The first decision about the judge was the easiest: no fellow prosecutors. "Who would risk telling the boss that he'd lost, ja?" Klavier said. "Especially when you take winning so very, very seriously."
Miles grimaced as he accepted his drink from the barista. (He'd ordered coffee, despite what casual acquaintances might assume. The coffeeshop next to their office used perfectly roasted beans, yet thought that a proper cup of tea could be made by dunking a bag in hot water.) Some reputations lasted far longer than was deserved. It had been years since he did absolutely anything for a victory. And if he still preferred to win, well, who enjoyed losing?
"I completely agree that we should disallow everyone I supervise," Miles said, though he privately suspected that many might be far less favorable toward him than Klavier expected. He was certain that the biggest sticking point in his appointment to Chief Prosecutor had been raised by Winston Payne and his jealousy over not being considered. Even with innocence proven, seven years had been a long time for the legal community to get used to the image of a disbarred, dishonored, and disheveled Phoenix Wright. Miles convincing him to retake the Bar had been vaguely scandalous. Miles studying with him had nothing 'vaguely' about it, and he'd had to prove that there was absolutely no way for even a High Prosecutor to gain access to that copy of the exam.
No, Miles had no problem with rejecting the people in their office. "We'll keep any supervisory pressure out of it. I want you to accept my win as a fair and just decision, after all," he said and sipped his macchiato.
Klavier smirked over the rim of his coffee. (Black, with ungodly amounts of sugar.) "You're very confident for someone who once tried to get your friend convicted of murder." His smile became positively angelic as Miles glowered.
"If we're lobbing accusations," Miles said coldly, "you have done far more to damage him."
"Fair enough, regrettably... but it's not my relationship with Mr. Wright that's under discussion, ja?" Klavier's eyes crinkled again as he sipped his coffee-flavored sugar.
Urgh. Gavin and Justice's relationship might be less epic, to use the most historic form of the word, but they also had fewer weak spots to prod. "Who else is on your list?" Miles asked, glad he hadn't gone for that biscotti. It was the end of a long day and he was looking forward to leaving the entire vicinity of his workplace once their bet was finalized. As soon as it was finalized.
"Lucinda with the curly hair, Monique with the beautiful eyes, and—"
"Who are these women?" Miles asked. Even without the third name, he was certain that they were all women.
Klavier turned a brilliant smile toward the baristas behind the counter. One, who actually blushed, had a vintage Gavinners pin among a dozen others on her apron. "Completely neutral parties," he said with a satisfied grin as he turned back to face Miles.
"You have a strange definition of 'neutral,'" Miles grumbled.
"You're not unattractive," Klavier said. "I might have that star quality, but there is no reason for you not to be popular with them as well, nein? Besides, a bit of attraction toward one party or the other shouldn't unduly weight their judgment. And I must admit, to the ladies you might have a bit of the..." He squinted, seeking the right term. "Sexy librarian look?"
He was clearly doing this on purpose to rattle Miles. Well, with the opening Klavier had just left, Miles could rattle him right back. "So: we've agreed that we cannot approach anyone who reports directly to me, and will allow for some level of personal feelings toward one or both involved parties so long as they can effectively analyze the evidence we present them."
"Ja! So we'll ask Lucinda," Klavier said.
"Incorrect."
"...Monique?"
Miles cleared his throat. "There's another consideration: to assess our efforts' effect on the targeted parties, the judge must have knowledge of their typical responses and moods." He let himself smile as broadly as any of Klavier's gloating grins. "We will ask Ema Skye."
Klavier wasn't grinning any more. "Ema?" he asked in disbelief. "I still hear her being teased about some old crush on you!" A crush which, despite his very best efforts, Klavier had never been able to duplicate toward him.
"A bit of attraction toward one party or the other shouldn't unduly weight her judgment. Right?" Mmm. Their coffee really was delicious. Miles reveled in his temporary victory for another beat, then set his mug down and studied Klavier. "Then perhaps we should take a different tactic and involve two judges: one who is likely to be favorable to me and one who is likely to be favorable to you."
