This was written for obiwanlives4ever for her birthday...which was 2 months ago lmao. But better late than never, right?
Miles Edgeworth was, without a doubt, the most ill-mannered brother on the face of the earth!
Two...now three!...minutes late, and no phone call. No text. No regard for the fact that Franziska von Karma had already begrudgingly agreed to taking time out of her day so he could treat her to lunch. And all because it was the last birthday she'd be spending here in Los Angeles for quite some time, due to the permanent position she'd received with Interpol's European branch.
But she was the one standing under the awning of her condo's front porch, waiting! She did not have the leisure of waiting - she barely had time for a lunch break, as it was! Most of her belongings still needed to be neatly sorted and packed, in preparation for her move. The sooner, the better, as she wanted to devote a suitable amount of time to preparing her self for dinner with Adrian Andrews.
Then she saw it. She couldn't not see it, in all its hideous, clunking glory.
It was appalling, an old Volkswagen van, violently orange with wood paneling. Its horn was equally unconventional, sounding a loud AWOOGA! as it screeched to a halt in the spacious parking lot.
And from the driver's side spilled out its even more offensive owner.
Franziska had little reason to believe he was here on his own accord, as she at no point in time would have revealed to Larry Butz what building, street, or even neighborhood she resided in.
Someone had to have provided him with that information.
She strode up to him, ignoring his chipper "Heya!" and stared him straight in his vacant brown eyes. "Larry Butz, you will explain immediately and without digression where my brother is."
"Edgey? He's at his office! I dunno, he called me, something about how he can't leave the building for lunch 'cause the old lady filling in at the security desk is like, waiting for him to come down. Like, wait -waiting, know what I'm saying?" Larry waggled his eyebrows, as if that disclosed anything other than an absence of the verbal skills to articulate his point.
"Get on with it!"
"I told him I'd come down there and beat her up! But he said no, that all I needed to do was get you and take you out to lunch, just like he was gonna!"
"...Absurd," she muttered under her breath. And yet, in Franziska's lifelong experience with that fool Miles Edgeworth, totally believable, as when it came to handling attention from women, he was naught but foolishly foolhardy.
"Aw, but he's said he's sorry! He didn't want to skip out on you, but he said you'd understand."
Sorry? Understand? And his way of apologizing was sending an imbecile like Larry Butz in his stead? She did not understand! Franziska had half a mind to march down to the Prosecutor's Office herself and lash him into oblivion.
Then again, who else would take his place? That helpless Phoenix Wright, who could scarcely maneuver a bicycle, let alone drive? Certainly not the scruffy detective, who could not afford to take time off to accompany her or anyone else anywhere during the work day.
Nevertheless, it was still unacceptable.
"He is in a bed of his own foolish making! Now, if you'll excuse me, I can think of a thousand things I'd rather be doing than speaking with you." She turned on her heel and started back to the door.
"I'll pay!" Larry blurted out, and Franziska whirled to face him, the skepticism written all over her face prompting him to withdraw his wallet from his jacket. He opened it to reveal an impressive (by Larry Butz standards) amount of bills. "See! Look at all my tips from facepainting at the county fair!"
She paused momentarily, perplexed by his determination, which did not seem driven by his once-foolish attempts to romance her. In fact, ever since her relationship with Adrian Andrews had become knowledge so common that even Larry Butz could obtain it, he had been something bordering on tolerable.
That did not mean she owed him her company. However, she was feeling charitable (and admittedly, hungry) enough to at least give him the opportunity of changing her mind, lest he throw a temper tantrum if she didn't.
"Larry Butz, you have one chance to convince me why on earth I should voluntarily join you for a meal, and in a public setting no less."
He did not need near as much time to think up an answer as Franziska would have assumed.
"Well...c'mon Franzy, it's your birthday! You can't just stay holed up in your apartment all day. That's like...that's totally what Edgey would do on his birthday! I mean, that's exactly what he did this past year, but in his office; he wouldn't even come down to the lobby so I could give him the special birthday cupcake I bought him." Larry's voice carried undisguised disappointment, his weak frown much like the one Franziska, as a von Karma, never allowed the world to see on her own visage. "I can't believe you want to be as lame as him!"
Franziska was stunned; even she herself could not have provided a more perfect answer. Although she would not accept a random cupcake from anyone either, most of all Larry Butz, she could spare the length of a meal to prove that she would most certainly not be in any other way like Miles Edgeworth, especially with his egregious actions on today, of all days.
"Do not make me regret this decision, Larry Butz."
Franziska regretted her decision.
Larry Butz was beside her, insipidly singing along to the pop tune crackling from his radio. A few songs ago, he'd done the same, proclaiming the scratchy-throated rock number was "his jam", and Franziska had swiftly shut the radio off.
However, that led to him pursuing conversation, asking if she and Adrian had anything – pause, more obscenely overdramatic eyebrow waggling – "special" plans tonight.
Franziska promptly switched the radio back on, and Larry was struck with the childish need to, again, show off his hellaciously awful tenor – which paled in pitch to the cry Franziska let out as he missed the turn off to El Dorado Boulevard.
"That was our exit!"
"'It's tearin' up my heart' - Exit? Huh, whadd'you mean? - 'but when we are apart I feel it toooooo!'"
Franziska never ached so badly for her whip, which was currently in Adrian's possession. "To the Glockenspiel, you fool!" Miles Edgeworth had assured her the newest German restaurant in Los Angeles served cuisine on par with anything she could find in Europe.
