Bad morning.

Sometimes he wandered through town on some indefinite mission, errands. On other occasions, he peddled to the creak of chain and the breathy air of spokes with no aim whatsoever. Apollo turned left.

He felt something lagging at the bottom of his brain- something that could have killed him three weeks ago, had he thought through the situation then. Instead, that story ended in cheering with some obnoxious grin and a pat on the back for good 'ol Phoenix Wright.

He wanted to go somewhere.

It took a minute of thinking to realize where already he was. He rolled his eyes upwards, disregarding the cracked sidewalk endlessly ahead of him. He mind was caught in a torrent, an empty lull of a stream.

He was two blocks away from the Agency. Apparently, he was going in a complete and utter circle.

A breath, and this particular man of the law heaved a breath of effort and stepped again. Forward- he let his eyelids sag, and knowing the neighborhood well enough, he could simply close his eyes. The mood wouldn't let him do it.

He saw the egg-white paint ages away from the Agency, wincing shamelessly at the snap of a twig under his wheel. He'd slept in that particular building several times, whether he was deep in the labor of a case or Mr. Wright refused to let him leave and "die a painful death" against a thunderstorm. iBut it was only drizzling, Mr. Wright./i

He stopped pedaling once he crossed the last street over, and let his feet dangle and drift against harmless little rocks that scritched on the sidewalk under his shoes. For some reason, that small scratching noise relaxed him, the bike against each slit in the sidewalk giving him a metronome to think on.

If it was anything close to what he thought it was, it was a sign. In particular, a sign to the Wright and Associates office. It was impressive, at least. Whatever associates he had, they must have pitched in to get a decent plaque, as whatever the tacky black letters on the door said years and years before, the adhesive left a tone to it.

Congratulations.

Come to think of it, this associate. He saw his face, maybe. He might have read ihis/i name once before now. It was coming to him as simply a figment of solid memory, but he couldn't put a face to him, nor a name. He read it on an envelope. A pen-pal, really.

Apollo drifted to the other side of the sidewalk. He preferred ignoring that detail. He preferred ignoring the small lot of grass just next to the door.

He preferred ignoring the idea that Phoenix had a second life from him. Even if that one had so much more to it that coming home with pudding to a sweet girl in blue and a stuttering little man such as himself. Apollo never asked him about it. Maybe that's why seeing his imentor/i in a suit, sans hat, looked so utterly profane and naked to him that he just up and left this morning.

Here he is, Mr. Justice having a fit over Mr. Wright's little scarlet letter.

It was, at least, understandable that he was scared of being replaced. Not the initial complaint, but a thought that clicked in his mind. iGreat, I'm paranoid too./i

The wheel was hitting the curb at the end of the street. He realized he could just go forward at this point, but settled in the middle of the way with his feet placed on the ground and let his hands drop to his thigh. He leaned back and knew he was looking rather cool, just sitting there.

iCool/i was the word; he craned his neck to look back at the sign, distant from foot to foot. Didn't move his hands, he still saw the stupid square foot of marble. Apollo gave a tired sigh- true to the fact that he's been outside all morning. He realized just how nippy everything was- he rolled his sleeves down.

Now this was a spectacle, he thought, but he was back in that comfort zone. Apollo looked to the ground. Phoenix had been on his mind all day, at least since he left. Whatever he had on his mind prior to seeing Phoenix in the attire he was so famous for was obsolete. He lost that appetite he needed to enjoy a nice breakfast.

So he's out wonderful March weather, he's active, but his shirt feels weird around the cuff and his stomach's gradually discovered it's emptiness.

He looked back at the office. The more he thought about it, the more his neck ached from the strain he was putting on it. He sighed, faked a decent piece of a smile, and almost turned left.

It was out of such luck, that, when he put his hands to the bars, he heard a creaking noise- one too familiar a dulcet.

He stared at Phoenix Wright as he graced around the door. A click, and he was in his jacket. His jacket and hat now, but tacky blue pants hung from his waist. It didn't match anything, and looked rather ridiculous.

Something compelled conversation. "Early bird, Apollo?" The reply was an uncharacteristically reluctant "Good morning, Mr. Wright."

