"To...hell, I ain't any good at these toast thingums. To...?"
"To one down in flames and two to go."
Angel clinks her glass to Jake's as they send out 2016 by toasting to the ruination of Miles Edgeworth.
'S the best Christmas present Jake coulda asked for, even better than the hunting knife from Dad or the gift card he won as a door prize at the Department's annual holiday bash, that's allowin' him and Angel to be at this top-shelf Italian joint tonight.
Hadn't needed any of Angel's boyfriends to get ahold of that info. It was front-page news how the brat had found himself in the defendant's chair, accused of shooting a defense attorney on Christmas Eve night. Not guilty, it turned out. At least for Edgeworth. His life-long mentor Von Karma was found to've offed Edgeworth's pop some fifteen years ago.
'Cause of that, Angel's doubly over the moon. She don't have it in for Von Karma, just dislikes him on the principle that he's always been more shady than you could shake a stick at. She goes on sayin' his downfall along with Edgeworth's means it's only a matter of time 'fore the rest of them crumble like oyster crackers in hot chowder.
So she don't take too kindly to when Jake refers to Edgeworth as the victim.
"Christ!" Jake draws his hand up to deflect the empty butter packet thrown at him. "Calm down. I jus' meant if you wanna get technical 'bout it, then yeah. Didn't say I felt bad for the lil' prick."
The wool'd been pulled over his eyes 'til now. He'd been plumb foolish thinkin' Edgeworth had been man enough to decide things for hisself, had even been the one doin' the decidin' for others. Truth is, he's as spineless as can be, which made sense – allowed plenty of room for Manfred von Karma to thread the puppet strings in.
He uses his fork to push the nasty greens on his plate away from gettin' too cozy with his veal parmesan. "It just kinda makes you think, you know? If Von Karma and Gant – they're two of a kind. Always workin' the same cases, always the rumors. S'how they got to where they are, right? And Von Karma had his little pet strung up...so could be the same for -"
"Don't try to defend Skye." Angel starts sawwing her knife through her chicken marsala like it's still cluckin' and she needs to shut it up. "She's just as vile as all of them and is working alongside Gant, not under him. If you'd start thinking with the right head when it comes to her then -"
"I ain't defendin'! I'm sayin', Von Karma takes Edgeworth under his wing so's he could fiddle with his every move, groom him into the little lapdog he became. How do you know it's not different for -"
"Jake! Let's just talk about something else for now, okay? Maybe you're not wrong, but your theories need time to simmer in my mind, like a good stock." She finishes off her glass of wine and immediately begins to pour herself another from the bottle. "Talking any more about prosecutors is going to make me lose my appetite."
Jake chews his veal, knowin' there's only two ways to argue with a woman like Angel.
And neither of them will work.
He swallows. "Fine. Tell me 'bout your Christmas, and I'll tell you 'bout mine."
"So by then Gumshoe's so sloshed on eggnog that he's goin' around askin' people how they got all the nog outta the egg to make it." Jake holds the door open for Angel, as she slips on her fuffy jacket.
"Hm, and who could've planted that idea in his head?"
Ah, that hadn't been too nice of Jake, plying Dick with all that eggnog at the Department's holiday party two weeks ago. But the only time the cowdog quit flappin' his gums 'bout Edgeworth this, Edgeworth that, oh boy he got Edgeworth a new pen for Christmas and he sure hopes his pal likes it, was when he'd been downin' the spiked eggnog Jake kept bringing him.
Wonder what poor Gumshoe has to say about his pal Edgeworth now.
"Okay, okay, Cough-Up Queen." Jake holds his hands up in surrender as they enter the mild December night. "Ya got me. I confess to all charges."
Angel laughs, as glitzy-bright as her sparkly hairband, and reaches to bring Jake's arms down so she can link one of hers in one of his. She's so pretty tonight, Jake thinks she's done been plucked off the top of a Christmas tree.
They fall into a comfortable silence for a few blocks, the only noise Angel's heels clickety-clacking along the sidewalk. The streets are fair empty for New Year's Eve night. Guess everyone's either out at some hoe-down or crashin' at home.
"That was really swell." He says when they stop at an intersection, waiting for the walk-light to change. "Maybe we could go back sometime, once I save up a month or two."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Well, it was nice and all, but I think I like Jack's better." The little hombre turns green, and they start headin' across.
Jake chuckles, nudges her shoulder with his. "No foolin'? That place is a hole an' you know it."
"Oh, but it's like my Noontime Natto box: slimy and foul-smelling, but an acquired taste enjoyed by many."
"Includin' you."
"Including me," she affirms. "I mean, I guess places like Vincenzo's are nice once and a while but where's the character? The jukebox that plays the same cheesy songs every time? The foozball table with the broken goalie? The-"
"The whats-its?"
