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Apollo still struggles occasionally with the guilt of having expendable income, much less actually spending it. Growing up the way he did with Dhurke and Datz catching or growing all their meals, only ever getting "new" clothes when Nahyuta hit another growth spurt, and making up childhood games centered around rocks and sticks, he feels antsy when he realizes that he hasn't checked his bank account in several weeks. The fact that he doesn't need to check it should quell that feeling, but it usually just makes him even more uncomfortable.
Buying stuff for Trucy helps to deflate the bubble of anxiety somewhat, even though she can get whatever she wants these days just by smiling at Edgeworth. He feels guilty too, Apollo thinks, for not stepping into a parenting role ten years sooner.
Whatever the case, Trucy doesn't seem to mind reaping the benefits.
She's generous, too, which means that when she caught Edgeworth and Apollo arguing a few years back about who should get to buy her the newest game console, she'd simply cut in and said, "Well, if Polly buys one too, then I'll have somebody to do multiplayer stuff with!"
...All right, maybe the word is devious rather than generous. She's a perfect storm of her natural magician's slyness and Mr. Wright's charisma, and for latecomer brother and unofficial stepdad alike, she is a force to be reckoned with.
All this to say that Apollo has, over the past few years, agonized over his degree of ownership of the weird little console -- it lives in his house, but in his mind, it's really just Trucy's backup option. He's occasionally bought games he thought she would like and even more occasionally bought games he thought he would like. He even plays them on his own sometimes, following almost two years of Trucy teasing him about letting it collect dust.
His most recent purchase is somewhere in the middle. It's not like Trucy has any shortage these days of people to trade Pokémon with, but she always gives Apollo sibling priority. He usually plays just far enough to get her the things she needs, but he gets frustrated by the conflict between his desire to do optimal training and his inability to feel OK about putting large amounts of time into what is essentially a children's game.
This one, though, appeals to him in a way that the competition-focused titles don't. Maybe he does enough competitive battling in his real job, or something. Who knows.
The point is that running around an empty world and doing "observation and research" sounds relaxing. It's a little funny to him, because fieldwork and information gathering are his least favorite parts about being a lawyer.
"Maybe I should be a lawyer for Pokemon," he muses to Mikeko, who is entirely absorbed in watching his character throw pokéballs at the three starter creatures.
She gets bored not long after; casual walking and text boxes just aren't appealing to cats, he guesses.
He lets himself get lost in the tutorial, feeling a little silly about the entire premise but lulled into suspending his disdain by the generally peaceful vibe. He fights a trainer with a Togepi on the way out of town, and something about the interaction stays in the back of his mind.
It doesn't really click until the next time he meets Volo. The merchant, whose job it is to sell items and make money, has just given him valuable items for free. It's just like when--
"Ugh," he grouses loudly at Mikeko, now curled up precariously on one of his thigh. He's careful not to move that leg when he tosses his head against the back of the couch; she's not shy about digging in her nails to keep herself in place.
Volo is tall with long, blond hair and bright eyes. He seems to have a penchant for showing up and being helpful when he should be exploiting the main character's lack of knowledge and resources. He even fucking leans forward to talk to the main character.
"I can't avoid this guy," he gripes to the sleeping cat, and then he snorts and sends Klavier a text with a picture of Volo.
Apollo [7:13 PM]: Look it's you
Klavier [7:15 PM]: If you think I would wear such a thing, you don't know me well at all!
Apollo snorts again; Klavier would wear absolutely anything under the right circumstances.
Klavier [7:16 PM]: But who is it? Are you watching some strange movie again? You'll get nightmares.
Trucy is such a loudmouth. He doesn't even know when or how she became friends with Klavier. Hell, he doesn't even know when or how he became friends with Klavier.
Apollo [7:18 PM]: Nah, playing a new game
Klavier [7:18 PM]: Ah. I've never spent much time on those. What's it about?