"That sounds... possible," Klavier said, though he didn't offer any names. He clearly couldn't argue against the need to understand the targets and weigh evidence, and Miles doubted he'd arrived with suggestions who met all of those qualities. Not when he'd made decisions based on recent successful flirtations.
Fortunately, Miles was always prepared. "Would you accept a second judge who is not currently familiar with one of the parties, but is an expert with collecting evidence and could come quickly up to speed?"
"Perhaps."
"Excellent. My sister arrives for a month's visit in a few days. I'll let her know that she's been drafted."
Klavier wiped away the coffee he'd inelegantly spilled on his chin. "Your sister? You've collected Ema for your side and now you expect me to welcome Franziska von Karma? And besides, she's a prosecutor! She's already knocked out of consideration!"
"Who does not report to me," Miles said patiently, "which was the source of our problem there."
"Ja, and instead you have introduced new problems!"
With a pointed clearing of his throat, Miles asked, "Have you heard much about my sister, Prosecutor?"
"I... of course. Her family is famous in the history of German law practice. Your family is famous," he added, quiet and grumpy.
"And if you have truly familiarized herself with Franziska, what do you believe she would say if she heard that I was spending time on trying to curry the favor of a defense attorney?"
Klavier went very still and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. Miles let him think. When the truth hit, Klavier's eyebrows rose high. "Ahh. I see. Perhaps something like... 'Miles Edgeworth, you foolish fool, you will reap the foolish punishment you deserve for this foolhardy foolishness?'"
"Mmm. I believe you've actually read her case transcripts, and that was also a little disturbing."
Lost in thought for another beat, Klavier sat up abruptly and chuckled. "Point well taken. All right, then. The fräulein detective and fräulein prosecutor to judge our efforts."
I encourage you to refer to Franziska as a 'fräulein prosecutor' to her face, Gavin. "It's probably for the best if I approach Detective Skye."
"I'm sure I could convince her."
Miles shook his head. "I must insist. However, you're welcome to approach Franziska in my stead, if you feel that the initial discussion grants some benefit to the asker." I wouldn't mind being out of whipping distance when she hears what we expect her to do.
The sharp gaze he got in return reminded Miles that, despite how easy it was to think otherwise when the man annoyed him, Klavier was quite intelligent. He was abruptly not the flirtatious rock star plucking judges from the barista pool, but the prosecutor who'd identified a case connection even behind a wall of locked files. In a few short seconds Miles' words had been analyzed for hidden traps, reverse psychology, and whatever other trick he might be trying to pull. The process was nearly tangible in the space between them. "I believe I will," Klavier said slowly. "Her contact information, bitte?"
Miles sent her profile and Klavier nodded thoughtfully as he saw it pop up on his phone. "I'll also forward you her itinerary, so you'll know when to contact her," he added, typing. "As I said before, I want you to completely accept my victory. I don't intend to win through dirty tricks."
"First time for everything." Klavier flashed white teeth when Miles glared at him. "Can't take a joke, herr?"
"Not that one," he said tightly. Yes, he was very sick of some reputations. How many years had it been?
Klavier nodded and let it go. "Well, then. We appear to have two judges. They haven't agreed yet, but..."
"I have an appointment to meet Detective Skye shortly," Miles said, checking the time, "and Franziska will be able to catch up on what she's missed once she arrives."
Klavier didn't miss Miles' certainty that he would be meeting with Ema after their discussion, and gave a chiding look. "Then in a fortnight, we'll hear who's done a better job of showing affection for our favorite legal partner." Klavier looked close to laughter at Miles' reaction. "You wish you hadn't used those words, right?"
"Like you wouldn't believe," Miles drawled. He held up his coffee. "Two weeks."
"Two weeks," Klavier agreed, and lightly tapped his drink against Miles'. "It's begun. I have to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing you..."
"Yes?"
"...Being nice."
"Being nice has nothing to do with this, Gavin. Appreciation and respect are deeper, richer, and frankly more mature concepts. I intend to demonstrate that, not send the man a bouquet of flowers and a thank-you card."
