Chapter Text
Thursday, 5:15 pm
Wright Talent Agency
Kristoph Gavin knocked on the battered door of the once thriving law firm and waited patiently for a response. He was rewarded a moment later with a quick set of footsteps running to the other side of the door.
“We’re sorry, but business hours are from 9 to 5 on weekdays. If you’d like to give us a call—”
“It’s only me, Trucy,” called Kristoph.
Silence held for a moment before the footsteps retreated and a much heavier set took their place. The door swung open to reveal a man with a soft grey hoodie and steely eyes.
“Kristoph,” said Phoenix Wright, “this is a surprise.”
“I thought I’d catch you at home for once.” Kristoph smiled. “May I come in?”
Wright held his gaze a long moment. “It’s not much, you know that.”
“Oh, I won’t be long. It’s just a trivial thing, really.”
Another moment passed before Wright broke. “Trucy? How about you and Mr. Hat move your disappearing act to the bedroom?”
“Okay Daddy!” A flash of blue accompanied the footsteps this time.
“And maybe see about disappearing some of the mess while you’re in there, okay?” That comment got no response but a slammed door, and Wright grinned and shrugged. “Teenagers.”
“Oh, indeed. Klavier was quite the terror. At least little Trucy never picked up the drums.”
Wright’s smile thinned as he stepped back and let Kristoph through the door at last. “At least drums don’t leave feathers everywhere.”
“Ah, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? My most sincere apologies, Phoenix—”
“It’s fine,” Wright cut in. “He’s your brother. No hard feelings.”
“You are too kind, as always, Phoenix.” Kristoph eyed the couch suspiciously. The clutter had migrated since he’d been here last – some of it literally, if Wright and the feathers were to be believed.
“You’re welcome to sit,” Wright chimed in merrily, “We weren’t expecting company, but if you give me a moment—”
“That’s quite unnecessary, thank you.” Kristoph coughed and adjusted his glasses. “It really will only be a moment.”
Wright’s eyes widened dramatically. “Well I hope you didn’t go too far out of your way, Kristoph! You know I’m just as happy to stop by your place.”
The grin had returned, and Kristoph snapped his in place to match it. “Perhaps you should! It doesn’t seem fair that I do all the work in this relationship!” The tension held in the air a moment before both of them started to laugh. “Though really Phoenix, if you’d just let me—”
“The answer’s still no, Kristoph,” Wright said firmly, “we’re doing just fine here.”
Kristoph’s eyes lingered on a suspicious white residue on the coffee table. “If you say so, Phoenix.” He touched his glasses once more and watched Wright out of the corner of his eye. The man hadn’t taken his eyes off him once.
Wright yawned and scratched the back of his neck. “What was it you wanted to talk about? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what was so important you couldn’t catch me at work?”
“Ah,” Kristoph turned, beaming, “That’s because it involves Trucy as well.”
Wright’s hand froze mid-scratch. Kristoph busied himself rummaging in his mostly-empty satchel. “Ah, here it is. Trucy?” he called brightly, and extracted a tiny spray bottle in incredibly gaudy shades of pink and purple.
The bedroom door creaked open. Kristoph turned his back on Wright in favor of the teenager slowly emerging, ventriloquist dummy still attached. Trucy Wright met his eyes, then her father’s, then smiled and bowed as her dummy applauded wildly. “The one and only! That’s me! What can I do for you, Mr. Gavin?”
“Come now, Trucy, I’ve told you a hundred times, call me Kristoph.” He held the bottle higher up. “I have a present for you, before your show tonight!”
“Woah, woah! All gentlemen callers have to go through me first, house rules.” Wright inserted himself bodily between Kristoph and Trucy, squinting at the bottle. “Is that—”
“Oh, the limited edition Gavinner Glass Cleaner celebrating their collaboration with The Pink Princess: Warrior of Little Old Tokyo!” Trucy appeared under her father’s elbow. “I haven’t seen the movie yet, but critics panned it, which is probably a good thing given their reaction to The Steel Samurai Goes to China—”
“Trucy!” Wright yelped, arms flailing for balance, “Don’t you have a show to be getting ready for?”
“I am ready, Daddy,” Trucy giggled, “Me and Mr. Hat are all prepared.”
“And your coworkers?”
“And my coworkers.”
Wright took his eyes off Kristoph long enough to stare pointedly at the bookshelf, where a pair of doves seemed to have made a nest in an old legal tome. Trucy rolled her eyes. “It’s not like they need to sit in my sleeves for hours before the show even starts, Daddy. I’ll get them before I leave.”
“Fine. Gloves, hat, wand? Hacksaw? Panties?” Wright’s voice softened as he went on, and Trucy smiled back.
“I know you can see my hat, Daddy, you’re not that much of an antiquarian yet.”