It was the only reason she had accepted Miles's invitation to begin with; her time was precious, and not worth wasting on anything other than a meal of the highest quality.
"The Crockawheel? What? Edgey never said anything about where to take you. He just said 'out to lunch'!"
"I do not believe you! Even Miles Edgeworth would not fail to -"
"Hey, I got this covered!" If Franziska didn't know any better, she would say Larry Butz was mildly perturbed with her lack of faith in him. "I gotta drop something off for my girl, Lordelle. She works at Blenny's, so we can swing by there and kill two birds with one stone – 'and no matter what I do I feel the paai-aain!-'"
Franziska wished sorely that instead, she could kill one Butz with several lashes.
Having never eaten there, all Franziska knew about the Blenny's franchise was that it was the quintessential American diner, coated from roof to cheap-tiled floor with a layer of grease. That is, it was exactly the sort of fare someone as lowbrow as Larry Butz would not only eat, but make a habit of thoroughly enjoying.
Franziska exhaled in contentment at finally being able to exit the van and loosen her legs. She took one step towards the diner when she was pulled back by the commotion behind her.
Larry Butz was swearing and grumbling loudly to himself, presumably from the back of his van.
With both hands, Franziska yanked mightily on the already-ajar back door of the van, throwing it open to find Larry not in the backseat, exactly, but on the floor. There was no backseat; it'd been removed, forming a long storage space combined with the trunk. That space was crammed with a myriad of art supplies, and it was a small wonder Larry had been able to insert himself amid it in the first place.
"What are you doing?!" Besides the obvious, of being an utter nuisance.
He grunted, twisting from lying down to sitting up on his knees. "Looking for the drawing I need to give Lordelle! It's on a tablet, about this big!" Larry mimed with his hands to show the approximate size of a VHS tape.
Awkwardly, she climbed in over what looked to be a broken easel. The sooner they found his drawings, the sooner this ill-fated lunch could be over and done with.
Sitting cross-legged on one side of the van, Franziska set to work, efficiently sorting through the unlabeled boxes of supplies and piles of notebooks and tablets that must have taken months to accumulate.
Shockingly, the space was clean for how cluttered it was. There were no foul odors or food detritus or empty soda cans strewn about, as one would expect from a man who bragged once about the amount of things he'd eaten off the ground and not gotten deathly sick from.
"Why is it so imperative that you give this drawing to this Lordelle girl today?" Franziska huffed as a plastic container was unlidded and immediately shut, when she saw only dozens of colored pencils.
"Eh, well, she just got signed to this indie record label, and she thinks I should design the album cover. She's meeting with her manager tomorrow, so... isn't that awesome?" He grinned a foolishly foolish grin, the kind displayed only by the fools foolishly feckless enough to rely on starry-eyed dreams. "I could hit it big too, with her! We'd be a power couple, like you and Adrian or-"
"Quiet!" A sudden rush of heat flared across Franziska's cheeks. As unwelcome as it was to hear Larry Butz make suggestive remarks about her and Adrian, him casually acknowledging the perfection of their year-long courtship was just as unsettling.
Maybe it was because, sometimes, she found it hard to fathom, herself. She prided herself on her cool logic and crafty foresight, yet she could never have predicted the happiness she'd found with Adrian, the sort that overemotional sops (for instance, Larry Butz) muse on when lost in foolish daydreams.
That love, once so needless, had become unbearable to part from and now she would be doing so, for the sake of her career. And instead of spending her ever-dwindling hours with the woman she loved, she was stuck with this fruitcake.
She ordered Larry to return to the search, and did the same, taking great deliberation not to let her actions match her flustered insides. But she misjudged the weight of the next cardboard box she grabbed; it was damp, presumably from rainwater leaking through the roof of this ramshackle van, and when Franziska tried to pull it closer, it split open entirely along the corner.
A wave of manila folders fanned out all around her, many of them stuffed with drawings
And of course, that was when Larry exclaimed "Hey, found it!" He held up a tablet as proof, but his victorious smile quickly faded when he saw Franziska framed by so many folders. It was not a stretch of her imagination to guess that the drawings inside were in some way inappropriate to be shared, but that Larry Butz immediately tossed his tablet aside and dove out to gather all the folders up in a scrabbling flurry was most peculiar.
"You dolt!" Franziska scrunched away as Larry's hand accidentally hit her knee. "For goodness sake, I can help-"
"No, no, I got it Franzy, I got it! You go on into Blenny's, I'll catch up!"
She swiped up one of the thinner folders. "Obviously you don't 'got it', if you-" Her words died on her lips when she read what was scribbled across the front in chicken-scratch handwriting:
~Franziska's Whippity-Whip-Trip – epilogue~
She let the folder fall open, and her mouth followed.
The confines of the van dimmed the sun's light, but Franziska could make out the cartoonish female with the same striking silver-blue hair as her own (though longer), in an outfit of the same rich black as her courtroom attire (though contrasting with purple, not white). The woman in the drawing was posed with both arms raised about her head, a whip taut between her hands as her eyes exhibited a glare both fearsome and fearless.
"Uh...that's an old project." Larry babbled, and for someone who often showed so little shame, it was the only way Franziska could describe his demeanor now. "Very old, discontinued project. And like, it's not good to look at artist's unfinished drawings, it's um...disrespectful to their craft and um..."
He suddenly lunged toward Franziska, trying to grab the folder, but she turned away her upper body, pressing the folder to her chest. "Fool! Where are you going to put them? You've no longer anywhere to store them." she nodded at the broken storage box. "So I shall hold on to this...and the other ones, if you please, until you find somewhere more suitable than the back of this decrepit old van!"
