((Three cheers for irregular updates!))

Phoenix stepped into his room and closed the door behind him. He rested his back on the pressboard wood and let himself slide down it slowly until he was in a seated position. His situation wasn't so bad. Really, it wasn't. As long as he kept telling himself that, he'd be okay. Lying makes things better, thought the lawyer.

It really could be worse. All he had to do was abandon his kid at home alone for over a day and go on a long road trip with the possibly intoxicated man that had taken his job from him to a place he didn't want to, but had to be. And his balls still kind of hurt. "It's better than being hit by a flaming bus full of angry lions on steroids," he muttered to himself, letting out a sigh. "But if one came screaming through the wall right now, I wouldn't be that broken up about it."

He got to his feet and brushed some dust off of an oversized rolling suitcase that leaned on a wall. The thing was frigging massive, but you take what you can get. Lugging it over to his bed, he unzipped it and dropped in a change of clothes he pulled at random from a pile nearby. He checked his phone again, to make absolutely sure that tomorrow was the day. It was, unfortunately. He also noticed that he only had a bar of battery left, so he turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket as he stepped into the bathroom, trying to think happy thoughts and failing at it.

Apollo heard the bathroom door shut from the living room-main office area, where he was sitting trying to tell himself he was imagining things. This was his chance! He could find the incriminating evidence, or, hopefully, lack of it, in his room while Wright was in the can!

Slowly, slowly, slowly he rose from the pleather couch, wincing at the squeaky noise the cheap dead-cow wannabe material made. Slipping his shoes off for maximum sneakiness, checking that Trucy was still in the land of Jeremy Fink, Apollo padded like a cat on the balls of his feet to the door.

"Hey, Polly,"

He nearly tripped over his socks and whipped around "AIGH, WHAT!? W-What…?"

Trucy looked at him weirdly again, she'd been doing that a lot lately, and Apollo was worried her face would stick that way. "Um… Never mind?"

Apollo gave a wavery sigh and pushed open the door slowly as he willed his heartbeat to regulate again. "I've had a long day, I'm sorry…"

Poking his head into the room, he stepped in quietly and slid the door shut behind him. A fall breeze wafted in through an open window and made him shiver. Not everyone wears winter clothes all the time, Mr. Wright…

Scanning the room, he almost instantly found what he was looking for, an enormous suitcase sitting on the mattress Wright slept on. Apollo had to walk around it to fully absorb the hugeness of the thing, a big, black, pully, rolly thing that, when upright, would probably go almost up to his shoulder. It was unzipped. He rubbed his hands together Indiana-Jones-style to prepare himself.

And then the bathroom doorknob made a click noise.

Apollo's heart skipped a beat before he franticly looked around the room for a place to hide. The room was bare, and the mattress laid on the floor. To get to the door he would have to run over the mattress, and that would make a loud noise. He panicked and looked behind him, breaking out into a cold sweat. The window would work. But how high up were they? He remembered the stairs with a sinking feeling. The knob turned.

It had to be done.

"I'M AWAKE, DAMMIT!" was inscribed in bold lettering on the large, blue mug. And he was. Klavier's mouth tasted like toothpaste and coffee, and that wasn't pleasant, but other than that he was feeling way better. His head still hurt, but he didn't feel so grimy anymore after changing clothes and showering. He took another sip of liquid slap-to-the-face as he tried to piece together what went down earlier today. It was just a few hours ago, he knew, but he was having trouble.

Phoenix had come over and asked for something, but what? He picked at a loose string on the sleeve of his tee shirt. Well, he could always drive over there and ask.

Drive.

Klavier spit his coffee all over the table.