"I would enjoy seeing Wright's face if you sent him a bouquet of flowers," Klavier said thoughtfully. "Let me know if you do go that way, after all. I'll want pictures."
Despite himself, Miles couldn't help but smile—very slightly—at the suggestion and the image it raised. All right, he could see how Klavier's champagne-like personality boosted the office's mood. "Only if you do the same. Be sure to limit the size of the arrangement, though. As I recall, your chosen partner is a little thing. I'd hate for you to send over something that he could get lost inside."
"We're trash-talking the defense attorneys, now?" Klavier smirked. "Should I start with his hair?"
"Which one?" Miles asked flatly, and Klavier laughed. Yes, for all that Miles was still bewildered by that little corkscrew hanging next to Klavier's skull, the prosecution's superior hair was an undeniable fact. "All right, I'm off to talk to Detective Skye. Two weeks," he reminded Klavier, who nodded.
"I would put money," Klavier said slowly, "on knowing what you're giving to Wright for your first move."
"Oh?" Miles said, less confident than he wanted to sound. Was that prediction good? Bad? The simple fact that Klavier thought he could predict his actions was slightly unsettling, because Klavier was far more practiced with demonstrative behavior. Whatever he thought, he might very well be right. "And what would that be?"
"I'm not handing over any suggestions," Klavier said, then actually winked. "See you tomorrow, boss."
Miles left with a frown. Yes, he had identified a perfect gift already. Could Klavier truly have jumped one step ahead of him? All the way to the police precinct, he looked at his planned move from every angle.
As he'd collected Phoenix's books to reshelve them, it had come to mind: a new computer for the Agency, along with a year's subscription to Westlaw or LexisNexis. Phoenix was a truly gifted attorney, and him coming into the courtroom with greater access to information would be of benefit to everyone. So Phoenix couldn't bring himself to flip between dozens of law tomes, fine; Miles would circumvent that little problem and let Phoenix's talent flourish inside searchable electronic databases that did the cross-referencing for him.
It was perfect. It demonstrated Miles' acknowledgement of his skills, as well as the trust that he placed in Phoenix to always find the truth in the courtroom. It was, in short, exactly the sort of present that one would give in order to demonstrate a mature appreciation toward another professional. Even the timing after his recent reinstatement couldn't be more apt.
Right?
Ugh, he never lacked confidence when the law was under discussion. Why, now, was he suddenly second-guessing himself? Was it the cost? A year's subscription to one of those services would be expensive, and Phoenix might think it was too much. Maybe he'd think it was patronizing, like after all of those years of struggling he still couldn't pay his own bills. And Klavier had mocked the idea of just throwing money at this contest. But what if Miles did monthly payments instead of a lump sum...
No, that wasn't it. There was something about the idea that appealed to him less by the minute. All the way to the police building where Ema worked, Miles grew progressively less and less enthused about his gift. He'd planned to swing by the computer store after talking with Ema, place the database subscription order this evening, and then he could surprise Phoenix tomorrow morning. Immediately before the email from Klavier had arrived and they'd agreed to discuss their judge picks in person, he'd even begun picturing Phoenix's reaction when the man was presented with his gift.
In his imagination Phoenix had been startled, and initially reluctant to accept such an expensive present. But Miles had explained how it was to welcome him back to work, and then he'd joked about how now perhaps Phoenix and his associates would present a challenge to Miles' prosecutors. And then, softly, he'd explained how much he respected Phoenix as an attorney and how he wanted him to flourish like he deserved.
It was heartfelt. It was a million steps beyond what he would have done on his own, even if it was wholly accurate and sincere. So why, now, did it seem like the worst idea in the world?
For the first time he pictured Phoenix's reaction after Miles had left. Phoenix would set up his new computer, instruct Apollo or Athena to familiarize themselves with the agency's new law database, and then he'd... never need to look at another book.
