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Gregory Edgeworth hadn't planned on being at the court's annual Holiday Gala, filled with preening, overdressed officials, and their complicated networking rituals. Gregory appreciated directness, in his own life and in the courtroom. He’d rather hoped to spend his holiday at home, sipping hot cocoa by a fire with his favorite detective and his son. Not that Detective Badd would act excited about presents, but he’d drink the cocoa and play along, and Miles would be delighted to unwrap his present—this year’s compendium of the Journal of International Studies in Evidence Law—and begin reading.
But Badd had been unavailable, and Gregory had a trial tomorrow, and Prosecutor Faraday had the evidence list. The trial was first thing in the morning, so if he didn't want to be improvising on the stand, he needed to get that list now. He sighed as he inspected his snappiest dress vest in the mirror. It was only slightly stained: he hadn't had time to have it dry-cleaned. It would have to do.
At least Miles would be happy. The glittering promise of city's judges, prosecutors, and attorneys, all gathered in one room! Miles would be enraptured.
Byrne Faraday hadn't planned on being at the Gala either. He had a case to argue, bright and early the next morning. And he was the single parent of a young child, for crying out loud! Did the courts think childcare grew on trees? Byrne was of the opinion that work events ought to be held during working hours. But Detective Badd had just turned up decisive new evidence, and Badd had surprised everyone by submitting his RSVP to the gala, so if they wanted to review the evidence, it had to be there.
Why Badd was going was anyone's guess: the whole department had been shocked. The judge himself had remarked that he could not imagine someone who loathed galas more than Badd. Byrne had more immediate concerns to attend to though: his own plus-one had tromped into the room, wearing a pink princess costume and stubbornly pouting. And no one was going to agree to sit for Kay, not after she'd escaped her last three sitters. Poor Ms. Oldbag had been wailing, convinced that she'd be locked away for losing a child. The instant Byrne had returned with little Kay in tow, Ms. Oldbag had gone into a towering rage that no amount of tips could quell.
So Kay was going to the gala, in her samurai suit no less, and let that be a lesson to the department! At least little Kay would have a good time.
Tyrell Badd would have rather put out his own eye than gone to a gala. He’d had to turn down a quiet firelit evening with his favorite attorney, and for what? A night of glowering in a corner? Unfortunately, he’d promised to bring Attorney Yew as his plus one. How she'd extracted such a promise from gruff, grumpy Badd, the world would never know. Or for that matter, why Calisto had needed a plus-one in the first place: as a defense attorney of the city, she would've received her own invitation. But she'd insisted it was improper to attend alone, and Badd had apparently relented.
He wouldn’t be caught dead dressing up though, not him, not ever. He shrugged on his coat, pocketed an extra pack of lollipops, checked his hand mirror, and then went in his muddy boots. Calisto eyed him sideways. He glared back, daring her to object.
At least one thing went his way: Byrne arrived at the evidence review with Gregory Edgeworth and two children in tow, apologetically rambling about schedules and court integrity. “Miles and Kay won’t say anything, they’ll hardly understand what we’re talking about, and I haven’t anywhere else to put them, so they can stay for the debrief right?”
“Wishful thinking,” Badd huffed in annoyance. Those two specific children "hardly understanding"? They’d have the whole case pieced together before the night was out. But at least he’d get to see Gregory tonight, and maybe get a goodnight kiss later, so he gave a curt nod, and launched straight into the evidence review.
The evidence itself was simple enough, and Badd was very nearly thorough. He intentionally left out a subtle-but-noticeable detail, that Gregory was sure to notice. As intended, Gregory tapped his shoulder before he could retreat to his glowering corner. “I’d like to ask about... well... the shadow in the photo,” Gregory said.
Gregory must have hurried to arrive in time for the review, Badd noted. His face was still flushed, no doubt from rushing over. Badd was feeling rather warm himself. "Damn candles, do we really need five thousand of the things?" he grumbled. Byrne was already crossing the room to greet Calisto, leaving Kay to scamper around his ankles. Typical. Everyone was always mistaking him for a babysitter. He'd have complained if it had been anyone but Kay.
In the meantime, the children were staring at the chocolate fountain with wide eyes. Badd jerked his head at a secluded balcony, where a lovely cool breeze was blowing. “Let’s talk where it’s quieter,” he said. “We’ll leave the kids inside. They’ll be in view.”
“Indeed.” Gregory’s smile lit up his whole face. Badd coughed and strode for the balcony.
They stood together quietly on the balcony a few moments, watching the children from a distance. Badd leaned conspicuously toward Gregory. Then Kay reached out to stick her fingers in the chocolate fountain, and Badd hurried to stop her. Before he could take two steps, Miles had pulled her hand back. Badd sighed. Gregory chuckled.
