Time: 6:30 PM
Location: Home
Weight: 120 lbs
Mood: Content
Tonight is our two month anniversary. I know that a two month anniversary is hardly a thing to celebrate, but when you've never had a relationship last this long, like me, it's a big deal!
I bought a new cocktail dress from downtown and matching shoes. I've never cared about my outfits so much before. Or painting my nails. I'm starting to think Kristoph is rubbing off on me a little.
Living with him isn't weird at all anymore. Thinking back about it, that first week was a little strange, but like I told him, I could certainly get used to living in his fancy condo with him cooking delish dishes.
His cooking truly is fantastic. It's often better than the restaurants we go to. I almost wonder if in another time, or another life, he was a chef.
Kristoph is a little late tonight. I know I shouldn't worry, but I do whenever this happens. When he comes in late it's almost as if he's a different person sometimes…
Ema heard the door to the condo open and quickly put her journal away. She walked into the front room and found Kristoph in the entryway, just finishing slipping his shoes off.
"Hey Kris, how was your day?" she asked with a grin. Lightly, she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
He smiled back, putting down his briefcase so that he could hug her in return. "Far better now that you're here, mein fräulein."
Never one to miss a beat, he murmured, "you look especially beautiful tonight."
"Thank you," she murmured, silently extremely happy that he had noticed her new clothes.
Kristoph's arms were warm and welcoming, just like they always were. Ema could sense though, as she sometimes did when he came home late, that something was bothering him greatly.
"There's something's troubling you again, isn't there?" she nudged gently.
"Mm, it's this case. The defendant is being difficult, as usual," Kristoph muttered, making his way to the kitchen.
"It's more than the case, I can tell," Ema insisted.
Kristoph pulled open the refrigerator door, just a tad more forcefully than usual. "No, the case is the only thing on my mind."
Ema knew he was agitated. She placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing for just a moment before holding out a helping hand to him. "Ok, we'll play it your way. Just don't overwork yourself. I'm here if you ever want to talk."
He handed her a plate of lasagna rolls that he had prepared earlier that day. "You'll be the first to know if anything happens, mein fräulein." Kristoph leaned down and lightly kissed her lips, then murmured, "Put them in the oven at 360."
She did as instructed and waited at the kitchen bar, watching Kristoph as he moved around gracefully through the kitchen. Yes, there was definitely the slightest bit of agitation in everything he did. Everything from preparing their side dish of mixed vegetables to the way he opened he cabinets and drawers seemed a little… forced.
Sighing, Ema retired to reading the local paper. A silly smirk touched her lips when she noticed that Kristoph had underlined things again. It was such a silly habit of his, but she supposed that if he could put up with her constant scientific tests, she could bear with his underlining.
Another article by Spark Brushell bore his faint pencil marks. He really seemed to like that goofy journalist's work.
Ema also noted that Kristoph must have a soft spot for children and children's books. The painter and author Drew Misham also received faint pencil markings occasionally. She was faintly surprised when she turned to the Arts and Entertainment section, noticing that Drew Misham had come out with another award winning children's book.
More importantly, Kristoph hadn't circled this one.
"So, Drew Misham's new book didn't make your favorites list, did it?" She chided him with a smile.
Kristoph froze, "What?"
Ema was slightly taken aback, but she answered him, "you know, that illustrator you seem to like so much. Drew Misham. You're always circling his work."
Kristoph threw the bowl of vegetables haphazardly onto the kitchen counter, ignoring the bowl as it rolled off the table, the contents spilling onto the counter and floor. His frantic dash was a little startling, and Ema nearly jumped when he tore the paper from her hands. "Where?! Where is it?!"
"It's… it's right there… it's an advertisement for his new book 'Foggie and the land of the Toads.'" She explained, sensing that she should back away.
The look in Kristoph's eyes was like none she had seen before. There was a certain crazed quality to the usually calm blue hue. His lips twitched ever so subtly and he murmured, "Drew Misham…"
Kristoph tipped his head back, pressing his glasses back up with his right hand. When the light glinted off the glass panes, it was then that she thought she saw it.
A demon, on his right hand.
It could have been her imagination. In fact, moments later, when he had finished adjusting his glasses and was blinking back at her with apologetic eyes, she was certain that it was entirely in her head.
"I'm so sorry you had to see that, mein fräulein. I didn't mean to frighten you," Kristoph explained gently, stepping closer to Ema. "Drew Misham's work… fascinates me. You could say I have a certain fondness for his art."
Ema glanced at the simplistic sample pictures on the advertisement, and then at the grandiose impressionistic paintings garnishing Kristoph's condo. If she squinted at them hard enough, she could just maybe see how they might be similar. "I see," she responded curtly.
Kristoph finished closing the gap between them, pulling her into a loose embrace. "I can tell that you don't believe me completely… perhaps you'd like to see my collection?"
"Collection?" She asked, taken aback. "You collect children's books?"
He smiled, guiding her into another room and over to a bookshelf that she had previously thought was full of boring paralegal books. "They bring back memories of when I would read to Klavier."
"You read to your little brother?" Ema beamed at him. "First nail polish, and now reading to children. You really are on your way to being a mother!"
While Kristoph grimaced and accidentally slipped the word "kinder" into his next sentence, Ema was reminded of Klavier. When she talked about him with Kristoph, Klavier always seemed like an immature little brother. He blundered and made simple little brother mistakes.
In person, Klavier was, for all practical purposes, the same man she had met on the street the first time she literally "ran into him." He was ever the glimmerous fop, but something about him seemed different now. When he looked at her… when he talked to her…
"What is fraulien Skye thinking?" Kristoph inquired tracing his index finger along her temple and back through her hair.
"Klavier is lucky to have you as an older brother," she altered her thoughts quickly, smiling back at him.