Miles stared blankly through his windshield, barely seeing that he'd reached the precinct's parking lot and had pulled into the loading lane. What on earth was I thinking? he wondered, horrified. He'd thrown Phoenix out of his office just that morning, and then the very next day he'd remove that supposed reason for Phoenix to ever come see him? He'd politely thank me, Miles thought, feeling a headache prickle, and once I walked away, wondered how much I hated him if I paid thousands of dollars to make sure he never came to my office again.
"Remind me to thank you, Gavin," he muttered as his hands flexed around the steering wheel, "for making me question that decision." God bless that man's cockiness.
The sound of the knock on his window made him jump. Exhaling, Miles grasped for control as he turned to see Ema Skye standing there, waving at him. "Detective Skye," he said politely as he unlocked the door. "I'm glad you agreed to meet with me."
"Thanks for the ride offer, Mr. Edgeworth," Ema said brightly as she strapped on her seatbelt. It wasn't a voice that many people heard out of her, now. Miles didn't know whether her different behavior toward him was due to lingering gratefulness for Lana's case, that crush Klavier had mentioned (did it still exist?), or from how he and Phoenix were the only people in her daily life who had first come to know her as anything but a professional failure. Miles knew what it was like to need a few people with whom one could let down one's protective walls.
Ema continued, "It's going to be nice to not deal with any ass-grabbing on the Metro tonight."
Of course, some things had changed.
"Er, well, I was in the area," Miles lied, "and I'm glad to hear you won't need to deal with any, ah..." He cleared his throat and focused on getting through a few quick lane changes.
"Still," Ema ventured when they were safely on a major thoroughfare, "you don't usually offer people rides."
The unspoken question hung there, and with a sigh, Miles nodded. "I have to admit, Detective, I have an ulterior motive in meeting with you today."
"Should I be worried?" Ema asked silkily.
"Certainly not!" Miles said. Glancing at her amused expression barely lessened his nerves. "I assure you, Ms. Skye, if you would prefer to leave at any time, you're free to—"
"I'm sorry, I was kidding." She rested a hand on his arm. "Really, I was kidding. It was just... you picked me up in your flashy car, say you have an ulterior motive... I thought I'd make a little joke. I know you'd never do anything like that."
He breathed a sigh of relief. To think, two months ago he'd been so smug over Klavier getting rightly rapped on the knuckles for inappropriate behavior toward the woman. "Perhaps this was a bad idea, after all," he murmured. "I'll drive you home."
"No, no. You wanted to talk to me about something. What?" She nudged his arm again when he stayed silent. "Mr. Edgeworth, what is it?"
"My 'flashy' car," he repeated, and tried to put on a smile. "Is that a code word for ostentatious?"
"Maybe, but don't change the subject. I wanna hear."
Hoping he wouldn't regret this, Miles pulled into the first parking lot on their side of the street and dropped his car into neutral. "All right," he said in the most professional voice he could muster. "First off, I would like to say that there will be absolutely no employment-related repercussions should you decline this request."
"Okay," Ema said warily.
"I understand that you sometimes provide information to my office, but you do not report to me, and so I felt it—"
"Just tell me." Ah, there was that Ema Skye voice that most people heard.
Right. Okay. Very delicately, he began, "I have gotten into a wager, and the other party and I are in need of a judge." Ema still looked intrigued and entirely relaxed, and so he continued, "I've bet Prosecutor Gavin that—"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes. I'll do it. I'll be your judge."
"Er." Miles frowned. "Don't you want to know what the bet is?"
"I don't care. You win." She clapped her hands together once and beamed. "Congratulations!"
As satisfying as that announcement of victory was to hear... "We're looking for a serious judge," Miles told her with a chiding smile. "Someone who will genuinely weigh and consider the evidence. I proposed your name, and after... some significant resistance, Gavin agreed."
"Fine," Ema laughed. "Tell me what the bet is." He did, and her amusement died throughout, replaced by concentration. "Interesting," Ema said slowly. She studied her hands in her lap for a long beat, and when she looked back up to him, her eyebrows had pulled tightly together. "I'll still say yes, but I have some conditions."
"Of course. What are they?"
