And now for my latest rant!

Why Macs Are Way Better Than PCs
~They're faster
~They're prettier
~They don't claim you updated your fanfic site four times over one chapter when it really never went through.

So, enjoy this delayed chapter of Envious, Fop? Get ready for a bit of mystery, and a familiar face...

Prosecutors never cried. Rock stars never cried. Rock star prosecutors never cried. Hell, guys never –or rather, they shouldn't most of the time– cry. But that's what Klavier felt like doing, and he was extremely close to proceeding, as he sat on the cold bench in the park.

As he exited the restaurant, Ervin struggling to stay on his shoulders, he spotted the park across the street. Great, a place to cool off and where Ervin can play, he thought, sighing with relief. It's also a good place to check on the restaurant… He looked both ways, and then quickly jaywalked towards the park. The park was near empty, with only a few families out enjoying the day. Ervin squealed in delight, noticing the playground equipment was in the shape of fruits.

"Can I go play, Uncle? Can I, can I?"

Klavier managed a breathless laugh, and gently hoisted the small boy off his shoulders. Ervin examined the playground for a moment, deciding on a toy to play with first, and then ran off towards the apple-shaped slide. He paused. "Can you play with me?" he asked Klavier, his blue eyes wide.

"Um…" Usually, Klavier gladly accepted this task. It was bonding time with his favorite –and only– nephew and he got to run around and enjoy the day. "Maybe later. I'll…I'm going to sit right on that orange-bench over there, so I'll watch you for now. Maybe when your mother comes, okay?" Ervin understood, nodding once before sprinting off to get a turn on the apple slide.

Klavier sat on one of the circular benches, the only other man there a crabby old fellow who was throwing pigeon feed at the birds with rigor force. Actually, it looked as if he was attempting to injure the pigeons, not feed them. The man caught him staring, and threw a fistful towards his face, which Klavier skillfully dodged. He was used to stuff being thrown at him between the eyes; Ema threw her Snackoos at him on a daily basis.

Kianna was just leaving the restaurant now, her face troubled. She immediately spotted them and, without even looking at traffic, walked across the streets. And the strangest part of this was that during the time she walked, not one car drove past. It was as if they were afraid to go.

"Klavier," she said, plopping down on the bench next to him, "Please warn me the next time you decide to run off with my son when you did not even pay the check, or tell me where you were going." She adjusted the belt on her expensive trench, brushing strands invisible lint off her shoulder.

Klavier flushed slightly. "I'm sorry, Kianna. It's just that…seeing her with him…it threw me off for the moment and I acted without thinking."

She exhaled, pulling out a piece of gum and popping it into her mouth. "Well," she said slowly, "if I caught Hassan with another woman while I was away on a project, I would be upset as well." Hassan Ziemlich, Kianna's husband, was not an agent like her, but a powerful man who stole real estate all over Europe. Because of his choice of job and Kianna's work, Ervin had quite a large collage fund and, if they wanted to, Kianna and Hassan could retire in a little more than two years. "But, Vetter, how do you know if Fräulein Ema and that young man are together?"

Klavier's hands clenched into fists, and he struggled for words. "It's this sensation…I cannot describe it, Kianna. It's as if…I know what's going on…This…anger inside of me that…that just wants to rush over me and run over to them, break them up and throw them down, yell at Fräulein Ema for lying and betraying me…" He massaged the bridge of his nose, his bangs hiding his eyes for a moment. "Am I a bad person, Kianna, for thinking these things about Meine Liebe?"

"Of course not!" Kianna and Klavier looked up, and saw that the crabby old man had been eavesdropping into their conversation.

Kianna smiled politely. "What do you mean, Mister…?"

"Kudo, Victor Kudo," he replied briskly, not even looking at her, "And what I mean is that you're not a bad person for feeling jealous of your young lady's relationship with another man!"

"Wait, what?!" Klavier exclaimed. "Did you say I'm…jealous?"

"Yes, jealous," Victor replied hotly. "An anger inside of you that wants you to break up their little party, an anger that wants you to yell about betrayal and lying and whatever else? Sounds like jealousy to me." He threw a large handful of seeds into his mouth, munching loudly as he glared.

"And I suppose you're an expert at jealousy?!"