Apollo blinks and frantically tries for a summary that won't sound silly. Klavier probably isn't that interested anyway. He's probably asked just to be polite, but still, wouldn't it be rude not to answer?
"Catching pokemon" sounds too simple and like a smartass remark, which he's not usually opposed to making, but…
"Exploring a big empty world and maybe something about time and space?" sounds pretty ridiculous, especially for someone who doesn't play games.
"Getting dropped in a weird country as a teenager and left to fend for myself" is… a little too pointed. The comparison hadn't occurred to him until he finished typing out the tentative answer, but now he's uncomfortable all over again.
He's taking too long to respond. Klavier's going to think he decided not to answer or that he got too absorbed in a game he can't even explain.
"Do you want to come over and check it out" he types, and throws his head back again.
His phone slides out of his hand, landing face-up on the couch beside him.
Mikeko stretches, the soft pink footpad of one front paw landing on the keyboard and the other landing squarely on the "send" button.
The sound alerts Apollo to his grave mistake too late.
Apollo [7:23 PM]: Do you want to come over and check it outmmkjn
(Across town, Klavier is hastily dressing and getting ready to leave before even confirming that Apollo means right now and before realizing that he has no idea where he's going.)
----
"You know, Herr Forehead, I'm so glad you invited me," Klavier is saying from Apollo's couch not thirty minutes after the disastrous text.
It's disastrous not because Klavier had laughed him off but because Klavier is now lounging gorgeously on Apollo's couch, and Apollo has no idea at all what to do now.
"Uh-- oh. Yeah?" he says, gingerly retaking his seat and trying desperately to look casual and not like he's trying to scoot as far away as possible.
It's just that Klavier has a way of filling a room with his presence, and Apollo's living room is exceptionally small.
"Ja, you see, I've never actually played a video game before!"
Apollo stares, completely unsold on the obvious lie. There's a framed picture of twelve-year-old Klavier playing Rock Band in the prosecutor's office.
"All right, all right. I know that look. I exaggerate. I've never played a video game that isn't rhythm-based."
Apollo stares more, lifting an eyebrow but not blinking. He'd helped Klavier with a level of a puzzle game he was "stuck" on just yesterday.
"Or a match-3 phone game. Ach, my friend, you drive a hard bargain with those eyes." Klavier clucks with his tongue and shakes his head.
"I wouldn't have to if you weren't so dramatic," Apollo points out. "Oh, um, did you want anything to eat or drink?"
Klavier shakes in silent laughter, grinning over at Apollo. "We did that part already, Forehead," he reminds Apollo gently. "I'm quite all right just now. So," he tacks on, leaning a little into Apollo's already limited space. "What are we playing? I want to see why you're harassing me with pictures of a badly dressed cartoon man."
Apollo disagrees with a lot of the words Klavier has just used. Sending one picture is hardly harassment! And Volo can't be blamed for the uniform! And really, does this style of animation even classify as a cartoon?
He opens his mouth to argue all three points in order of importance, but his fluffy saboteur surfaces again, leaping onto the remaining couch space with a delicate, "Meep."
"Apollo," Klavier whispers, unusually serious. "You have a cat."
"I...did actually know that, believe it or not. I feed her and everything."
Klavier makes a disturbingly soft cooing sound. Mikeko chirps at him and allows chin scratches, and Apollo realizes suddenly that he's done for. Even he isn't always allowed to give chin scratches. The cat is actually out to kill him, either via heartbreak or social sabotage. Sensationalist cat media has been right all along.
"Er... Apollo? Are you all right?"
He startles, realizing he's dropped his head into his hands in misery. And to think he'd just accused Klavier of being dramatic.
...Well, the two aren't mutually exclusive, he supposes.
"Fine! I'm fine!" It's loud enough to make Mikeko flatten her ears, but Klavier just laughs at him again.
"Ugh, whatever," Apollo grumbles. "You're sure you wanna just hang out? It might be boring to watch."
"I have good company and a comfortable couch," Klavier says. "What else does a man need? How about this: I promise I'll tell you if I get bored, and we'll find something else to do. Fair?"
