Actual Prompt :

(Anonymous) 2009-12-16 05:17 pm UTC

There's a lot of talk (and fic-writing) to the effect that Klavier was far too unconcerned about his buddy and his brother being criminals. Most of it involves showing how concerned he really was.

Well, I want to see him being completely unaffected, not because justice was done and he's fine with it, but because in his own (much less violent) way he's just as creepy as his brother. He's totally hollow inside. He just doesn't care. Maybe he doesn't even get why people expect him to.

Maybe someone tries to pursue a romance or closer friendship with him, only to find to their horror that there's no there there? Maybe someone who has to work with him (Emaaaaaa) is appalled at his non-response to yet another horrible crime? (Actually, this is probably the real reason she can't stand him.) Maybe, I don't know, something else? I'm just looking for some creepy Stepford-Smiler!Klavier, in whatever form he may take.

A/N : This obviously contains an OOC Klavier, since that was basically what was requested. An evil, Kristoph-like Klavier, yeah. Was fun to write. xD

Plastic Soul

Kristoph Gavin is imprisoned, and many people care about it. There are people who had known him, those are greatly griefed. Confronted by reporters, those have few words to say about the man who had left the courtroom in the end. They prefer to enshrine the man in their little fantasy world, where Kristoph Gavin was kind, is kind, and will never be anything but kind. A few step forth, and these are verbal in their defense – and they do a far more adequate job than Justice ever did in defending his mentor.

Then there are those who say a lot, and who have many things to say to the reporters. What a poor, sad man, they lament. They shake their head, and they offer a very sad, very sentimental smile. These never knew Kristoph Gavin at all, and they had to consult their secretary before being able to recite this : It's such a poor, sad thing that such a thing happened to him. Never imagined, of course. He was a capital sort of chap, a one-up sort of man. Good for golf at weekends, and if he doesn't play, at least he makes for amusing conversation. Amidst all of this, some comments stand out, united in who they affront – Klavier Gavin.

The brother of Kristoph Gavin had said nothing. 'No comment' is not a new term, we've all heard it before. 'No comment' however, seems to extend in the man far more than just words. Like a tentacle, it's wrapped itself around the man and shrouded him in eluding slime. No matter how many journalist trail after him, their nose twitching like a bloodhound's, there's never anything to find. Not even Spark Brushel can dish out the dirt on him.

There are no breakdowns, no tears. No confidants. No anger, no drinking, no drugs. Not even a casually sad word for his brother.

It's as if there's nothing there to be found at all.

The reporters, they are not to be daunted.

As one journalist had put it : "It's impossible he doesn't feel anything. Daryan Crescend had just been incarcerated, and now it's his brother's turn. First his best friend since high school, and now his lifelong sibling. Surely something in there must stir?"

But if there is something that stirs, that something did not stir well. No one sees anything. No one hears anything. They seek a fire, they look for smoke – but how can you find something that is not there? The wood had been provided, dried and mattered to suit his arsonist's need. A match has been provided. But Klavier Gavin does not ignite.

On the day of the trial, Klavier went home. He got himself a vodka from his little bar, secluded in a corner in his living room. He puts it to half a glass, because anymore and he might be too intoxicated to work. He drinks it, and then he goes back to work – work, yes, even though no one expected him to show up anywhere within a hundred miles of the prosecutor's office. Klavier goes to his office, so flashy, with his black and maroon streaked carpets.

He throws open the window, places the glass on the table, and takes in the night air. He sings. There is a song in the air that he likes, the gentle breeze that caresses his face. He wonders.

No, it is not whether if his brother really did do it. It doesn't really matter. Oh goodness no – that's been established, hasn't it? The compass of truth had pointed towards him earlier that day, and there's nothing left to be argued anymore. Kristoph Gavin is guilty, and guilty he will remain.

No, what Klavier wonders, if the money goes to him. Kristoph's money that is. It's not that Klavier wants it, or if he even needed it, but this is the sort of thing that you go through logically. First, there is – when does he go? When will he be executed? Klavier will need to make way on his schedule on that day of course. His brother had been many things, but rude had never been one of them. Klavier must repay that favour.

He needs to feed the press' hounds too. Surely the kind and gentlemanly Klavier Gavin will not leave his brother on the scaffold, to die alone? But that would be simply cruel!

And if he cannot make it? Then he will send a very nice letter saying he approves of it.

Then there is the money. That Klavier couldn't care less about. Probably goes to him, or perhaps to some charity for cannibalism. If it goes to Klavier, Klavier will just send it off to Apollo Justice. It would serve more purpose there than here. And those momentos they always hand you in a box when someone dies? That can go there too. Klavier has limited space inside his office, and it's not for sentimental junk. He doesn't want to see things like photos of the two of them when they were eight or whatever.

That's just, to quote Daryan Crescend : Lame.

Klavier stirs the drink with a puzzled frown.

He doesn't get it. Why do people insist on patting his back? If every pat he's gotten is accumulated, his back would have broken by now. No. That smile? It is not plastic by choice. It is plastic by birth. Kristoph Gavin is going. This is neither good news nor bad news – it's just news. Would you care dearly if someone across the globe is dying at the moment you read this? Would you weep pearly tears of sorrow at the thought of the death of another being, whom you do not know, and do not wish to know?

No, he doesn't think so.

Klavier stirs the drink again.

He should get Kristoph a nice coffin, really. It's the least he can do for the man. He is his brother. Surely that merits something? Yes, it does actually. It merits a very nice coffin, perhaps he'll even get a beautiful Gavinner styled one sponsored.

He puts down the glass, and jots down a note to himself.

Oh yes, and don't forget. One for Daryan too. He chuckled.

Lessee if he can get someone to sponsor the coffins too, mm? Then he'll save a couple of bucks for a pair of new earrings.