Larry set the folders down in a crookedly aligned stack. "Oh, I dunno, Franzy. If you're talking about a storage locker, those things cost money. But if you really like them, then-"
"Larry Butz! It is my birthday, and as such, you've no right to argue with me over such a trifling issue, especially when you've done nothing remotely agreeable as of yet today." She was in the midst of trying to decrease her number of belongings, yet this offer to Larry was the only sensible option there was – she knew quality when she saw it, and she would not allow Larry Butz to let these drawings waste away much like every other aspiration in his foolish existence.
They wouldn't completely erase the sadness Adrian would feel at the distance between them, but they'd at least ease it somewhat, and entertain her.
"Hey, wait, I wasn't arguing! I was saying-"
Franziska slapped the folder atop the stack Larry had made with an emphatic thwack! "You will say nothing, and you will pick up that tablet -" she pointed to what had been the reason for this whole expedition "- and you will treat me to lunch at Blenny's."
What little appetite Franziska had remaining after the ride to Blenny's evaporated entirely as she sat in one of its peeling vinyl booths, observing Lordelle feeding Larry a plate of what looked like lukewarm French fries, leftover from another customer.
"Hey Lordelle, baby?" Larry chomped off a piece of fry, speaking as he chewed it obnoxiously. "Do they still do the free Slam Dunk meal for birthdays?"
"Oh, happy birthday, Larry! You wanna celebrate later?" She batted her overmade-up eyes at him, and giggled before shoving another fry towards his face.
Franziska tried to imagine Adrian Andrews lavishing this much affection on her tonight. It was presposterous, and vulgar and ...and not entirely unwelcome. Of course, it would be far less...crass than this, but the general idea of it...her skin warmed to think of Adrian as close to her as Lordelle was to Larry.
Larry nodded across the table to her. "Nah babe, it's not my birthday! It's Franzy's!"
"Oh...um. Yes. It is." It would be foolish to lie, as Larry Butz would continue to persist, and the last thing she wanted was him to utter any more words than he already unnecessarily did.
Lordelle slowly cast her gaze towards Franziska, with a suspisciousness Franziska didn't care for. She unlatched herself from Larry, and readied a pen and notepad. "Yeah, we do the free Slam Dunk meal. You can pick up to four things. What'd ya like?" She tapped sharply at the plastic menu, which Franziska did not even have open to the breakfast section.
"I don't care one bit. Larry, you may decide on whatever you'd like for this 'Slam Dunk' meal."
"Aw, seriously?" He grinned stupidly up at Lordelle. "Well then, I'll have my usual, babe."
Lordelle scribbled something on her notepad before regarding Franziska through narrowed eyes. "You sure you don't want anything...'Franzy'?"
"Fine, I'll take a glass of soda water." Perhaps it would ease the ever-spinning sensation that had been present in her stomach since entering this foul establishment.
Ten minutes later, Lordelle returned with a glass of soda water and a platter layered with hotcakes, french toast, bacon and miniature pancake balls called "puppies". How healthy it was to ingest so much bread in one sitting, Franziska wasn't sure but then again, this wasn't the sort of place one ate at when concerned about their well-being.
Just as Lordelle was about to walk away, Franziska stopped her. "Miss Lordelle, may I request a few more moments of your time – as apparently you have plenty to spare."
"I guess. What's up?"
Franziska ignored Lordelle's lack of professionalism. "I need to address the reason we are currently dining in this atrocious excuse of a restaurant. Larry wished to give you his...er...Larry!" She reached out to snap her fingers in front of his food-stuffed face.
"Nnunfh?" Larry looked up from his plate, a dribble of syrup running down his chin. "Oh! Yeah, here ya go, babe. Whaddya think?" He handed her the sketchpad that had been in the booth beside him.
Lordelle studied the first drawing for a few seconds, as she did with the second one. But then she flipped through the drawings faster and faster, as if she were searching for something in particular, and far less interested in what Larry had drawn. Finally – it couldn't have been longer than a full minute – she passed it back to Larry.
"Larry, baby, none of them feature me! They're all just designs and random women, not me. I thought you were going to draw me looking all..." Lordelle motioned with her hands to vaguely outline her silhouette.
"Oh um, well yeah, but I just listened to your CD and drew what was on my mind as I listened to it. Free-drawing. I figured if you wanted to look all sexified, you'd just do a photoshoot or somethin', right?"
Franziska could not imagine what manufactured caterwauling Larry Butz had exposed himself to for...well, judging by the number of drawings, likely close to an hour. It was senseless for this Lordelle to give so little effort in looking them over. This was her birthday and it had been wasted on this journey, all so Lordelle could take advantage of Larry Butz's foolish dedication to her?
She thought not.
"Ms. Lordelle, it sounds to me that perhaps you are uncomfortable with sharing your venture to prospective stardom with another person. I would advise you not to request help of those...gullible enough to provide it, if you are not ready to reciprocate."
Lordelle turned to glare pointedly at Franziska, not taking her eyes off her as she tore the check from her notepad and slapped it onto the table, hard enough to rattle the cheap silverware. "Here's the check. Just bring it up to the front with a legal ID proving its your birthday and you got your free meal." She walked away before either of them could say another word.
It did not take one with her observational skills to see that Larry was disheartened by Lordelle's swift dismissal of his artwork. Franziska nearly felt bad for him. Putting all one's hard work into a project only to not be given any sort of recognition or respect was not a pleasant experience.