"I was just about to go for breakfast, care to come along?"

No wonder this would turn into a short walk to Lunchland. It wasn't a bad place at all- nice, relatively quiet this time of the day, but it smelled too much from the coffee being ingested by the majority. It was pretty fast paced for one to look around, but if you kept your eyes around your own table, it was a pretty gentle, slow radius.

"So what have you been up to this morning?" Ever since last April, there had been this hesitation to go anywhere else in particular, Mr. Wright said. Now, he clips a fry in his lip. "Fighting crime on an empty stomach?"

"Yeah, pretty much the usual," a snicker in return. "Just realized I was hungry when I saw you."

"Well, that's dirty!." He laughed openly when Apollo finally caught on and stole a fry, grimaced as usual.

"Very funny." Apollo eyed the ceiling, downing food as he went along- this is the time in every conversation that time slows down, and he felt that horrible foreboding of them talking things out. "So, when do you open your office?"

"We're getting things arranged that we'll open office around the beginning of May. Edgeworth still has things to close up in Europe, so he'll be back around the 24th or so. Not sure."

"Are you excited?"

"Well yeah, sure! I mean, this is what I do, just... I miss court like you wouldn't believe." He scratched on his hat, tipping it. "I felt this pressure on me, and it satisfied me. Now I just around and point out plot holes in movies while Trucy picks on the acting."

"As I've seen," Apollo smiles and his company nods a few times. "And this Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Ummm, well... He was a prosecutor here. I've known him since grade school- really a great guy. I think you two'll get along."

"So umm... April then."

"Yeah, then I'm sure he'll have me moving things around the office to his liking. He's always been nit picky like that. But it's cute, huh?"

"I guess..." He moved to suck on his straw.

"...Apollo, tell me something."

Sip. "Yeah, Mr. Wright?"

"You're not yourself this morning."

"I'm not?"

"Not really, no... At least, I don't see it, but I'm sure Trucy would right now."

"Well, I don't see anything wrong here, so... I'm fine, really," and Apollo faked a smile to finish it off.

There, however, was a problem in his own judgment. His friend was still looking at him with the same expression. Apollo tried to censor his own mind with the sounds seeping in from the rest of the restaurant, as effective as it was. His eyes were numbing inside his head, but Phoenix still spread his mouth out in lack of satisfaction from his "pupil," as it were. To top that off, the image of Phoenix hands pursing through his hoodie, fondling something in his pocket let him knew that... it wasn't as convincing as it could have been.

"I should be looking for a new firm, shouldn't I?"

And look- look here. It's all out in the open for Phoenix to shrug and think this over.

"You want to leave?"

"I figured you and, this Mr. Edgeworth were iWright and Associates/i, so... hmmmm..." he simmered into his chair. "I just thought that--" He was interrupted by a sedated little grin, relaxed by an early morning and something that was apparently no big deal to him.

"Since when didn't we associate, Apollo?" He flicked salt packets across the table. This was a pastime. "Edgeworth sent me that plaque, if that's what you mean. I didn't know that it'd bother you so quickly."

"If, I dunno. We didn't really get much of a chance to talk about it, and you've always seemed to be talking to this... Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I guess I did do a bad job at that, huh? I didn't mean to leave you out, but most of my work between me and Mr. Edgeworth wasn't really about the office at all."

"Really?"

"No, it was mostly personal, with a hint of organization like flights and living arrangements and whatever. He sent the plaque and I put it up last night." iOh, okay then. So--/i "So I don't want you to leave. I assumed you wouldn't want to anyway, right?"

They both smiled at each other. Apollo aimed a salt packet at Wright, and flicked. "Right." It missed, but it really didn't matter. The crinkling noise altered the atmosphere. That was what he needed to top it off. It was- people talking behind them made no intimidating difference anymore.

Neither had much of a tip, but they left anyway. It didn't occur to either of them that Apollo had left his bike out on the sidewalk-- broad daylight even, until they returned. The shine it had as they saw it down the block caught them off guard as they gradually identified it down the street.

Apollo croaked in his shoes and Mr. Wright laughs, as surprisingly, it was just fine the way it was-- nothing was stolen from him.

Good morning.