Prom arrived faster than expected, as per the course for anything Apollo dreaded. He fought off the urge to ghost as he rummaged through his closet, looking for an appropriate suit. Apollo's hands lingered on black satin suit jacket and he bit his lip, remembering how Mr. Gavin bought it for him years ago when he was first starting out as a lawyer and had trouble affording decent clothing.

But now, things were different. He wasn't an awkward kid hanging around Gavin and Co. Law Offices with lofty dreams of becoming a lawyer anymore. Now, he was an established professional who could, and did, buy his own suits.

Rare confidence sparked within him. And he pulled one of them from the closet to button up, Apollo couldn't help but feel as though he just chose a suit of armor in preparation for battle.

This feeling intensified when he rang the Wrights' doorbell, tugging at the collar of his stiff black suit with one hand and holding a bouquet of roses in the other. Trucy's last words played in Apollo's head:

"It was a long battle, but I prevailed! He said you could take me, Polly!"

Apollo gulped.

Within seconds, the door opened. Phoenix looked about as thrilled as Apollo expected, the scars from the "battle" clearly taking their course. He eyed Apollo up and down, tired and wary, then stepped to the side to let Apollo in.

It suddenly dawned on Apollo that in the years of knowing the Wright's, he never actually visited their house. The interior was cluttered in a similar manner to the Wright Anything Agency, and Apollo couldn't stop a smile tugging on his lips as he looked at the various children's drawings and crafts hanging up on the walls, a makeshift museum of Trucy Wright's love for her adoptive father. His smile faded as Phoenix's eyes continued to drill holes into Apollo's head.

"Uh, hi." Please don't kill me... "Trucy already told you I was coming, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Phoenix said after a pause. "I don't see why she had such a sudden change in heart, though. Last I heard, she was dead set against going to this thing."

"Well, Trucy's pretty…spontaneous. A change of heart shouldn't be that surprising."

Phoenix made a noncommittal grunt, then gestured in the direction of Apollo's bouquet. "What are the flowers for?"

Seriously? "I mean, it's Prom. I figured since I was standing in as her date, I might as well act the part."

There was another long pause as Apollo shifted uncomfortably. Phoenix finally broke the silence, sighing as he massaged his temples with his fingers. "Apollo, listen…I spoke to Trucy about this, and she insisted you were just going as friends. But as her father, I gotta ask—"

"It's completely platonic, Mr. Wright," Apollo was quick to assure him. "Honestly, I don't even want to do this. But this means a lot to Trucy, so…" He shrugged. "And you know how she is. She's got no interest in guys….or girls…or anyone."

"Right, but she's still young and figuring herself out. If things change, I don't want to see her get hurt."

Apollo bristled in spite of himself. "Age aside, I didn't think I was that bad," he said with forced lightness.

A flicker of guilt crossed Phoenix's features. "You're not. It's nothing personal, it's just…" He trailed off, diverting eye contact. "Well, a relationship between the two of you won't end well, and I don't want either of you put in that position."

Okaaaay. Cryptic much?

After a brief moment of hesitation, Apollo decided to ignore the comment and switch gears. "It won't. Besides, I already like someone else."

He normally wouldn't offer up that information, but it served the desired effect. Phoenix's face lightened with interest as he rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Is it Athena?"

"No."

"Ema?"

"No."

"Is it—"

"It's Miles Edgeworth, actually." Apollo laughed at Phoenix's expression. "Kidding, kidding."

"I hope so," Phoenix teased, winking. Unlike Apollo and Klavier, he and Edgeworth had no qualms about being public with their relationship.

Envy nipped at the edges of Apollo's mind. "Seriously though, you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Wright. I'll make sure she doesn't go to any afterparties or anything like that. "

Phoenix nodded slowly. "Good, that's what I want to hear." He turned towards the staircase and cupped his hands. "Trucy, you can come down now! He's here!"

"Coming, Daddy!" The distant shuffling and footsteps was heard as Trucy finally emerged at the top of the stairs.