After a minute or two, Larry asked, "Isn't this better than some hoity-toity German place?"
Although she knew Larry was just trying to fill the silent void that had been created, Franziska did wonder..."Have you ever even tried German food?"
"Oh yeah, I love wurstschnitzels and pfefferkorns and all kinds of things! Have you ever had a pancake puppy?" He extended one of the pancake balls across to her, and after a flicking glance to ensure his fingers were sanitary, she took it from him.
It wasn't half bad, a decent mixture of sweet and doughy. She would certainly never go out of her way to eat these, but they were a nice indulgence, she supposed.
"You can have the rest." He turned the oval plate so the pancake puppies were within her reach. "Lordelle's kind of overloaded me on these lil' guys the past few weeks."
Franziska selected another, and for a few minutes, more silence reigned between the two of them, until Larry finished off his French toast. "So when d'you leave for Interpol?" As if Interpol were a destination in and of itself.
"In less than two weeks' time." Franziska idly dipped the last pancake puppy into the tiny bowl of strawberry syrup it'd been served with. "But I do not believe I'll have the opportunity to return to America until the holidays, at the very soonest."
"Oh, that sucks." Larry gnawed on a piece of bacon, and Franziska fought the urge to scold him about talking with his mouth full. "I mean, it's good for you! But for Edgey and Adrian...and m-...er, other people who know you, it's gotta suck."
"Yes, well..." She was used to spending long intervals of time without seeing those important to her; it was just another fact of her life, as much as being a prosecutor or a von Karma. It was difficult to envision it any other way, and as such, she couldn't sympathize to this thought of her absence 'sucking', as Larry had put it. "They are both very supportive of this venture."
"Whatever makes you happy, right?"
What made her happy did not concern others – it rarely concerned herself, but what choice did she have to believe that was the case? Wasn't it the same reason she had supported Adrian in returning to a role at Global Studios, but this time as an event manager and not a personal assistant? It was just as busy but required less one-on-one interaction than the occupation where her and Adrian had initially met – and as such, it made Adrian, and in turn, Franziska, very happy.
"You could put it that way, yes."
Seemingly satisfied, Larry went back to his meal and Franziska to her soda water. For a few brief moments, she had nearly forgotten she was conversing (quite naturally, too) with her primary source of irritation over the past couple years.
Until Larry eyed the strawberry sauce and poised a half-strip of bacon over it. "Hey, Franzy, think this'll taste good?"
Arching an eyebrow, Franziska nudged the bowl closer to Larry. "I think you will find out regardless of my opinion."
At the front cash register, Franziska handed over the check along with her Germany drivers' license. As Lordelle attempted to find the birthdate, Franziska cleared her throat and spoke up.
"Miss Lordelle, I would request that you look at Larry's sketches more closely than you did previously, before dismissing them. While you lack the attention to fine detail that I do, I do not think it requires such a skill to see that, objectively, they are above average when it comes to what passes for album cover artwork."
Lordelle turned up her pert little nose, looking down at Franziska as if she were a misbehaving child. "Why are you so concerned with Larry?"
"I am no such thing! I just do not wish to endure his incessant whining should you insist on rejecting his artwork!"
"Coulda fooled me. What, are you like an ex-girlfriend or something?" She thrust Franziska's license back at her.
"No way, babe. Nothing at all like that! Me and Franzy are two peas in a pod; we only go for the most sizzling of ladies." Larry reached across the counter to press a finger onto Lordelle's upper arm, and made a hissing noise as if she were burning him.
Franziska's soda water nearly came back up, and she spluttered to find the words to demand that Larry Butz kindly not reveal aspects of her personal life so candidly.
Lordelle cocked an eyebrow questioningly, evidently (though wisely) not taking her boyfriend at his word.
Franziska met her with a razor-sharp glare. "I have known Larry Butz for far too long, and any woman foolish enough to spend one foolish minute in the presence of this foolish fool would be foolishly foolish to allow another man to call on her as long as she lived."
"Hmph, sounds like sour grapes to me." Lordelle's pierced lip drew up in a sneer. "Larry mentions you all the time, you know?"
"That is his problem, and quite frankly -"
"Sounds like you're the one with the..." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully and gave Franziska a scathing once-over."... problem."
"Excuse me?" Franziska pressed herself against the counter, as close to Lordelle as possible. Even with the waitress being a good half-foot taller than her, she had no reservations about snapping her foolish little neck.
"Hey! Cut it out!" Larry threw out his arm to keep them separate, and it took Franziska a moment to realize he was not ordering her, but Lordelle. "Who cares if she's into women? That just means she likes what I like! And there ain't nothin' wrong with that."
Franziska would have never phrased it in such a manner, and didn't have time to explain to Larry Butz just how she would have, as he tried to snag her arm. "C'mon Franzy, let's get outta here!"
"You are causing a scene!" She dodged him, not because she didn't wish to leave but just because she did not want to be associated with this trouble-magnet.
"Fine with me! I'm gonna give this place zero stars on Yalp!" Larry shouted at Lordelle, before so forcefully grabbing a handful of starlight mints from the tray at the register that the entire thing clattered over, spilling candies all over the floor.
He then dragged a bewildered Franziska by the arm out into parking lot, letting go of her once they reached his van.
"Franzy, look, look at all these mints!" He lifted the corner of his jacket, where the pocket was bulging with mints.
"Who cares about mints!? That was incredibly foolish of you!" She threw a glance over her shoulder, certain that management or someone from the restaurant would be following them. "They could have easily called the police and had you arrested for public disturbance."
