"Have you forgotten, Phoenix Wright, that I absolutely loathe this restaurant?"
Can't blame her, thought Phoenix as he thumbed through the ridiculously floral menu. The last time we were here was right after the Hazakura Temple incident, when we all celebrated my victory. I doubt it's been long enough for her to forget how horrible the food is. Yet Franziska had let him bring her back to Trés Bien nonetheless, reluctant as she was at first. And he was glad for it. It was the only place that the others would have never expected him to come back to, much less accompanied by Franziska von Karma. It meant that they wouldn't get caught red-handed.
Unfortunately, the prices, as he was well aware, were nothing to sneeze at. It's only once in a while, he had reassured himself. I'm sure my salary can handle it. And I don't she'd appreciate it if I took her to our local burger joint….
Phoenix peeked over the top of his menu at the woman sitting across from him. She furrowed her brows as she browsed her menu's contents. He could tell that she was trying her hardest to look irritated as possible, and smiled. It's so cute when she's trying to look all angry.
"Phoenix Wright, do you intend to pay for this meal?" She asked suddenly, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Mm? Uh, yeah. Order whatever you like, though."
"The prices are atrocious. They seem to have inflated since we were last here."
"Yeah, I guess so." Absent-mindedly, he peered at the Quadruple Delight Lunch Set Fantastique at the bottom right corner of his menu and gaped.
Seventy-five dollars and change.
Per person.
Franziska must have noticed his startled expression; she smiled thinly in amusement. "Not to worry; I'm not very hungry. I think I'll just have a small appetizer."
"S-sure…" He gulped, then frowned in embarrassment. Nice going Phoenix. Way to show her how competent you are.
"BONJOUR, MES CHERIS!"
A pungent odor of roses and deodorant suddenly filled Phoenix's nostrils. He looked to his left to see a massive apron-covered belly. His gaze wandered up to discover that the belly belonged to none other than Jean Armstrong: self-proclaimed aroma therapist and frequent disgracer of French cuisine.
"It 'as been a long time, monsieur lawyer, n'est-ce pas?"
"Nice to see you again, Mr. Armstrong." Phoenix cracked a smile despite the overwhelming perfume and…unpleasant memories of the chef.
"Oh la la! I see you 'ave brought une belle copine with you today!"
Phoenix slouched, partially hiding his face behind his tall menu. "You met Ms. Von Karma the last time we were here, didn't you?" He blushed for no reason.
"Ah, oui oui, but z'at vas not like z'is, with z'e two of you alone!" Armstrong cupped his hands to his cheek and smiled eagerly, eyes sparkling wildly.
Phoenix groaned. "Um, yeah. Anyway, Franziska, are you ready to order?" He looked at her expectantly, desperate to get Armstrong to stop ogling him like that.
"I am, as a matter of fact." She was still smiling smugly at Phoenix. I don't know what the heck she finds so amusing about seeing me being tormented, he thought. "I will have the scallop salad, with vinaigrette on the side, please."
"I'll just have the soup and breadsticks, thanks," Phoenix declared. Before handing his menu to Armstrong, Phoenix stole a glance at the price listing for the scallop salad. It was under eleven dollars, surprisingly. He couldn't help quietly sighing in relief at Franziska's parsimonious selection.
"Merҫi beaucoup," Armstrong bowed. "I will be back with z'e food in un instant!"
As Armstrong waltzed back to the kitchen, Franziska let out a little chuckle. Phoenix turned to stare at her, dumbfounded. "What is it?"
"You, Phoenix Wright." She rested her elbows on the table daintily.
"Me? What's so funny about me?"
"Even a fool can see that you're trying your hardest to impress me, considering the choice and atmosphere of this restaurant. Yet you allow yourself to be completely overtaken by that feminine chef." Her smile stretched even wider. "I just find that humorous."
Phoenix rubbed his nose, face flushing bright red. "W-well…" How do I respond to something like that?
"Don't think too much of it. To be honest…your insecurity…" Her eyes softened just slightly. "…it's very…charming."
He froze. Several seconds passed before her words finally sank into his brain. "You…think it's…huh?" He blinked.
"Charming, Phoenix Wright. I said you were charming."
"…"
By now his face was the color of a ripe cherry. He regretted no longer having the menu in front of him to fiddle with. He settled for twiddling his thumbs on the table.
No more words were exchanged during the awkward minutes between then and Armstrong's return. When at last he arrived at the side of their table, he was carrying an intricate silver tray with two dishes balanced on top.
"Bon appetite!" He said, predictably, before he went back to the kitchen.
Phoenix couldn't help but tremble with worry as he raised his first spoonful of soup to his lips. When he slurped a bit, however, he was thoroughly shocked to discover that it didn't taste nearly as disgusting as he'd thought it would. In fact, it was quite edible. He looked at Franziska. She seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he; she was happily dipping small forkfuls of salad into her miniature cup of dressing, eating as if it were any normal salad, despite the slightly shocked expression on her face.
"Do you, um, like it?" Phoenix asked hesitantly.
She swallowed. "I must admit; the food has improved significantly from the monstrosity that I ate the last time we went here." She paused, seeming to have just realized what she just said. "But…it's certainly not one of the best salads I've had in my lifetime." She furrowed her brow again, putting her fork down defiantly and dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
He smirked and let out a small chuckle. This time, it was Phoenix's turn to tease. "Can't you just say that you like it? Why do you have to deny your feelings all the time?"
They truly had switched roles: it took only a second for Franziska's cheeks to turn a lovely shade of crimson. "I…am not denying anything, Phoenix Wright. I am simply stating what I wish to state."
"Same difference." She opened her mouth to object but he cut in before she could. "It's all right, though," he smirked, intentionally echoing her previous statements. "To tell you the truth, the way you don't allow your feelings to get in the way of your sense of pride; I find it kind of…cute."
How she managed to unlatch her whip from her waist and strike him from across the table without disturbing their plates was beyond him. As he sat and stared, gingerly rubbing his swollen cheek, she folded her arms and leaned back, looking extremely displeased.
"Wh-what the heck was that for!?" He sputtered, his voice slightly lisp thanks to his puffy left cheek.
"I don't like hearing that word," she explained simply. "Much less when it is being used to describe me."
But that's exactly like what you just said to me! He wanted to yell back, but then he sighed. "All right, all right." He turned his gaze downward, pursing his lips slightly, and swirled his spoon in his bowl of soup. Honestly, you'd think I would have learned by now. Compliments will get me nowhere with her. The pair ate in silence for the remainder of the meal. But it wasn't too bad; Phoenix had to admit, despite the sharp stinging sensation in his cheek, this was definitely one of his more successful dates. At least she hadn't stormed out of the restaurant yet.
Later, when they walked out to the small (and empty) parking lot, Franziska turned to him and spoke at last.
"I want you to take me somewhere to eat out again." She declared simply. "Sometime next week."
Phoenix grinned stupidly. "All righty."
"You didn't let me finish. I want you to take me out again, but not to this restaurant, do you hear me?"
He tilted his head and blinked. "Why not?"
After a short silence, she suddenly looked to the side, face honestly troubled and arms crossed uncomfortably.
"I thought about it some more when we were eating." Her voice was tentative, almost fearful.
"That chef…I…I think he might like you."
It took the entire evening for Phoenix to convince Franziska that he was straight.
Apologies for the random-as-heck ending. 8D