Given her usual theatrics, Apollo expected her to go all-out, and she didn't disappoint. The blue sequined dress and eyeshadow made her look less like a magician and more of a princess, a feeling magnified by the silver jewelry adorning her neck, wrists, and ears. And for the first time, her hair laid loose on her shoulders instead of held back in a ponytail.

"Trucy, you look great," Apollo said honestly.

"You think so?" she giggled. "Well, thanks, Polly. You look pretty sharp yourself."

Phoenix coughed, taking out a camera from his sweatshirt pocket. "You don't mind if I take a couple pictures, do you?"

"Of course not, Daddy, I just—wait. Apollo, are those flowers for me?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling a mix of dread and satisfaction as her eyes lit with glee.

"Oh my god, you really are taking this seriously. Did you get a limo, too?"

"Wh—no! Of course not."

Phoenix tsked. "For shame, Apollo. For shame."

After putting the flowers in a nearby vase, Phoenix began taking the photos as promised. Apparently, the meaning of "a couple" was very different between Apollo and the Wright family.

Phoenix took various pictures of Trucy for what seemed like hours, some with Apollo, but a lot more without him. He wondered if he should tell Phoenix to wrap it up, but the intense look of concentration on Mr. Wright's face told him otherwise.

"Well, I guess that's as many as we can take," lamented Phoenix, looking at his camera with a frown. "I could have sworn I put more film in…"

"That's alright, Daddy. We don't want to be too fashionably late, after all."

Phoenix laughed as Apollo wondered how he got into this mess in the first place. "Don't try anything too dangerous, Truce. And Apollo…"

The man in question gulped. "Yes?"

"Remember what I said before. Now, you two go out and have a fun time. A nice, innocent fun time.."

"Will do, Mr. Wright."

Trucy gave Phoenix a quick hug. "Bye, Daddy! Try not to get too lonely without me!"

Apollo hurried out the door, feeling Phoenix's eyes burning into his back like a pair of lasers. He opened the door of his car to let Trucy in first before he took his seat behind the wheel. Refusing to look at the Wrights' house, Apollo didn't speak until he passed a corner, where he let out a small sigh. Trucy grinned.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it, Polly?"

"Could it have been worse? Yes. Could it have been better? Also, yes."

"You know," she said thoughtfully, drumming her fingers along the leather seat, "if you told him you were gay, he'd probably feel a lot better about all this."

"Probably. But that's not his call to make."

"True…"

There was a lull of silence, which Apollo felt compelled to break. "And why are you so convinced I'm gay, hmm? Maybe I'm bisexual."

Trucy snorted. "Remember when we went to the beach last year? Athena was wearing that tiny yellow bikini her jugs barely fit in, and you didn't even blink."

"Maybe I'm just not into redheads," he shrugged. At her skeptical expression, he finally cracked the grin he was holding back. "Alright, fine. I'm gay. Happy?"

"Yes."

A muffled buzz caused Trucy to rummage through her purse, pulling out a blue cell phone. "Ophelia just texted me. She said she's waiting in the front of the hotel, and is really excited to meet you." She punched him in the shoulder playfully. "See, Polly? You're becoming popular already!"

Apollo swallowed, unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

For better or for worse, they arrived at the Gatewater Hotel without incident. The parking lot was packed and Apollo had to park two blocks away, something he grumbled about for half the walk.

I guess there's still a chance I can get hit by a rogue car on my way there. Maybe.

"There she is," whispered Trucy, pointing near the entrance.

Apollo followed her finger and blinked in surprise. The infamous Ophelia wore a black ruffled dress down to the knee, with combat boots and dark makeup. She somehow managed to scroll through her phone despite the excessively-long painted nails, and when she glanced up, she greeted the pair not with a smile, but with a smirk.

"Well, well, well," she drawled. "You actually managed to convince a grown-ass man who isn't a pedophile to participate in a high school function. Congratulations, Trucy."

"It would be ephebophile, actually," piped Trucy. "And thanks!"

Apollo stood rigid as Ophelia assessed him carefully. He could practically see the gears spinning as she said, "Soooo….why'd you agree to come? You're too old—no offense—to feel that intrinsic need for social compliance."