He chuckled, "I'm sure Klavier wouldn't agree."
"Why not?" Ema asked, taking one of the books off the shelf. "I always loved it when Lana read to me."
She never would have expected it, but they spent the next couple hours pulling out children's books and talking about childhood memories. Anyway, Ema discussed her childhood at length.
Even though Kristoph said quite a bit, she felt as though she hadn't learned much about his childhood at all after that time. He had a way of doing that.
It wasn't until a fragrantly burnt aroma filled the air that Kristoph quickly sprung to his feet. "The lasagna rolls…"
They both ran into the kitchen, but it seemed they were too late. A cloud of dark smoke filled the air when Kristoph pulled open the oven. Black crisply burnt cheese covered the similarly charred rolls. "You didn't set the kitchen timer, did you?"
"You never told me to," she said hastily, folding her arms across her chest. She wasn't going to take responsibility for this one.
Kristoph sighed, scooping the contents of the pan into the trash can. "I don't think we should eat that for dinner."
"Are we eating out again?" Ema asked, flicked her eyes over to his.
"It looks that way," he admitted, placing the pan into the sink. He wafted the smoke away, crossing back to her side of the kitchen. "What do you say we visit Phoenix?"
* * *
Time: 8:50 PM
Location: The Borscht Bowl Club
Mood: Slightly annoyed
Though Ema often preferred Kristoph's fantastic cooking, dining at restaurants really didn't bother her. At least three times a week, it seemed like they would head to a classy restaurant.
Or the Borscht Bowl Club.
By now, Ema had become accustomed to the various unappealing dishes the restaurant served. She had also become inured to Phoenix's horrendous piano playing while they dined.
After their first encounter at the Borscht Bowl Club, Phoenix hadn't said anything mysterious involving Kristoph anymore. She wondered what he had meant, and she even attempted to ask him a couple of times when Kristoph went to the bathroom.
Never again did he give her a clear answer. Ema had the feeling that she had become involved with something far over her head. She could never say what it was, but occasionally she would get that feeling too.
Sometimes when she sat on the train for work or stood alone by the window at their condo, waiting for Kristoph to come home, she would get that nagging feeling that all was not as well with her world as she thought. Even when they had dinner with Phoenix she would get that feeling.
Like usual, she ignored it.
"I serve you borscht, da!" Couldn't this restaurant get normal waiters? The disaffected and apathetic girl from before had been replaced with a timid blonde girl who dressed as if she really were outside in the frigid Russian winter.
Ema wasn't about to complain, though. This girl had already enthusiastically showed them to a table and brought them water, a bread basket, and a lit candle for their table. All within a minute of their arriving at the restaurant.
While the girl scurried off with their orders, Ema focused on Phoenix's haphazard piano playing. Deciding that it was, as usual, quite appalling, she turned to Kristoph instead. "Is it just me, or is the turnover around here unusually high?"
"The waitresses you mean?" Kristoph took a sip of his seltzer water. "They usually only last a few weeks. This is the first time I have seen this new girl."
"Olga started yesterday, but she's quite enthused," Phoenix commented, turning around in his seat. "I think she's already memorized the entire menu. It's quite impressive."
Ema recalled that the menu had grown since her first visit. Now, they actually offered more than hot or cold borscht. Some of their new dishes weren't entirely unappetizing either!
"You've finished your song? I couldn't tell," Kristoph chuckled.
"Thanks Kristoph," Phoenix responded dryly. "You are ever my critic."
"Have you ever thought of taking piano lessons? You could actually get good that way," Ema suggested.
"Someday perhaps," he conceded. "But for now I'm afraid you'll have to deal with my unique interpretations."
"Anything for you, Mr. Wright," she replied with a smile.
"So I hear that today is a very special day for you two," Phoenix ventured.
"Oh, yes! It's our two month anniversary," Ema responded, feeling just a bit embarrassed to be celebrating such a small amount of time.
As if he had read her mind, Phoenix said, "Well hey, you've got to start somewhere, right?"
He was right. During and after dinner, the thought ran through her mind. Start somewhere… did that mean that she would stay with Kristoph? There was no way to tell, and Phoenix (who had already finished at least half a bottle of his "grape juice") certainly didn't seem like he was going to help her answer that question.
* * *
Time: 10:35 PM
Location: Back at the condo
Mood: Thoughtful
When I met Kristoph Gavin I thought he was the most mysterious and charming man in the world. He was right up there with my childhood idol, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.
While that hasn't changed, I can't help but wonder if this is really how it is meant to be. How can a girl like me be so lucky on the first try? My first real boyfriend is a successful and gentlemanly defense attorney. He cooks better than Martha Stewart, and he owns a classy condo in the high-scale end of LA.
When I think about the last two months, the phrase "time of my life" comes to mind. It has truly been fantastic, but…
Ema paused, not really sure how to complete that sentence. "But sometimes he's a little crazy?" "But he has a strange unexplainable anger every other night or so?"
None of the options seemed suitable, true though they were. In the end, she left that ending blank.
This current case has been a pain in the butt too. Neither Klavier nor I can figure out why a murderer would leave a party cup at the scene with fingerprints and lipstick… especially when the suspect is a man! The fingerprints match the suspects though, but the lip marks? Maybe that's a test we should run tomorrow.
Ema continued to vent, as she often did, in the next few paragraphs, detailing her court case for a page or so. When she finished, she tossed the book onto her nightstand and flopped down in her bed.
"Who are you, Kristoph Gavin?" she murmured into her pillow. "… and what are you hiding from me?"
* * *
LateNiteSlacker's Notes:
The plot thickens. If you've played Apollo Justice (and I really hope you have if you're still reading by this point!) then you know exactly where it is going.
Please leave any questions/comments/concerns! And love. Lots of love. =)