"The foozball table. C'mon Jake, you know what-"
"I know what a danged foozball table is. I jus' mean, they tore that thing out months 'fore we started goin' there. I was there the night some klutzy waitress spilled a whole tray of spaghetti all over it, got the whole thing gunked and stained with sauce. Them foozy-ball players looked like they'd been defendin' the Alamo."
Angel smiles at him as slow and sweet as honey, suggestin' she knows something he don't. "Jake Marshall, do you think you're the only man to ever show me a good time there?"
"You steppin' out on me, huh? What kind of son-of-a-gun takes a lady like you to a dump like that." The 'sides me is implied in his wolfish grin.
"Now, now. Don't talk about your brother that way."
Jake stops in his tracks, and Angel breaks her link with him, keeps walking on ahead.
Well now. The Cough-Up Queen with her own confession.
"Angel!" He calls to her, and she turns still lookin' all sweet-as-can-be 'bout what she just spit up.
"Yes?"
He don't say anything. Just goes on starin' while she goes on smilin', and starts walking back to him.
"See, that wasn't too hard, now was it? Talking about Neil. You should try it again some time!"
"Angel-"
"Goddammit, Jake!" She stomps her foot down hard, hair shakin' loose from her headband and eyes a-blazin' like they used to when she was in the interrogation room. "We just spent the last two hours talking more about Miles fucking Edgeworth than we've ever said about Neil in the last, what, year and change?"
"An' what you want me to say about him?! Or, what you wanna say 'bout him? He never told me you two were a-courtin'."
"What?! Oh God, no, we weren't. We hung out a few times when we'd have to stay late to work on...on the case. Look, what happens two months from now? Then what?"
"Whaddya mean, 'then what'? What's that gotta do with Neil – with us talkin' about him or not?"
"'Then what', we just quit hanging out and move on? I mean, you're always talking about doing this or going there but..." Her words are all sad and fluttery-like, like a flower losin' its petals. "After this is all over, we won't...probably won't have any reason to see each other. At least, that's how it feels a lot of the time, when all we talk about is the case. And I don't want to...I don't want to lose you."
She don't mean it in that doe-eyed damsel way she likes to show the other fellows, but that she really needs someone in the most down-earth way another person can.
"Hey..." Jake shifts his body so he can put an arm around Angel, pull her against him and let her talk angled towards his chest.
"I mean, I can't begin to understand what the hell you're going through, but Neil was your best friend – and I knew him too, he wasn't like a total stranger to me. I miss him too. And you not even bothering to talk about him... it just makes me think even more that I will lose you, you know? That this is all about the case and that we can't...just talk."
She ain't crying yet, but her finger keeps goin' to the corner of her eyes, touching where her eye-goop is, like it could begin any minute. "I don't mean you have to talk about him all the time or anything, but -ugh!"
"No, I get it..." And he sorta does, now. All the other men; she uses them, yeah, but she's givin' up a lot more. All to help Jake. He could see where at times he probably led her to think he mighta been usin' her too, for a different purpose, but just as ready to toss her away.
Weren't his intention – sounds like she knew that, so he can't blame her for lettin' her emotions get the better of her. He'd be blowin' smoke if he said he had a full grip on his own over these past two years.
"I dunno know what happens after all this, Angel. Haven't thought that far...but a real man don't abandon those who didn't abandon him. This ain't gonna be over 'tween us, I give you my word on that. I'll stick closer to you than fleas on a hound – you get to choose who's which."
"Okay..." She lets out an airy sigh; not much, but at least it's not gettin' closer to tears.
He waits for her to say anything more, but she don't, so he takes a deep breath and finally 'fesses up.
"And...talkin' bout Neil with everyone else got me nothin' but high and dry, guess I just kind of...got it in my head I shouldn't bring him up 'round anyone. Didn't wanna scare you away from helpin' me by rambling on too much. But...I wanted to, y'know, deep down. Feels like you're the only one who even remembers him."
And bullseye. Now that he's said it out loud, that's what it is. Felt like after the case was closed, Neil became nothin' but a name in a file to everyone other than their parents. Would it have even mattered if he'd said a word about his brother, when it seemed like Jake was the only one who cared he was gone?
She lets out a trembling laugh, swipes the heel of her hand across her cheek. "He used to talk about you all the time, one stupid story after another about all the trouble you two got yourselves into."
Angel sounds a bit too fond of that memory, like them stories weren't that stupid after all. She's a bit more spirited now, but not quite all the way there. So Jake tries to get her to buck up, teases her. "Are you sure you two weren't canoodlin' behind our backs? Here I thought you hated prosecutors."
That comment earns another shaky giggle, and she inhales a steadying breath before answering him. "Would you shut up? I assure you, it was nothing but pasta, drinks and me whipping his ass at pool. I can't date a man who threatens to cut my salary whenever he loses."
Jake can picture it clear as day: Neil all red-faced from Angel beating him, little-way 'cause he's sore about it, and most-ways 'cause she probably looked so damned gorgeous, all joyful with her victory, that if he don't scowl at her, he'll break into the same dopey smile he always did whenever her name was mentioned.