"Fair," Apollo agrees, and he picks up the controller again.
-----
It goes well for approximately fifteen minutes. Apollo picks up where he left off with early side quests, and Klavier remarks on every new Pokémon he sees. He has, as it turns out, a much more liberal definition of the word "cute" than Apollo has.
He's also an unapologetic sideseat driver with a misunderstanding of type matchups so thorough that Apollo thinks it must be deliberate.
"No, no, go back, you should put that one we just caught on your team!"
"But I already have a fire type. It'd be a little redundant, right? I guess I could get rid of Cyndaquil." He frowns. It's never felt quite right to ditch his starter.
"Don't you dare!"
"Then we don't need a Ponyta!"
"But it's so cute!"
It is cute, and Apollo is weak, so Ponyta joins the team.
He puts his foot down about Mime Jr., though. For a solid fifteen minutes. The particular sharp grin he gets from Klavier when he adds it to the team tells Apollo that he's playing right into the other man's hands. He can't bring himself to care, especially when Mikeko departs and they end up gravitating toward one another, knees and elbows bumping together when either of them moves.
Soon enough, they're in the next area, and Klavier finally gets to witness the character he's here for.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice is assuring Apollo that the game is just an excuse and that Klavier is here for Apollo, actually. It's the same voice that tells him it's OK to order a meal instead of scrounging from the dollar menu, that it's better to invest in well-made underwear and not have to buy it again in three months because the cheap elastic snaps in the dryer. He's terrified to be hearing it now, because it's always right, and Apollo still doesn't know what to do about Klavier genuinely liking him.
To distract himself, he blurts, "I bet he turns out to be evil."
Klavier looks offended. "What?"
"It's just-- nobody's that nice to someone they shouldn't be helping unless they have some other motive, right? Volo must think he stands to gain something from befriending the main character."
That gets him an odd look, pained and uncertain. It's a weird expression on Klavier, and Apollo doesn't like it one bit. "Maybe he thinks he stands to gain a friend."
"Maybe," Apollo says, drawing out the vowels. "I don't know. It just seems weird how he keeps turning up and being helpful. Not to mention I've never actually bought anything from his guild but he keeps giving me free stuff anyway."
"Maybe not everything has to be a transaction," Klavier counters softly. He sounds almost hurt.
The tone of his voice makes Apollo remember that he'd been the one to draw the comparison in the first place. He bumps his shoulder against Klavier's. "I don't think you're secretly evil. Or that you're using me or whatever."
Klavier doesn't respond verbally, but he returns the pressure, leaning a little more heavily into Apollo's side.
The somber mood between them vanishes entirely when they get back to town.
"I think maybe since I ranked up, there might be new clothes," he says, pulling the character up short beside the clothier. Sure enough, she gives him the message about new styles.
Apollo doesn't particularly care about fashion. He'd be content to finish out the game in his Survey Corps uniform, but the customization seems like something Klavier might enjoy, and the awkwardness hanging around makes him want to talk just to fill the dead air.
He's flipping idly through the clothing options, nothing really catching his eye, when Klavier inhales sharply beside him.
"Apollo," he says, a note of awe in his voice. "Go back to that last tab."
"What, the karate things? No way."
Klavier steals the controller right out of his unsuspecting hands. He fumbles with buttons for a good ten seconds, clearly unfamiliar with the layout, but he manages to go back to the previous list.
"Oh, suits," Apollo says mildly. He hadn't even really noticed. Was that what had caught Klavier's attention?
His question answers itself when Klavier clumsily scrolls down through the color options, stopping on the crimson variant. "We have to buy it. You have to put it on."
"What? No way, I'm not wasting my money on that."
"It's fake money. You'll earn more. Besides, you're sitting on like sixteen bags of stardust! You can afford it!"
"I might need them for something!" Fake money or not, the idea of exhausting a resource is mildly terrifying.