"Actually, I didn't have a question for you. Just wanted some time alone... and to give you an early Christmas present," Gregory admitted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in crinkled brown paper.
"Thank—ahhh!" Badd wasn't usually sentimental about presents, but he found himself unexpectedly eager to open this one. But just as he reached out to accept it, before his fingers could close on it, Calisto appeared at his elbow, like a specter from the shadows, and dragged him away, still sputtering.
Gregory watched with amusement as Yew dragged Badd to a corner partially-hidden by a large ice sculpture. There, they whispered furiously to each other, both looking agitated and alarmed. They were so engrossed in their whispered conversation that neither noticed the judge walking by in his scattered, meandering way, black court robes trailing behind him. "Seasons greetings!" the judge said loudly and cheerfully.
Both jumped. "Knngh! Where did you come from?" Badd yelped guiltily.
"Lovely weather we're having!" Yew said loudly, kicking Badd in the shin. Gregory could hear them from clear across the room.
The judge didn't notice anything amiss. He happily began a disjointed story that Badd and Yew listened to with stiff frozen smiles. "Alpaca wool sock patterns—" Gregory heard him say. Chuckling to himself, he tuned the monologue out and began to think about tomorrow's trial, playing out different versions of the timeline in his head.
It took twenty full minutes for Badd and Yew to extricate themselves from the judge's tale. Gregory looked up at the sound of their approaching footsteps.
Something was wrong about the oddly-peaceful scene before him. It took him a few seconds to place what was missing. "Ngoh! The children!" he gasped.
"What are you—Wait!" Badd yelped, but Gregory was already off and running. He tore around the hall inspecting every nook and cranny, and at last found Miles and little Kay crouched beneath a table of champagne flutes. Next to the table was a towering champagne fountain. Gregory stood next to it, obscured from the children's view, and listened to them talk.
"No, you can't sneak some," Miles was warning Kay.
"What, because it will stunt my growth? It hasn't helped you, has it?" Kay retorted.
"Yes, but that's not the only reason," Miles said seriously. He pointed at edge of the fountain, pointing out a tiny green stain. "Industry regulations require that decorative containers for food and drink be cleaned after transportation. This hall was set up yesterday, but the stage of growth on this patch of lichen indicates it's over three days old."
"So?"
"Ergo, this fountain was not washed to industry regulations," Miles explained. "If these flutes were filled from the fountain, they may contain contaminants as well."
"I'm sure the champagne sterilized it," Kay said impatiently.
By then, Badd and Yew had caught up to him. "He's a clever one," Badd said, nodding at Miles. "I'll bet you let him wheedle extra desserts out of you."
"He stops me from sneaking them," Gregory admitted, resigned.
Badd snorted. "You need someone to keep an eye on you," he said, holding up his pocket mirror as if to demonstrate. He froze just a fraction, an almost-impercetible hitch, then he turned. "Oh, it's you," he said to someone behind him, someone Gregory couldn't see.
"Found the bundle at the hand-off site," Faraday's voice said from around the fountain, a second before the man himself came into view. Gregory looked at him in surprise. For his part, Faraday looked startled, then horrified. He quickly shifted to hide something behind his back. "The bundle of... erm... prop playing cards for the... um, Steel Samurai and Gramarye Troupe collab show," he hurriedly tried to clarify.
"I'm sure I would've known if such a show were in town," Gregory said mildly. He knew every Samurai-related event in the city and surrounding metropolitan area. Miles made sure of it.
Badd cleared his throat pointedly. "Oh... it's actually happening overseas," Faraday said in a panic.
"Hmm... how fascinating," Gregory said.
"But we're missing the... queen of spades," Faraday added. Badd cleared his throat again.
Gregory watched, bemused. Badd had his secrets—anyone in the court system did. It was practically a requirement while their cases were in progress. Yet for all his experience, Badd had never learned to act or lie convincingly. He preferred the more direct methods of growling at people and turning his back. Apparently Faraday was no better. Among the three of them, Attorney Yew was the only one with any composure. But as he watched, Gregory's smile faded. Badd didn't seem concerned about him. He was staring fixedly into his mirror, repeatedly smoothing down the same spot on his head. Yew's shoulders were tensed. Someone else was listening, Gregory understood.
So Gregory was alert and carefully watching, when the moment came that Badd and Yew traded the tiniest glance, when Badd's whiskers twitched just a hair to the left.
A second later, an unassuming server passed by. Smoothly, Yew stepped around the fountain, champagne flute already in hand, and intercepted the server. "This is an excellent choice of drink," she said, her tone light. "What brand is it?"
It's... um... ah," the server mumbled. Up close, Gregory could see that his name tag was pinned on the wrong side of his too-loose uniform.
"Yes?" Yew prompted.
"Sorry, Ma'am, I'm terribly busy," the server tried, backing a step away from her and closer to the fountain.