His face softened for a moment, and the older man sobered, rubbing his large red nose with the palm of his hand nervously. "As a matter of fact, I am. My ex-girlfriend from my prime, Laufei, and I used to be inseparable. But then…I caught her having a lunch date with my brother; my own brother! I yelled and screamed, arguing with her until she finally caved. My Laufei was a wedding designer, and my brother had been planning to propose to his lady friend. Not only was my relationship with Laufei dented, but I had also told my brother's future fiancé, so when he asked, she said no…"

Kianna dabbed the corner of her eyes. "You poor man," she sighed, patting Victor's hand with her own pale one.

His eyes flickered at her touch, but he shrugged. "Well, you can't have everything." He dug into his brown paper bag, throwing the last of the bird feed towards the pigeons. They pecked at them quickly before flying off towards a small girl giving out the crusts of her sandwich.

"And that's the truth," muttered Klavier as he glanced again towards the restaurant.

"God's honest truth," added Victor as he crumbled the bag and threw it in the garbage can. And for a moment, the group was silent. The sounds of the children playing suddenly reminded Kianna of her own child, and she looked up to see Ervin about to tip off edge of the strawberry jungle gym. Cursing under her breath, she fluidly rose and ran to catch her son before he landed headfirst into the dirt.

With a sudden slam, the door of the restaurant opened, and Ema and her mysterious suitor exited the building. Ema was chatting animatingly towards the man, who hooked arms with her as they headed towards the parking lot. His fingers slipped off the edge of Ema's coat, onto her backside, and she jumped, slapping him away before flouncing away. Klavier silently hoped the slap and the rejection hurt, because he knew it hurt him whenever Ema pushed him away.

But the man caught up with Ema, whispered something into her ear, and she listened for a moment. A smile crept onto her lips, and she grabbed the collar of his shirt and began yanking him towards a shiny Convertible parked in the shade. As they marched –rather Ema marched, the man was being dragged– they bumped into a busboy, who apologized but was ignored as the couple slipped into the car.

Suddenly, an idea came to Klavier. He hopped up from his seat, and started towards the restaurant. Victor Kudo watched him, fascinated but annoyed. "What…Where are you going?" he sputtered.

"To find out who this man is," Klavier retorted as he sprinted across the street.

The back alley behind the restaurant smelled of leftovers and cat urine, and Klavier sucked in a deep breath before walking deeper into the tight space. A pile of discarded restaurant uniforms were stacked clumsily across a large crate, and Klavier carefully pawed through them. The first few were filthy, but the ones at the bottom were decent. Hiding behind the dumpster, he changed quickly out of his clean rock-star shirt and into the slightly damp busboy uniform, complete with shirt and apron. He reluctantly undid his tidy braid of hair and redid it into a lazy ponytail. And, using a broken mirror as his guide, Klavier smudged a mix of flour and dirt onto his face, making his complexion seem pale and muggy.

After hiding his clothing in a pile of rags, he pulled open the door of the restaurant and stepped into the horrid smelling kitchen. The obese chefs looked at him, and then returned to their work. Klavier had no idea that his perfect meal, served on clean white plates, came from the grease-stained, yellowing kitchen that surrounded him. When the chefs weren't looking, he snatched a roll of plastic wrap off the counter and turned towards the door.

A tubby man with a plastic name tag suddenly rammed into him, and grunted, before lifting his head and meeting the prosecutors face. For a second, Klavier feared that he had been recognized. But the man's face was instantly full of spite. "What the hell are you doing here?!" he screamed. "You're supposed to be outside, cleaning up tables five and seven! Don't make me fire you!" And with the last words of anger, the man pushed Klavier into the dining room.

The diners looked up and, after seeing that it was only a dirty busboy, resumed conversation and their food. Klavier felt out of place, but he grabbed a plastic container from the side of the door and headed towards one of the tables. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Ema's corner table had not yet been cleared. He walked with a purpose towards it, and began pulling off plates. He looked down at the receipt, reading the name off it.

Natal Ingrid? What kind of name is that?! Klavier furrowed his brow with confusion and then, looking at the diners with one eye, he stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket. After piling the dishes into basin, he headed towards the kitchen to drop off the dishes when he spotted an item that could help him. Lying in the employee section of the restaurant was a woman's black purse. Biting his lip, for he didn't want to invade this woman's privacy, Klavier dug around until he found a small makeup compact.