Oh, a 'nonconformist.' Wonderful.

He cringed, remembering his own short-lived 'stick it to the man' phase in high school. "Trucy asked me to, and I owed her one."

Ophelia paused then nodded, as if satisfied. Trucy clasped her hands together. "Formal introduction time! Ophelia, this is Apollo Justice, sometimes-lawyer and full-time assistant. Apollo, this is Ophelia Payne, full-time BFF and part-time Trés Bien employee."

"Hi."

"Ophelia…Payne?" he echoed, shaking her hand. "Are you, uh, related to Winston Payne, the lawyer?"

"Sadly," she replied, but didn't elaborate. "'C'mon. The others are waiting at our table."

Apollo glanced quizzically at Trucy, who shrugged. They followed Ophelia inside and signed in, Apollo trying not to look as overwhelmed and awkward as he felt. The dark red carpet and gold décor burned his eyes as they made their way up the spiraling staircase.

"I didn't realize how high-class this place was," murmured Apollo. "I feel bad for all the guests trying to get some sleep."

"It shouldn't be too bad, Polly. Seniors are only allowed on the ground floor and the floor with the ballroom where they hold catering events."

"No fucking way it's an actual ballroom."

"Well, it's this big floor where people are supposed to dance. I don't know what else to call it."

"Apollo, you don't need to feel sorry for any of the people here," sniffed Ophelia. "The owner of the Gatewater Hotel chain is a major donor to Paul Atishon. If they're paying money to stay at this hotel, they're basically complicit to corruption and bribery and deserve any misfortune they get."

Apollo was tempted to remind Ophelia that she spent money to come here, but bit his tongue. The thought faded out of his mind completely once he reached the 'ballroom.' There were well over a hundred students, several of them dancing in the center of the room, which made Apollo cringe as he remembered—yet again—how out of place he was. Balloons and streamers adorned the walls, and a giant "CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 2028!" banner hung above the musical performers.

It was the latter that caused Apollo to freeze. Upon entering, he assumed it was a cover band playing one of the Gavinners' screechier songs. But now he could see he was wrong, very wrong.

Somehow, someway, the school managed to get the real deal.

Oh no.

Even across the room, and even underneath those oh-so-familiar sunglasses, Apollo could make out the wink and could practically hear Klavier's voice purring in his ear.

'Oh yes.'

"What are they doing here?" choked Apollo.

"Their band imploded after their second guitarist killed a guy," shrugged Ophelia. "Prom gigs are probably the best they can do now."

"Hey!" Trucy put her hands on her hips, and Apollo felt the urge to do the same. No one could insult the Gavinners but him, damn it.

"What? I'm just being honest. Why else would they perform for a school after making it big?"

"I told you," huffed Trucy, "Mr. Gavin's doing this because I asked."

"Why did you ask, Trucy?" Apollo asked lightly, though there was a steel in his eyes that did not go ignored.

"I, um, I thought it would be cool," she squeaked.

"But why?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Dude, relax. She likes the band. It's not that deep."

But Apollo wasn't going to let this go easily. "Trucy, you know how I'd feel about this, and you still did it. Why?"

Trucy bit her lip and fiddled with her gloves. Ophelia folded her arms and stood between Trucy and Apollo. "If you hate the Gavinners this much, see a therapist about it or something. Jeez."

"I don't hate them. I just—"

"Oh!" Recognition flickered in Ophelia's eyes. "I forgot Klavier Gavin was your rival. Gotcha." She turned to her friend. "Yeah, Trucy. What were you thinking?"

Trucy shrunk down and took a tiny step back. "Umm…"

"Herr Forehead! It should be a crime to keep these beautiful ladies to yourself."

Trucy's demeanor changed like magic. She giggled as Klavier swaggered over like he was the Prom King. Dick. "Awww, thanks Mr. Gavin!"

He bowed in Ophelia's direction. "And this lovely fraulein, I haven't met yet. What is your name, sweet thing?"

"I'm Ophelia," she said bluntly. "I have a boyfriend, and I'm still seventeen—a July baby. Just FYI."