"You said that there wouldn't be any repercussions, no matter what I decided." As Miles nodded and reassured her, she held up her hand. "I also want to hear that, outside of work hours, I can ask anything and say anything and it's just a conversation between me and two guys, not between a detective and two prosecutors. If I can't get you to promise that I can ask anything I want, then I can't do this, because I wouldn't be using everything to make a proper analysis."
Something about that anything made worry build low in Miles' gut, but he forced it down and ignored it. It was only fair to allow her that flexibility, and of course she deserved reassurance that nothing she did during the course of this favor to him could possibly harm her career. "In the course of your judgeship, Your Honor," he said, and got the wry smile he'd been aiming for, "you may ask for any information without penalty."
"Okay. Then I'll do it." Ema leaned in close. "Is this about fucking?"
Miles' foot slipped off the clutch and the engine died. "I... I beg your pardon?"
"Is this really about showing how much you appreciate each other as platonic friends, or is this going to turn into a romantic comedy with a kiss at the end? I need to know the expected goals to assess how your behavior achieves them." His mouth gaped soundlessly, and so Ema continued, "That's only scientific, after all."
"Platonic!" Miles managed.
"All right." She hesitated. "Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that the fop would go for anything warm with a hole, and I know you don't like women."
"Detective Skye!"
"Fine, fine, I'll be nice. The fop would go for anyone warm." Ema's grin spread as Miles sputtered. "You said I could ask anything, and I've been wondering this for years, so I'm going for broke. Am I wrong about you? I mean, we've all seen so many women throw themselves at you and you are totally oblivious. Lana thought you were cute when you first started working there, I could tell. She kept trying to lean forward so that you'd notice her ass." Ema smirked. "You didn't."
"This was a mistake," Miles said in horror. And Lana had done what?
Ema tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But I shouldn't assume. Do you like... anyone? Asexuality is completely valid. And if that's what we're dealing with, then I do have a different picture of the situation." And then she actually pulled out a notepad, which Miles promptly snatched away. "Asexual," she slowly said, nodding.
"No! I mean." Miles inhaled. With how Ema still liked him, it was all too easy to forget how many people avoided the woman and how off-putting she could be when she put her mind to it. "It's simply not something I give much consideration to."
"Which sounds like asexuality to me, and that's totally okay. I was just curious." Ema pointedly retrieved her notepad and started jotting something down. Numbed by the conversation, Miles let her take it. "All right. So I'm guessing that the fop is going to try to seduce Apollo to show how much he 'appreciates him,'" she said, completed with fingerquotes, "while your approach will be platonic. That might deserve a different scoring mechanism, or, hmm... should this have a qualitative assessment instead of forcing it into a quantitative rubric..."
"There are some," Miles said quietly, the words stumbling out of him. She was just working so hard, and as awkward as it was to admit this... he didn't like hearing his own relationship misrepresented yet again.
"Hmm?"
"I do feel... occasionally, I feel attraction."
Ema slowly nodded and jotted something down that she probably thought he couldn't see: low but existent sex drive. It was difficult to keep from resting his forehead on the steering wheel and risk sounding the horn. "And Mr. Wright falls in that group, or you wouldn't have bothered correcting me."
"But that is not what this is about," he said firmly. "I simply didn't want you to mischaracterize the facts. I am not interested in a relationship, I'm not pursuing one, and this effort is entirely platonic on my part. Understood?"
"Understood," she said, and once again sounded like Detective Ema Skye, Official Arm of the Law. At least, until she just audibly muttered, "Gavin's totally going to try to fuck him."
"Prosecutor Gavin can do whatever he likes," Miles said, face warm, and restarted the ignition. "So long as you, Detective, understand that my behavior will be quite different and assess it on its own merits."
She nodded. "I promise that I'll do a fair job, Mr. Edgeworth." Her fingertips brushed his sleeve as he checked behind them for any passing cars, and he glanced over to see her small smile. "And everything we've just talked about is totally confidential."
"I knew it would be, Detective." Actually, I should have gotten that promise out of her before I said anything. I'm far too rattled right now. "And now I'll take you home."