"Meh, so what, Edgey would never let me flounder in there too long. He'd bail me out pronto. Besides, it's not like we actually owed anything."
"That is besides the point!" Having past interactions with Larry Butz to base her judgment upon, Franziska did not believe he understood the consequences of his actions. "And, you do realize that you've likely ended the relationship between you and this Lordelle, don't you? All because you...you..."
"Who cares? She didn't even appreciate my artwork, and smack-talked my friends. No way is she the one for me! And anyway, there's these Siamese twins I've been gettin' to know at the county fair. They're conjoined at the hip! You know what that means, they have twice the -"
"Larry Butz, I implore you to not finish that sentence. But I will also say that...I do not always have the patience to deal with such foolish fools who foolishly spout such foolish nonsense. And in this case, your disruption was not as..." She hesitated as her gaze moved about the lot. She was inexperienced with broaching such sensitive topics – at least pertaining to herself.
"Are you trying to say you found it pretty sexy and enticing to see me fired up like that?"
"No! Absolutely not!" If she didn't know any better, she would say that Larry Butz was intentionally trying to provoke her. He wouldn't being spewing such rubbish after what he'd said but a few minutes ago, would he? That would be illogical, even for someone like him. "What I'm saying is...Thank you. Not everyone is willing to be so... so vehement in defense of...their opinions."
"It's no problem."
"Well, of all the problems you have, Larry Butz, I am glad that...that is not one of them."
"Heehee, aw, Franzy. Seriously, it's no big deal." He opened the back of his van to quite literally toss the notepad back in. There was thudding and banging of objects, boxes, tumbling about. No wonder he could never find anything.
"But do not think for a minute that your display back there has excused you from following through on what you promised. I've still yet to eat lunch, one that you claimed you would pay for."
"Hm, well there's this pretty nice coffee shop sorta place over there." Larry jerked a thumb behind him, where across the highway sat a strip mall and movie theater. "Like, Lordelle told me Blenny's is trying to spy on them and figure out just why everyone raves about their sandwiches. Y'know, sandwich wars, it's pretty intense!"
"Fascinating," she deadpanned, wanting no longer to hear of Lordelle. "What's it called?"
"Moondrop Café, I think? You wanna go?"
"I would yes, but alone, Larry Butz. I have dined with you once today, and that is enough. I'm sure you will have no issue occupying yourself somehow for a half-hour."
"Okay, okay. That's fine, actually. I have to buy a few things anyway." Larry was suddenly nervous, as if Miles Edgeworth or Franziska herself were asking him to give testimony. "Y'know...things...for...stuff, and reasons..."
"I do not care what you fritter your money away on nor why, so long as you can provide me with twenty dollars for lunch." She held out a hand expectantly, and Larry dug out his wallet, counting out a five and fifteen ones. "Now, to make this easy on you, kindly meet me at this Moondrop Café in a half-hour."
"You got it, birthday girl."
Franziska turned away and headed in the direction of the cafe before Larry could see the faint smile his words had tugged up.
The Moondrop Café was, in fact, "pretty nice". It was clean, the service was friendly and efficient, and the ingredients in Franziska's club sandwich were crisp and fresh, not highly questionable like everything at Blenny's.
Whilst in the middle of her lunch, a text from Adrian popped up on her phone. Just a simple hello, and happy birthday, but it made Franziska's heart flutter all the same. She was tempted to reply with a lengthy explanation of just how off-course her day had been thus far, but truth be told, it was hardly any less unpredictable or tumultuous than the cases she'd assisted Interpol with in the several months she'd worked with them.
She wondered if perhaps adding this day – and all her other past encounters with Larry Butz – would have been more beneficial to her resumé than her lineage or having earned her prosecutor's badge so young. That she astounded even herself at surviving those instances spoke volumes.
Instead, she shot off a short response to Adrian thanking her, and that she was looking forward to this evening. It was these almost mindlessly easy gestures that she would miss. She would rarely have her personal phone on her when at Interpol, nor was she to give her work mobile number out to non-Interpol persons. There would be times contact with Adrian, or anyone else, would be limited.
As much as she was sure she was prepared as well as only Franziska von Karma could be, there was a niggling part of her that knew she wasn't, not entirely. It was frightening and exciting all at once – something she would conquer, as she had every other insecurity and fear she had faced. She expected no less of herself.
A sharp rap on the front window of café startled Franziska out of her ruminations.
There was Larry Butz – on time, amazingly – waving at her from outside, the grin on his face conveying he was up to something.
Franziska quickly disposed of what trash she had, then swept up her purse and hurried outside. "Now what?"
"Heh. Guess what, Franzy? Guess, c'mon. Guess."
"I can not begin to guess when it comes to you, Larry Butz. Simply tell me."
"Well, I just really wanted to make it up to you, for putting you through all that with Lordelle. So I um...bought tickets for us to go see a movie and-"
"You what?!" Blast herself for leaving Larry Butz unattended, even for a half hour.
"Hey, I've been dying to see that Munions movie. Those little dudes really speak to me! We just missed the 3D show, but the regular one starts in twenty minutes-ish, and -"
"No," Franziska interrupted tersely.
"What's wrong with Munions?!"
Besides the obvious, that the demographic it catered to was those actually in grade school, not just mentally and emotionally, like Larry Butz. "I um...I've...seen it already," she muttered.
"You've seen the Munions movie before me? Whoa, this is like some Bizarro World!"
"Only because Adrian had free tickets to it! We went to a pre-screening; she was the lead event manager for a post-production party for a different movie at the same studio, and it was part of the thank-you package she received."