"Okay." Klavier blinked. "Uh, nice to meet you."

Apollo strained a smile that came out more like a grimace. "You girls can head to the table. I need a minute to talk to Mr. Gavin about court stuff."

"Court stuff," Ophelia echoed dryly. "Alrighty. Well, we'll be in that corner when you're done."

She pointed to a sparsely-populated table and headed over with Trucy. Apollo whipped his head back, face reddening at Klavier's innocent expression. "What the fuck is this?"

Klavier shrugged. "Trucy told me the school was having trouble finding a band, and asked if I could do it. I said yes."

"You knew I'd be here!"

"Obviously. But that's not the reason I came."

"But that's the reason why you didn't say anything," he concluded. "You knew I'd be pissed."

Klavier sighed. "I knew there was, perhaps, a slight chance you'd be upset at seeing your boyfriend in public."

"Shh!" His eyes darted around them, but all the students were wrapped up in their own conversations. When his gaze returned to Klavier, he felt a tug at seeing that impeccable mask return to Klavier's face once more. "It's not seeing you that's the problem. It's just—it's being here. Being in this place where I already feel awkward as fuck. Are you here to make me feel better, or—or are you just here to tease me about how stupid I look or—"

"What? No." Rare irritation and indignation broke through the mask. "Stop being paranoid. Not everyone's out to get you."

Apollo took a deep breath to center himself. Klavier teased him playfully a lot, but it never crossed into being mean-spirited. He knew that. But after being let down and betrayed by many people he trusted in the past he may—may—have developed some trust issues, which Klavier knew about.

Still, he couldn't keep the guilt out of his voice when he said, "Sorry, I know." Regardless, he huffed out, "You still should've told me."

"I should have," agreed Klavier, wincing. "But I was worried if I did you wouldn't go, and from what Trucy said…" He sighed. "She really wants us both to be here, for good reasons."

"Why?"

Klavier glanced back to his band and put his hands in his pockets. "…I know how this is going to sound, but I can't say. It's not my place."

Apollo's anger returned, but he didn't want this to become a bigger argument. "Okay then. Well, I better go to the table and sit through four more painful hours of this. See ya."

"Wait," Klavier said as Apollo turned. "I can't get into specifics, but there's something…happening here. Something bigger. That's why she wants both of us here."

Apollo froze. "You mean like"—he lowered his voice—"murder?"

"Wh-no. Not everything's about murder." He threw back his head and laughed, a melody far more appealing than any of the Gavinners' songs. "Herr Forehead, why does your mind automatically go to murder? Should I be worried?"

"I—I mean…" he sputtered and gestured vaguely. "That's what we do, right? Ever since I got my badge, a month hasn't gone by when I hadn't had to deal with death in some capacity. Honestly, at this point I'm tempted to pay someone to rob a bank just so I could defend them from something else for a change."

"Maybe I'll have Detective Skye arrest you for the crime of being too hot." He lowered his annoyingly-sexy shades and winked. "Especially in that suit. Seriously, I didn't realize you had such an eye for fashion. Where'd you get it?"

Apollo swallowed, knowing that mentioning Kristoph would completely kill the mood. "Just um, in the closet. Hadn't worn it in a while."

Klavier could tell he was lying, like always. He didn't press, but the ease from earlier dissipated. "It's a good look. But like I said, no murders today. At least, there shouldn't be."

"And you're still not going to tell me what's going on," Apollo said flatly.

Klavier rubbed the back of his neck and glanced over to Trucy's table. "Like I said, it's not my place…"

"Okay." He couldn't say he wasn't annoyed, but he wasn't as livid as he was earlier. "Well, I don't want Trucy to think I ditched her, even if it's sorely tempting. Be seeing you, I guess."

"After the prom?" he prodded, wagging his eyebrows.

Damn those eyes... "Yeah."

"My place or yours?"

"I don't know. It's not my place to say."

Apollo strutted off in a facade of confidence, though he couldn't shake the nervousness and trepidation bubbling inside.

What the hell was going on tonight?