A few blocks rolled past them. Miles' embarrassment had nearly faded when Ema piped up with, "Do I get to hear what you're going to do beforehand? It'd really help my accuracy if I could witness the effects as they happen."
Uncertainty over the computer came crashing back and Miles let out a tiny, strangled sigh. "I... yes. You will. When I figure out exactly what it is that I'm going to do."
"You don't know?" Ema asked. "But you always know what to do. And how hard is it to show someone that you like them?" He flashed a quick sidelong glare and she held up her hands. "Platonically. Just... show him, Mr. Edgeworth. And not in that unresolved sexual tension way that you two have in court."
He slammed on the brakes at a stop sign and turned a full-bore Miles Edgeworth glower on her.
Ema grinned. "We're still in the car. It's still confidential, so I still get to talk about it. Please don't say that you think Gavin is hot. Actually, don't even answer that."
Glad for the escape, Miles nodded mutely. No, he didn't find Klavier remotely attractive; too forward, too flashy. But the memories of his initial assessments of Kristoph were stomach-turning, now. Finding out the true nature of the man he'd only ever appreciated from a distance had gone to show him how very much safer it was to avoid all romantic entanglements. "You were joking about Lana, right?" he asked as he glanced at his phone's map and turned onto Ema's street.
"Nope. I thought it was weird until I got a little older and understood what she'd been doing." Ema smiled in that soft, distant way she sometimes got when her sister was under discussion. Lana was out of prison for her involvement in Gant's crimes and understandably didn't want to come back to work in Los Angeles. Denver had a good job opening for someone with her background, but that was a long flight separating them. "She didn't notice you for very long. I mean... it happened pretty soon after that." Ema studied her hands until he'd parked in front of her small apartment building, and when she looked back up, she seemed much more like the innocent girl he'd first met. "Thank you again. For everything. I hope you and Mr. Wright win."
"I hope so, too," Miles said. "But I anticipate your completely impartial judgment reaching that assessment, Detective. Are we clear?"
"Crystal. And just so you can breathe easy, I'm..." She gestured at one corner of her mouth, then mimed zipping across her lips. "But let me know when you've got something figured out, all right? I'll take notes. And," she added, sighing like Atlas himself had rolled the weight of the world onto her shoulders, "I guess I'll get in touch with the fop and tell him to do the same."
"I appreciate your participation."
"I appreciate the ride home!" Ema said cheerfully, and slammed the door.
Well, that had been infinitely more painful than he'd anticipated. Miles groaned and rolled his head between his shoulders, wondering how tense he'd be by the end of the week if Monday already felt like this. It wasn't like anything he'd said was a revelation to him; he'd been completely accurate in his descriptions, including his general disinterest in romance coupled with an acknowledgment of rare exceptions. It wasn't something that he'd put into words for another person to digest before, though. Ema's unflinching commentary had left him feeling a bit dizzy.
You always know what to do. How hard is it to show someone that you like them?
Urgh. Whatever the answer was, it wasn't signing a credit card slip for a new computer. Not when it would give an undeniable message of pushing Phoenix out of his life and closing the door. Phoenix Wright cared far more about people than things; he'd trade a hundred new computers for time with the people close to him.
And there the answer was in flashing neon lights. Thankfully still on roads with low speed limits, Miles started chuckling as he swerved once from surprise. Oh.
Looking at it this way, the answer was obvious. There was only one perfect 'gift' to give Phoenix, particularly after the conversation they'd had. Once again, he pulled off into the first parking lot, dropped out of gear, and began searching through his phone's contacts. Ah, there was the number that he'd dubiously entered as Phoenix insisted that he just liked to have it in the hands of potential emergency contacts: Wright, Trucy. "Trucy," he said when she answered. "Yes, it's Mr. Edgeworth. I understand that you're searching for victory over your father and his associates."
"You make it sound so serious," she laughed. "But yeah! Are you seriously going to do it? Dad said you wouldn't..."
"I've reconsidered." Miles hesitated. He wasn't sure what a 'game night' entailed, really. "Should... I bring food?"