"Oh damn, that's amazing. She did all that to get Munions tickets? Dude, no wonder you love her, what a dedicated woman!"
"No, you moron, she-...nevermind!" Really, if one thing would shut Larry Butz up for any span of time, it would be an animated movie featuring aliens of the same intelligence level. And though his gesture was ill-planned, his interest in both redeeming himself and seeing the movie seemed honest, and not disingenuous in nature. "Now, so long as you don't have any current girlfriends or attempt to procure a new one at the Cineplex, I suppose it wouldn't be any worse than having to watch those Steel Samurai movies Miles Edgeworth has forced upon me. "
"So you liked it, huh? Enough to wanna see it again?"
"I did not say that!" Franziska huffed and crossed her arms, her recollections more that of the night in general, out with Adrian, and the way she would try and hide a giggle at the admittedly juvenile humor in the movie. "It was merely...not as despicably tasteless as I had expected going into it. In fact, the part about halfway through when, what's-its-name...Calvin? When he tells -"
"A-bah-bah!" Larry waved both hands at Franziska to halt her. "Franzy, no spoilers!"
To Franziska's surprise and Larry Butz's credit, he did not attempt to get close to her or any other women during the movie. Of course, this could have all been due to him being so engrossed in the childish film that the prospect of romance didn't enter his puny mind.
As they left the theater, Franziska checked her phone, desperate for a text from Adrian to counter the ninety minutes of tittering yellow creatures and a tittering popcorn-gobbling Larry. Disappointingly, there was nothing. It wasn't outright strange, only a bit uncharacteristic for how schedule-oriented Adrian was. Normally if her and Adrian got together in the evening hours, one of them would text the other when they departed work, or at least update on when they expected to. Nothing of the like, in this case, and it was nearing five PM.
She was so preoccupied by her phone that she did not pay attention when opening the passenger side door of Larry's van, and was smacked lightly in the face by a bobbing bouquet of balloons.
"Happy birthday!" came Larry's voice from the driver's side.
"What on-! Get...! Get these...!" She swatted at them, fighting the tangle of balloon strings and managing to direct them behind the seat, where they floated into Larry's messy den of art supplies.
"Hey, don't you like balloons? I thought everyone was cool with balloons for their birthday."
"Not a dozen of them in my face, no."
"Aw, well, you'll have to take a look at them when you have the chance, I think you'll actually like them. I picked them up when you were at lunch. And a couple other things. More stencils, see!" He reached over and popped open the glove compartment, where a stack of thin plastic stencils sat amongst tons of receipts and other random oddities. Picking the top one, he held it up to show Franziska. "Look, this one's birthday-themed. Want me to test it on you?"
Franziska pushed his hand away from the glove compartment. "Larry Butz, what is wrong with you?!"
"Um, can you...be more specific?"
"What I mean is, why in the world are you so obsessed with my birthday?"
"I wouldn't say 'obsessed'. I just...well, don't people usually like it when their friends go all-out for their birthday? Especially big ones, like this! It's your two-one, that means legally you can go get crunked up now!"
"I can...?" Somehow, enough time around Larry left Franziska able to translate what he'd just said. "Wrong as usual, Larry Butz. That is next year; today is my twentieth birthday. Also, I have been able to legally drink in Europe for two full years already, so it means nothing to me, when I am able to do so in America."
"Oh, um, my bad then. But seriously, Franzy... " Larry showed her the stencil he'd taken just a minute ago. "Could I draw a little somethin'-somethin' on your face? Please? I mean, you did say my art was above-average...and...I've felt so down about it today, ever since Lordelle totally stomped all over those drawings I made for her..."
The sigh he ended his lamenting with was even more grating on her ears than the Munionese he had attempted to imitate while exiting the theater. "If it will make you cease your pathetic whining, then I suppose, so long as it is not obscene."
"Nah Franzy, I don't draw scenes, only objects and like, masks."
While Larry dug out his paint supplies, Franziska situated herself at the edge of the open backseat. Her legs dangled out, toes just barely reaching the pavement.
"I think I know the perfect one...but don't look, okay!"
How on earth she was supposed to look at her own cheek, she had no idea, but she closed her eyes nonetheless.
She flinched at the cool, viscous paint touching her cheek, not used to this sort of proximity, even from inanimate objects.
"Hey! Hold still! Artist at work here!"
Franziska took a deep, steadying breath, and did her best to let her mind completely empty as Larry continued his painting. The only thoughts that insisted on creeping up were just how she would be able to express to Miles Edgeworth how downright inconsiderate he was, and how he could begin to make it up to her.
"Alright, done!" Larry lowered his brush after what felt like much too soon for him to have finished anything. "One badass Munion, complete!"
"Pardon?!"
"Kidding!" Larry backed away, likely expecting a deserving whiplash. "Totally kidding, Franzy. It's not a Munion. It's...well, take a look!"
Franziska stood and moved to the sideview mirror, crouching a bit so she could view her cheek. She was met with a small silver and purple crown, much like one would see on the most regal of queens. While nothing deserving of being in a museum, it was rendered to appear as if the jewels were actually shining. She suspected Larry had put more work into this than he typically did with his younger customers at the fair.
"This is very...well done, Larry Butz."
"Aw, it's nothing! I can do whole faces up like skulls, or the Copper Samurai." He stowed away his supplies into the back without, again, giving any notice as to where he was putting them. "Say, Franzy, why don't you come visit my booth at the fair next weekend, before you leave. I could paint you up to look like the Dastardly Diplomat, he's the vengeful cousin of the Evil-"
"I most certainly will not."