"Ms. Angel, I think a man finally pulled one over on you." He starts laughing, bringing his free hand to his hat like he intends to pull it down and catch that laughter to save for later. "Sounds exactly like you were out on Neil's idea of a date."
She blinks up at him, confused as a circle at a square dance.
So, Jake tells her.
How he'd never known someone with so many smarts use less than none of 'em on womenfolk. Not that Jake was a real whiz-bang when it came to the fairer sex, but he knew enough that you don't show a gal a good time by bringin' her out to take swings at batting cages, or to a bowling alley that don't even have an automatic pinsetter, just some crusty ol' goat named Ralph.
S'bout the romantical equivalent of scrapin' cow chips from your boots, yet Neil thought that was how you get on with prospective ladyfriends.
And tellin' her all this ain't the least bit gut-wrenching as he spent a year convincin' himself it'd be. It's like climbing onto a broken-in saddle, real comfortable and easy to manuever about in.
Could be 'cause Angel's the one he's saddlin' up for.
"So which stupid stories 'bout us did Neil tell you?" he asks, releasing his arm from around her.
She rolls her eyes, and slides her headband out to readjust it. "Not all of them, I'm sure."
Jake has a bonanza to pick from. "He tell you the one 'bout when we was in Montana and an elk nearly tipped our car over?"
"Good God, what? What'd you two do to provoke it?
"Hey now! Why's it our fault!?"
Flashing her pearly whites at him, Angel takes Jake by the arm, leading him back the direction from which they came and into the lights of the city. "Better start talkin', cowboy. Or I'll make you cough it up."
He's tellin' Angel about when they went out drinking all night after Neil passed his bar exam, just arrivin' at the meatiest part.
"And the fourth saloon we stumble into, hoo-boy! Turns out there's some big shindig goin' on for some ninety-year old hen an' her ol' biddy friends. We walk in the door just a-lookin' for another round of drinks, an' she thinks we're there for her! Two young cowpokes ready to -"
All a sudden, there's whooping and cheering from allovers, near and far. Firecrackers whistle, snap-crackle and wheeeeeep! overhead, and horns are a-honkin'.
It's 2017.
The first person to wish Jake a Happy New Year isn't Angel.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" A voice shouts, and its owner comes gunnin' down the sidewalk right for them. Jake instinctively steps in front of Angel as the stranger's hand goes to his hip and pulls out...
a shower of glitter.
Jake brings his arm up to shield himself, his ears ringing with Angel's surprised cusses. He can smell the distinct pungence of patchouli, and lowers his arm to see a dreadlocked young'n, wearin' alls of a pair of suspenders and wiry fairy wings.
"Happy New Year! Wooo!" The freak leaps about, and throws out another fistful of glitter for good measure. "WOO! Peace, love and green for twenty-seventeen! Woo-woo!"
And then he a-prances off down the sidewalk, and Jakes hopes, soon into oncoming traffic.
Angel's laughing so hard beside him she's squatted down into a crouch, face tipped down and buried in her hands.
"I'm glad you think it's funny." He makes haste in brushin' all the dust from his arms, his shoulders. Looks like he took the brunt of it, though Angel's got a full trail of it down the left sleeve of her coat.
She collects herself, standing straight up as Jake removes his hat. "It's a good look for you. Rhinestone cowboy, perhaps?"
He vigorously shakes his hat out in front of him, watchin' the itsy-bits of silver scatter out.
"No it ain't. Looks like a goddamned disco ball done yakked up all over me."
Angel grabs hold of his hat in mid-shake to pull herself closer. Tilting in, she pushes to her toes and presses a silky-soft kiss to his cheek.
She steps away, lookin' not amorous but just pleased to be here. With Jake. With a friend. "Happy New Year."
"You too, Ms. Angel."
A beat, a smile exchanged.
"So you got any New Year's resolutions?" she asks.
Both their answers to that are the same, obvious one, but Jake humors her and plays along.
"Well, my first resolution is find that sumbitch hippie and shoot him right in the hindquarters. Yours?"
"M-Mine...?" She sinks from her giggling into earnest thought, before she gets this real witchy smile and claws a heap of glitter from her sleeve to fling it over at Jake.
"Peace, love and green in twenty-seventeen, Jake!"
He snatches her wrist, makes to bend it up so she's pushin' that sparkledust into her own face. "I'll show you peace and lovin'."
She shrieks with laughter, trying to struggle away from him to no avail as he smears her cheek with her own glittery hand.
Here they are, a couple of nobodies with nothin' going for 'em in the middle of God-knows-where L.A. ringin' in the New Year gettin' bushwhacked by some granola-crunchin' pixie yahoo.
But Jake doesn't mind none. He ain't particularly troubled about bein' here at the low-downest bottom of the barrel, since he's got someone like Angel ridin' along side him.
Sure beats bein' up high like Miles Edgeworth, with the kinda friends he has.