Klavier returned to the table, and gingerly picked up a glass with a napkin. He opened the compact, dabbed the powder a few times with the edge of makeup applier, and then pressed the powder along the glass. He had learned the old trick accidentally from his brother, but now he thanked Kristoph –wherever he was– for teaching it to him. After a few careful dabs, he noticed several fingerprints revealing themselves. Klavier reached into his pocket and pulled out the plastic wrap. Ripping a medium-sized square out, he wrapped the glass in it for a moment, made sure that the fingerprints stayed, and then removed it. He placed the best ones onto the back of the receipt, and then finished with the clearing of the table.

Walking back into the kitchen, he rubbed off the makeshift fingerprint powder from the glass and placed the plastic wrap back onto the chef's table. One of the chubby lady chefs gave him a look, but continued with her sampling of one of the other chef's soups. Klavier walked over to the near full garbage can, and began to head outside when he heard a young waitress cry out.

"Has anyone seen my compact? It was a brand new one and it…" Her voice trailed off as she began to bother a coworker about it.

Klavier swiftly left the building, dropping the garbage bag into the dumpster. He went back to the pile of rags for his clothes, and nearly screamed. The pile of rags had apparently been a homeless man, who had compassionately left his cell phone and clothing, but had taken all of his money out of his wallet. Luckily, the keys to his hog were still there, which was a big relief, but Klavier was still upset. There had been at least five hundred dollars in his wallet; Kianna always called Klavier a show off when it came to his imported German wallet with the French designs along the edges.

After changing back into his old clothing and wiping his face clean of dirt with the edge of the busboy apron, Klavier tucked his evidence into his jacket pocket and checked his phone to find a message for Kianna. He winced as he read…

Klavier Gavin, I cannot believe you. You left us to go to whatever you pleased, and now my little Ervin is crushed. Do you have any idea how much spending the day with you meant? I ought to track you down and…

The rest of the message was dozens of threats, some in English, and some in German. Klavier had learned when he grew up with Kianna that she had everlasting patience, but it would quickly diminish if you attacked the very things she strongly believed in. And one of those things was her family. But, by the end of the message, she had cooled off…

I guess, wherever you went, it was for some sort of important reason. Please do not let it be about Ema. Remember Victor Kudo, Klavier. I hope you are free for dinner tomorrow; Hassan is flying down from a business meeting in Canada, and Jenni will also be there. We'll be waiting at Jenni's house. Ich liebe Sie. ~Kianna

Klavier sighed. He hated letting Kianna or Ervin down, but this was for an important cause. Dinner with the family would definitely calm him, but that meant he would have to invite Ema to dinner as well. Jenni would be eager to see her again, and Ervin could probably not wait to meet the girl who Klavier loved –or had loved.

As he walked towards his motorcycle, Klavier thought of people who could identify the fingerprints and name for him. He considered asking Kianna, but then she would probably get angry with him and, if he got her really mad, she might even attack him. Klavier didn't want to battle a German secret service agent, so he crossed her out in his mind. Ema was defiantly a no; she'd lash out at him as well.

So who was left?

Suddenly, a face appeared in Klavier's mind. He smiled. She would help him; she was that kind of person.

And with that thought in his mind, Klavier drove off.

But little did Klavier Gavin know that a shadow watched him from the distant. The shadow frowned, scribbled something onto a blank sheet of a notebook, and then walked away. As the figure walked, the white trench coat it wore swirled around its feet. The shadow flipped its shades off, and sighed before flipping open a small phone.

"It is complete."

"Good," the soft voice on the other end answered. "That's just what we want him to do."

"He won't get hurt, will he?"

"Don't worry, my dear. He's safe. Perfectly safe…"

Yay, all done sweeties!

Who do you think is going to help Klavier find out more on Natal Ingrid? Have any hunches on who this mysterious figure might be?

By the way, I don't own the "And that's the truth" lines. I took it from my school production of The Wiz, which was absolutly fabulous! :P

Review, if you please! Flames will be used to bake cakes for me to eat! (LOL, I didn't make that up FYI! XD)