"Not even after all the fun we've had today?"
"'Fun'?!" She hauled herself into the front passenger's side as Larry got back into the driver's seat. "That is the word you would use to describe this...this catastrophe of a day?"
"Oh, well I dunno, you seemed to be kind of enjoying yourself sometimes. Like I really don't think Edgey could have made you smile any more, that's for sure!"
Had she really smiled that much? Perhaps they had been fleeting moments when her thoughts had drifted to Adrian, but she would not have guessed those moments had changed her countenance enough that Larry Butz would have taken notice. Then again...
"I don't know if...'fun' is the correct word, but it was certainly...different than any other day I've experienced in some time. I would call this birthday memorable, if anything."
"Oh yeah? If you think this afternoon's been memorable, you ain't seen nothin' yet."
"Hm?"
"Nothin'. But...I mean, what do you even normally do for your birthday, if this isn't...um, your thing?"
"...I can't recall." She avoided looking at Larry, not ashamed, just not wishing to see his reaction. "I...I have not ever done anything particularly special for my birthday."
"Nothing at all?! That's crazy!"
"It is not in the least. While I have been given a few memorable gifts throughout my life for my birthday, my father did not approve of such foolish activities taking precedent over other tasks that need to be taken care of, simply because of it being one's birthday. This is...this is not how a von Karma would spend their birthday, being led around on such...inane adventures with...someone such as yourself."
"Well, who cares about him? He was a grouch anyway." That's right; Larry had, for lack of a better term, "met" her father, although Franziska had not been present to witness it. "Whatever you do for your birthday, it's still what a von Karma would do. 'Cuz that's what you are and always will be! Just like even though I sign my paintings under Laurice Deauxnim, I'll always be a Butz! "
"Yes. Yes you will." Really, she wasn't terribly settled by Larry's words. He had no concept of what a von Karma would and wouldn't, should and shouldn't do or be.
Then again, while he may not have actually had a point, he was halfway there. Though for so long she had molded herself after Papa, there were still traits and actions, and thoughts, that were innately hers and hers alone – more had developed over the past couple years, since opposing Phoenix Wright and becoming involved with Interpol...and with Adrian Andrews. Did it make her any less von Karma, for her path to diverge from the one Papa had mapped for her?
That was what she was trying to figure out. So far, she had yet to see evidence that it did; in fact, it had only led her to what she believed was a more fulfilling – more perfect - life than what had been originally planned, and what could be more von Karma than that?
Is what she told herself every day. Every day, as the doubt and fear, always in Papa's voice, did its best to capture her away from the new trail she had blazed for herself.
"Hey." A tap on her shoulder startled Franziska, and she dropped her hand away from her cheek; she hadn't even realized it was there – nor that her eyes were damp at the edges. "Don't cry, Franzy, you'll make the paint run."
"I would do no such foolish thing."
"Nah, of course not. Wanna go home?"
"Please."
"Hey, don't gotta ask me twice when a lady asks to go home. Let's roll!" Upon starting his van, the radio came blaring on in the midst of a pop song, and Larry gasped happily. "Ohh...ah, I love this song! 'Everyboddyyyy, yeahhhh! Rock your boddddyyy, yeah!' - Hey, Franzy, this song is my jam! It's -"
"Larry Butz, not every song can be your 'jam'!"
But Larry sang over her.. "'...wanna party, lemme hear you yell!'"
So Franziska did.
"I do not require any more assistance from you, Larry Butz." Franziska gathered her purse and the folder of Whippity Whip-Trip sketches – and, reluctantly, the balloons Larry had purchased. "Now take yourself and this wretched vehicle of yours and get out of my sight."
"Hey, no, wait up!" Larry followed at her heels, carrying a stocky paper bag. "Here, I actually did buy you something. 'Sides those balloons."
"This...this is for me?" She couldn't very well take it, her hands full already.
"Well, remember how I thought it was your twenty-first birthday? I was looking for something so you and Adrian could get turnt- "
"I believe the term you used was 'crunked'."
"-Well yeah, it's the same thing! So here!" He removed a bottle of Jagermeister from the bag. "...And it's German too, see? Jager-meester! They had something else called, um, 'Goldschlongger' or whatever but between the two, the dude at the store said this one has more bite, so I thought it'd be perfect for you."
After a second of silence, to get over the fact that Larry had actually bought something for her that was not entirely frivolous..."Larry Butz, you bought alcohol for a minor?"
"Unknowingly! Ahh, you're not gonna tell Edgey, are you?!"
"I am going to tell Miles Edgeworth a lot of things about today, but...this will not be one of them." Franziska fumbled with her belongings, trying to make room that she could take the Jagermeister from Larry.
"Heh, relax, it's your birthday! You shouldn't have to do any heavy lifting today. I'll carry it in for you."
Was he serious? Relax, after the whirlwind of a day he'd just put her through? "Fine, but to the door, and no further."
The second Franziska managed to unlock and open the door to her apartment, the lights flew on and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
"SURPRISE!"
Franziska screamed, and whirled around only to have her face plant squarely into the chest of Larry Butz. She screamed again and shoved away, dropping her things and stumbling around to be met with a room full of smiling, familiar faces.
Miles Edgeworth, and his scruffy detective; that Kay Faraday girl; and a nearly unrecognizable Phoenix Wright kneeling besides a young child Franziska had never seen before, but had heard quite a bit about from her little brother: Trucy Enigmar.