"Oh, I won't keep you! Just the name of the bottle, and I'll be on my way."
"I—I'll just be getting my manager," the server said, hastily backing up three more steps. On the last step, his shoe caught on the dragging hem of his too-long trousers.
In slow motion, the room watched in horror as the server fell backwards, arms windmilling wildly. He crashed into the champagne fountain, which slowly began toppling towards Gregory. Even the children stopped to watch, Miles gasped, Kay covered her mouth, and even Yew's eyes grew round in shock. Gregory raised his arms, shielding his face from the splash that never came.
"Grrrhgh!" Badd grunted, followed by heavy breaths. Gregory peeked past his arms to see Badd holding up the half-tilted fountain, drenched from head to toe: a wave of champagne had come sloshing out over the tilted rim and soaked him through.
Servers and catering staff were descending on the scene, straightening the fountain and cleaning the mess, and among the sea of them, the fishy one in the stolen uniform vanished into the night. Gregory leaped into motion, snatching Miles from under the table and hauling him away.
Badd shivered when the cool night breeze hit him once again, when they were all gathered on the balcony once more. He pulled his sodden coat tighter around him. It did not help at all.
"It could've been worse," Byrne said glumly. He stared dejectedly into the distance. "All that planning," he mumbled. "Now we'll have to start over from scratch."
"A pity," Calisto sighed. "Too bad he couldn't have dropped... this."
Byrne swiveled around, mouth agape. Calisto tossed him a black wallet, which he caught automatically. "This is... how?" he stammered.
Calisto burst into braying laughter. "Phwaahaha! You should see your face right now!" she crowed. "Ha! That was great! He dropped it when he fell, of course!"
"Right," Byrne said. He seemed to collect himself, then suddenly remembered Gregory and the kids still watching. He coughed. "We'll have to return it, of course," he said, giving Calisto a meaningful look. "I'll bring it back to the precinct. Calisto, you'll come and help look over—I mean, identify the owner, yes? And Badd...." he trailed off, looking over Badd's drenched overcoat.
"You can handle returning a wallet," Badd said. "You're not a complete idiot. I'm going home and drying off."
"Erm—" Byrne started to say.
"Yes, alright, I'll bring Kay home too," Badd added with an eyeroll.
"Thanks, much appreciated."
He really was too straightforward for this line of work, Badd thought for the hundredth time, watching their retreating backs. Byrne Faraday had the noblest of intentions, but it took a shady character to catch a shady character. He hadn't noticed when Badd jostled the fallen server, seemingly by accident, as he'd leaped to catch the fountain. Calisto had seen, and she'd understood. She was shrewd in a way Badd recognized in himself: claws that a straightforward man like Byrne couldn't wield.
Byrne could recognize an opportunity well enough when one presented itself, but shady characters made their own opportunities. Badd turned to Gregory. "Don't suppose there's somewhere closer for me to get dry, is there?" he asked, knowing full well the answer.
Gregory got his picture-perfect evening after all. It had been an hour since he'd brought Badd to his home to dry off. While Badd showered, he'd fed Miles a plate of ham and green beans, and Kay a heap of fish sticks, and then made hot chocolate for everyone. He'd set out a glass of pink dessert wine for Badd, then made the children wait to open presents, until Badd had reappeared in slightly-small pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Miles had fallen asleep halfway through his third journal article, and Kay was snoring on the couch.
"Quite a night, wasn't it?" Gregory huffed, handing Badd the wine.
Though he was reknowned for his caution, and was never seen drinking from anything except his own flask which he kept on himself at all times, Badd drank it without hesitation. Gregory felt as warm inside as if he'd drunk the wine himself. "Sorry about... all that," he grumbled, staring into the fire.
"Don't be," Gregory said. "You're working on something big, as always."
"And you're sharp, as always."
Gregory couldn't help but laugh. "I don't need to be, the way you were all acting," he snorted.
Badd's mustache twitched too. "Still, you must want a night away from it once in a while," he said. "I'm not good at quiet nights."
"You wouldn't be you if you were," Gregory said simply. "On that note, would you finally like your present?"
Badd tore open the paper to reveal a small comb, made of smooth, polished mahogany that matched his hand mirror. He held it up, running it experimentally through his hair.
"So you have something to do with your other hand while you're staring into that thing all the time. Wherever your work leads, you'll have my support in some small way," Gregory explained.
Badd cleared his throat gruffly, then silently handed him a package of his own. When Gregory unwrapped the fancy imported cocoa from Zheng Fa, Badd didn't explain, and Gregory didn't need him to. He understood the message that it carried: the hope for many more quiet nights by the fire ahead.
Gregory moved to sit next to Badd, leaning into him and settling into his warmth. He turned his head, and Badd turned to meet him in their first kiss of the night.