"The item description literally says they're for selling!"
"But what if there's like-- a side quest and somebody needs one?"
"Then you'll get it the way you got the last sixteen! Look, you don't even have to sell them. You can afford it right now." Klavier hands back the controller, eyes as intense as they sometimes are in the courtroom.
Even as determined as he is, he's leaving the final decision up to Apollo, and that's... that's a weird, warm feeling that seems way too heavy for a virtual outfit on a video game character.
"Why do you want it so bad? It's kinda goofy."
"It's the closest thing to what you'd wear, ja? And the character is obviously modeled after you. He's short, with the hair and the eyes and all the fiery things and the not realizing when he's being flirted with..."
Apollo opens his mouth and shuts it twice, furrows his brow, and massages the spot on his forehead just between his eyes that always hurts when he tries to follow Klavier's logic.
He tries again, this time managing to say, "None of that is accurate?"
"Oh? Do tell."
"OK, so first, it's just a default character model. There are...not a lot of options. Also, he's like 15? So he might not be short forever and also no one should be flirting with him? And if you'll remember, you're the one who wanted 'all the fiery things," he finishes, heart pounding as he tries to figure out what to do with the last point.
"I only said he was modeled after you, not that you did the modeling," Klavier says with the same lazy assurance he has in court when Apollo proves a point in his favor.
"And also it's not that I don't realize, it's just that I usually don't really know what to do about it." The words practically fall out of his face, gone before he can stop them.
Klavier's expression smoothes out to its usual kind regard. "Ah. Well, that depends entirely on the outcome you want," he says, looking directly at Apollo. "I hope you know I'll stop if you ask."
"I know," Apollo hurries to assure him. "I know. That's...not what I want."
Klavier hums. "Knowing what you don't want is good. Knowing what you do want might be a little more helpful in this case." There's nothing chiding or accusatory to his statement, only the same patience he's always shown Apollo. (Almost always. He can never quite forget Klavier's anger the first time they faced off.)
Apollo takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I guess I just never learned how to give it back. You're kind of the only person who's ever bothered? And it seems like you're really good at it and it's easier to get mad and blow you off than to try to flirt back and risk getting tongue-tied and saying something stupid." There goes another rush of words leaving his mouth unchecked.
"Oh, my friend, with all due respect, sometimes you say stupid things anyway, and I have never once thought less of you for it."
"That's-- I think I'm offended?"
Klavier laughs, and for once he actually lets out the sound of it. It's clear and bright without a hint of malice, and Apollo curses whatever circumstances taught him to laugh quietly. "Oh, please don't be offended. Very well. Perhaps you can't flirt back comfortably, but I happen to know you're quite comfortable with bluntness. So in the interest of 'speaking your language,' as they say: I care for you a great deal. I missed you very much when you were gone. I'm glad you're back. I want to keep you close to me. Closer than we were before, if you'll allow it. If you aren't interested in a romantic relationship with me, I understand that there are all sorts of reasons for that, and you don't owe me any kind of explanation. If you are interested...well, I think this makes for a rather good first date."
Apollo's face feels like it's going to explode. His skin is too tight all over, like the feeling of his hands swelling from peeling shrimp for too long back in Khura'in. He has no idea how Klavier can say such things to anyone so confidently, much less why he would say them to Apollo, of all people.
It's not like it's new information. It's just that he's always been able to hide from it before.
He tries his best to keep his gaze steady when he answers. Klavier deserves clarity after all that. "If this is a first date, I guess you have to buy me something nice," he says.
The moment of confusion he gets in return is not what he was going for.
"Buy the fucking suit," he clarifies, passing the controller back to Klavier and then promptly burying his burning face against Klavier's shoulder. He doesn't protest at all when Klavier laughs at him again and wraps his arms around him.
"I think I see what you mean about saying something stupid."
"Having second thoughts?" he questions,muffled against Klavier's chest.
"Not a single one."
For once, he doesn't need the little voice in the back of his head to believe that it's true.