But where was...?
"Franziska..." Her brother was the first to approach her, and Franziska met him halfway, her chest still vibrating from her racing heart.
"Miles Edgeworth! You are the most insolent..." She drove her fist weakly against him, head dropping as her eyes prickled wet. "Most...disrespectful...!"
"This was all Miss Andrews's idea." Miles circled an arm around her and spared a meaningful glance at Franziska's girlfriend, who appeared from the kitchen area. "So please, save all your...gratitude for her."
Adrian's arms folded around Franziska, and drew her away from Miles. Franziska pressed her face into Adrian's shoulder, the soft cotton of her blouse, and whispered. "This is...spectacular..."
"It's the least I could do for you, Franziska." Franziska felt herself being squeezed tight. Securely. Adrian didn't want to let her go, nor did Franziska wish for her to.
However, she demanded answers, and extracted herself to round on Miles Edgeworth. "So you standing me up for lunch was..."
"All a guise, yes. We needed someone to get you out of the house for the entire afternoon, and Larry wrote himself into that role, as he was of...little help in any other stage of the planning process. Or execution. I apologize that you were subjected to him for so long, but no one other than myself had either the time nor means to do so."
Nor, did Franziska believe, anyone have the bravery – or in Larry's case, ignorance – to withstand what she was told was an overpowering personality. Other than Adrian, who allegedly was the mastermind behind all this.
"I swear to you I will treat you to either dinner or lunch at the Glockenspiel, Franziska. You should have more free time now, anyway." Miles waved his hand to indicate what Franziska had yet to properly notice: a number of cardboard boxes strewn about in pockets around her apartment, all sealed and labeled.
Her day with Larry was not just so everyone could set up the party, Adrian explained it to her as the others helped themselves to the catered meal and cake.
Right after Franziska had left, Adrian – the only other person with a key to her apartment - and Kay spent most of the afternoon packing up most of Franziska's possessions. What was left, Adrian was willing to let Franziska keep at her own apartment, and allow her stay there some nights until her departure. While Adrian's apartment was further from the Prosecutor's office, Franziska was willing to sacrifice the extra commute time for the company of such a remarkable partner.
In the end, Franziska was glad she hadn't more than the sandwich and pancake puppies, as Adrian had ordered a variety of entrees from a Russian restaurant that Phoenix Wright had grown to favor – enough for him to foot a portion of the bill; his present to her. She'd never been very partial to Russian food, but the Borscht Bowl's offerings were delicious enough to make her reconsider.
Trucy's gift was a short magic show, where her wooden assistant, Mr. Hat, made a quarter appear from behind Larry's ear. This was followed up by a number of card tricks that were quite impressive for a magician of any age, let alone Trucy's. (Larry was not as impressed, bent on begging Trucy to make a dollar, a twenty – anything larger than a quarter – appear instead.)
Kay Faraday gifted her a rather nice set of leather gloves, commenting on how deft one was still able to be while wearing them. Franziska thought them quite fashionable, and had no designs on utilizing them for the purposes Kay Faraday was hinting at, but thanked her all the same.
And Scruffy presented her with a (very worn, used) copy of a book all about the history of the K-9 unit. While Franziska herself would not be training a dog with Interpol, she had quite enjoyed what little interaction she'd had with them during her time in America.
As the night wound on, her friends and acquaintances said their goodbyes. Kay Faraday had to hurry out to catch the bus; she just started her first (real) job, and wanted to be up bright and early. The Scruffy Detective had been Phoenix Wright's ride, and they decided it was time to go when Trucy, already up well past her bedtime, slipped into a nap against the ottoman.
Finally, with just Miles Edgeworth and Larry Butz as the remaining guests, Franziska had the opportunity to pull Adrian aside, to the corner couch of her living room, and sit down with her.
"I know it's...my birthday, but I've something to give you." She handed Adrian the folder of Larry's drawings, which Adrian paged through as Franziska continued. "I thought...perhaps they would...that you would like them. At any rate, I believe they're of more use in your possession than wasting away in the back of Larry Butz's disgusting van."
"They're not quite as nice as real life, but..." Adrian leaned in and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to Franziska's lips. "They're still wonderful. I've something to give you too. Give back, actually. Just a second."
Franziska's view of a departing Adrian was preemptively cut off by just who she would expect to do so.
"Hey, Franzy." Larry plopped down on the couch next to her. "Whew, what a day, right?"
Franziska just glared, appalled by Larry's summation of their absurdity of an afternoon. "Why are you still here?"
"Did you know in America, on your birthday, you're supposed to get spanked however many years old you are?" He was not answering her question, but then, when did he truly ever? "Plus one for good luck."
"What?" Franziska scooted away from Larry. Even though she had half a mind he was implying this action involved her and Adrian, she was taking no chances.
"I don't think so." Adrian appeared back at the couch, Franziska's whip coiled in her hands. "I believe it's, the person whose birthday it is, gets to whip the person of their choice that many times. Plus one for good luck."
"Um..." Larry's deviousness fell away. "Couldn't we just...take shots of Jagermeester instead?"
"Nonsense, Larry Butz." Franziska rose to her feet and took the whip from Adrian. "I believe it is you who has stated that as the birthday girl, I am entitled to have fun today!"
"Y-Yeah, but..."
Adrian laughed lightly beside her. "Larry, what kind of man denies a woman her birthday wish?"
"B-But!"
Franziska lifted her whip high and stretched it taut, as she beamed a proud smile. "One!"
"Gyaannagghhh!"