Wright clutched his heart. “Betrayed, by my only daughter. How will I go on?” He moaned and collapsed slowly toward Trucy, only to be intercepted by Mr. Hat. “Please. Just a mere token from my one and only lady love…”
“The gloves stay on during the magic show,” Mr. Hat intoned as Trucy waggled a gloved finger.
“If I gave out gloves to every admirer, there’d be none left in LA. That’s what the flowers are for!”
Wright squinted at her. Trucy laughed and pointed at his hat, which had in fact sprouted a pink carnation at some point. She turned back to Kristoph as Wright struggled to extract the flower without tripping over the couch. “That’s very thoughtful of you Mr. Gavin, except that neither Daddy nor I wear glasses.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully a moment, then brightened. “I know! Come on, Mr, Hat!” She clapped her hands and vanished in a puff of smoke as Wright righted himself and turned back to Kristoph.
“Never a dull moment, that’s for sure.”
“Indeed,” Kristoph forced out, “she’s certainly…lively.”
“Polite, too, when she wants to be.” Wright brushed a feather off his shirt. “Don’t know where she keeps getting these geraniums from though.”
Kristoph set the spray bottle down slightly harder than necessary on the credenza. “Perhaps you should see if any florists are missing their inventory?”
Wright chuckled. “She knows better than that.” He met Kristoph’s eyes evenly. “I suppose I should thank you, though this seems a bit outside of your usual.”
“My brother,” Kristoph sighed, “continues to send me whatever inane piece of merchandise his band has produced in the mistaken hope that it will impress me. While I know there is no love lost between you, I had hoped that a teenage girl might be more able to make use of it.” He rolled his eyes, then frowned and pulled off his glasses. “Speaking of glass cleaner…”
“Does it work on normal glass too?” Wright’s voice piped up, “I’ve never had glasses myself.”
“It does, in fact.” Kristoph found his own, clear bottle and spritzed his lenses. “Klavier uses it on his hand mirrors.” He traded the bottle for his cleaning cloth and gently rubbed the lenses. “If I may ask, what was in that fake smoke? It’s a rather unusual residue.”
“A magician never reveals her secrets, Mr. Gavin!” A purple blur appeared in front of Kristoph’s nose and he leaned back instinctively. The purple blur sharpened to a purple blur with yellow splotches, and he hurriedly finished wiping his lenses and returned his glasses to his face. His nose wrinkled.
“One of Klavier’s promotional posters? I knew he was popular with teenagers, but I didn’t realize you yourself were such a fan, Trucy.”
“News to me, too,” muttered Wright from somewhere behind the poster.
Kristoph blinked again and took another step back. Mr. Hat stepped forward, poster still in hand. Trucy popped up next to him with a permanent marker in hand.
“So I was thinking, Mr. Gavin—”
“Trucy Wright, you certainly aren’t asking me to forge Klavier’s signature.”
Trucy gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. “Of course not, Mr. Gavin! I was just hoping you would sign it!”
“Ah.” Klavier grimaced. “As K. Gavin, I presume? Or Mr. Gavin? Or dare I say, just Gavin?”
Trucy seemed to wilt a little. “Well—”
“Trucy.” Wright’s voice came from somewhere behind Mr. Hat. Trucy looked toward him, and then her shoulders crumpled. Even Mr. Hat rolled up the poster and slunk behind her. Wright’s eyes were stern and uncompromising.
“Sorry, Daddy,” Trucy whispered.
“I know,” said Wright calmly. “We’ll talk about this later. For now, you can practice in the bedroom while I finish chatting with Mr. Gavin.” Trucy nodded and walked solemnly to the door, footsteps even softer than usual.
Kristoph did not wait for the door to finish closing. “Really, Phoenix, it’s not as though she did it on purpose. She was only a child, you know she couldn’t possibly—”
“Thank you, Kristoph, I’ll handle my daughter.” Kristoph pursed his lips.
“If you say so, Phoenix.” His eyes traced over the room once more – the trick magician’s box, the spare capes, the feathers, what appeared to be a floating plate of spaghetti. “I’m sure you have it under control.”
“I’m sorry she bothered you; I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Good.” Kristoph brushed a feather off his suit with a grimace.
“And thank you again for the glass cleaner. It was really very thoughtful of you.”
Kristoph smiled. “Don’t mention it. It was my pleasure. After all, what are friends for?”
Wright smiled widely back and opened the door for him. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” Kristoph stepped gingerly over another top hat and out of the door. “Watch your step, Kristoph.”
Kristoph paused. “Hmm?”
“The step, at the base of the landing. It’s a bit wonky, easy to lose your balance on. Have a good night, Kristoph.”
“Good night, Wright.”
The door shut behind him. Kristoph’s grin faded to a scowl as he left the building.
He nearly tripped on the stair.