That evening, there was a knock at his door. Three quick, short raps; forceful, and pronounced, echoing in the large — too large — house. At first Klavier didn't know what to make of it; the millions of frazzled thoughts racing through his head — paparazzi; his agent; Herr Edgeworth; Kristoph — were enough to distract from—

Three more knocks.

"Prosecutor Gavin! You in?"

That voice. Klavier opened the door; frowned.

"Herr...Forehead? What are you doing here?"

Tonight there was no moon outside, and on his doorstep stood Apollo Justice. His hair flat, plastered to his forehead; he'd only a thin jacket on.

Apollo shuffled, sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Ah, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Klavier spotted the bag of takeout in his hand; his lips turned up but the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Bribing the prosecution with dinner? You know I'm only persuaded by the best places in town."

"Yeah, uh, not with my salary."

Klavier chuckled lightly — hollowly — sidestepping to let Apollo in. "Tja, well, dinner is always appreciated."

"Nice to know I'm appreciated sometimes," he grumbled. "So, where should I put this?"

Klavier shut the door; motioned vaguely down the hallway to the kitchen. He grimaced behind Apollo; there was that pile of dishes in the sink he hadn't tended to, and hardly anything in the fridge.

"What did you get then, for dinner?" he asked, leaning against the doorway; one foot in the kitchen and one foot out, unsure of whether he should help or not. A stranger in his own house.

"Chinese, from, uh, Clay's favourite place. Yeah," Apollo replied, paying him no mind as he pulled out the aluminium containers.

"I got a bunch of things because I didn't know what…" he trailed off, clearing his throat and gesturing at the food. "Anyway, you can see for yourself."

Then, moving from the counter, and jerking his head, he asked, "Where do you keep your plates? Unless...you just want to eat off your lap?"

"Ach," Now Klavier stepped into the room — remembered the trash needed taking out — and again, pointed vaguely above Apollo's head. "Plates are in the upper corner cabinet. Cutlery is in the drawer next to the stove."

"...Found 'em."

Klavier nodded, and turned his attention to the food; there was shrimp fried rice, and General Tso's chicken. A box of spring rolls too. Apollo really had made an effort here.

"And glasses?" Apollo asked, pulling him out of his reverie. "I didn't bring any drinks though, since I didn't know what you...liked."

Klavier waved him off. Another winning smile. "Quite alright, ah, they're in that other cabinet," he said, and with a light sigh, he added humorously, "Entschuldigung, I am...a terrible host."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Apollo said with a wan smile.

Klavier laughed again. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well I dunno, I guess you've just...always had people managing these parties for you while you did your thing."

"Ja, but...those are parties. This is…"

He didn't know what this was, and Apollo didn't prompt him further. So they filled their plates, and made for the living room. Vongole chose then to make his entrance, padding lazily out of the bedroom. He took one sniff at Apollo and curled up at Klavier's feet, right by the pile of casefiles.

They ate in relative silence, and Klavier couldn't remember when he'd last had...something resembling a proper meal. Not since... not since Herr Edgeworth had dragged him downstairs to the cafeteria one lunchtime. But that was...over a month ago, at least.

Once they'd finished and set down their plates on the table, Apollo was the first to speak again.

"Uh, so, I just wanted to say…whatever reason you think I'm here for— it's not it."

Klavier frowned; he didn't think there was any reason for this visit.

"I just thought…" he continued, fidgeting his seat, tugging at his jeans. "My bracelet's been acting really weird around you lately, and maybe, I dunno, you'd...want someone to talk with."

"Your...bracelet..." he repeated slowly; Trucy Wright had one, too, if his foggy brain was to be believed.

Apollo rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, you know— When I'm in court and I can kinda… 'spot' a witness's tells?"

Klavier blinked; leapt forward. "Ach! And that's when you scream 'Gotcha!'"

Apollo laughed nervously; blush creeping up his face. "Yeah, well, that's because of this," — his bracelet, wooden and heavy, caught the lamplight; twinkled in Klavier's eye — "It tends to squeeze my wrist tight when, uh, I 'feel' lies. Contradictions."

He then huffed; shook his head. "Honestly, I don't get it myself."

"...I see," Klavier said. Though he didn't really 'see', and he wasn't sure where this was going either. "But I wouldn't, ah, concern yourself too much."

"No, no...and I don't ever, you know, 'use' the bracelet with people I know. It's just...so you're aware."

Klavier leaned back a bit in his seat, mouth pressed into a tight smile. "Ja, but in any case I wouldn't wish to trouble you, Herr—"

"Apollo is fine."

"—Justice," Klavier finished.

Apollo raised his eyebrows. "Not 'Herr Forehead'?"

"I want to address you respectfully," he replied, and tugged at his fringe. "As— as a friend would."

"You consider me a friend?"

Klavier nodded. Apollo cleared his throat. "...But suppose, Mr—"

"Klavier, please."

"—Gavin."

"Suppose— Klavier, that I do want to listen?"

He frowned again. "And why would you want that?"

"Because it's what friends do," Apollo stated, inflection hanging off the end of his sentence.

Klavier swallowed; opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn't quite know where to begin.

So there wasn't much else to be said after that. Apollo got up, and cleaned up for them; for him. Klavier didn't protest much. Instead he just stood awkwardly in a corner of the kitchen while Apollo did his dishes. They exchanged the occasional glance; a comment or two, before the silence would claim them both. Apollo even put the leftovers in his tupperware: "...So you have something to, uh, eat," he said, red in the face.

Then he grabbed his belongings, along with the tied trash bags he'd volunteered to take out.

"You've...got my number, if you need anything," he said when Klavier escorted him to the door. Vongole hadn't joined them to bark his goodbyes, fast asleep where they'd left him.

"I'll remember that."

Apollo nodded, stepping back outside into the cool night air. "Ok, so, I'll...see you later, Klavier."

"You too," he replied with a smile; and he meant it this time. Then he watched as Apollo turned, and made his way down the driveway.

Just as he'd turned the corner, Klavier called out, "And Apollo?"

"Yeah?" he shouted back, voice strong against the light breeze.

Klavier's smile grew wider, chest rising as he waved to him. "...Danke!"

Apollo bowed his head. Against the streetlights it was hard to make out the expression on his face, but judging by the spring in his step afterwards...Well.

Somehow Klavier slept better that night than he had in a long time.