#bold of anyone to assume i know what the hell im doing with my icons

[ja-baby]

“You’re still awake?” ~@chords-of-justice ((hiya!! Hope you don’t mind the poke fjgkgk))

{ @chords-of-justice }

The voice was surprising, but not unfamiliar.

Everyone had already gone home. Klavier didn't expect to run into anyone else for the night, especially not Apollo of all people. He'd been knee deep in evidence way later than he was supposed to be. So admittedly hearing a voice had startled him a bit. Did Apollo even knock, or had Gavin been so desperate to not think about anything that he hadn't noticed? He prided himself in the fact that he had only given a slight flinch at Apollo's query, fingers tensing around the files in his hands. But even that was too much. He knew Apollo would catch on to even the tiniest waver in resolution. 

In that aspect, Apollo reminded him of a hawk. 

Piercing eyes that could spot an uncertain prey a mile away. A predator eager to latch onto the scent of distress. Always ready to intimidate and screech, breaking down it's target until they were just a wriggling worm to scoop up with his talons. 

However, despite his talent for the hunt, Apollo Justice was not a hawk. 

Or an eagle, or falcon, or whatever other animal ready to tear at bloody meat. The only thing Apollo ripped apart was flimsy testimony, and while Klavier was thankful for the lack of jungle setting, his eerie perception was just as scary. 

So Klavier carefully set down his papers, folders with enough trial information and puny names to give him a headache, and sat back in his massage/office chair. He tried to appear as lax as possible. Which, at this point, came easy. His body was too tired to be unnecessarily tense anyway. Days of drowning himself in the distraction of work made sure of that. Even so, just meeting the defense lawyer's gaze was enough to make his tired muscles rethink their loose nature. 

Was Apollo already sizing him up?

It made Klavier wonder if he was truly curious, or if it was just second nature by now. Either way, the analytical look beckoned a lurch in Gavin's stomach. He prayed to any god out there that he didn't look too awful. He'd made sure to tidy himself up as best as possible. Still, hours of work always led to a deteriorating appearance. Sleepless nights led to the threat of bags. Back and forth trips from leads, to the office, to home resulted in disheveled clothes. Unpredictable weather ended in hairs slipping out of place. Subconsciously, he lifted a hand to smooth down some haywire strands. He realized his mistake soon after, a nervous gesture he knew, but tried to play it off with his usual playful tone. 

"I could ask you the same. I never thought you would visit me at such a late hour. Is herr Wright paying you overtime, or did you just miss me?"

Good. That was good. Teasing came as naturally to him as breathing. Maybe that would give him some semblance of normal. Nevertheless, the little voice in the back of his head, the one that sounded suspiciously like Kristoph, asked him who it was that he was really trying to convince. Apollo, or himself? Luckily, there was no need to answer annoying thoughts when you could just shove them back to the farthest place of your mind. 

I'm so tired of thinking. 

Hopefully the teasing was enough to throw Apollo off his scent. It was true enough, wasn't it? After all, they hadn't seen each other in a few days. Rightfully so. After the Misham case, there was a lot to sort out. The disbandment of the Gavineers, the onslaught of work, his bro-

I want to stop thinking. Let's stop thinking. 

He folded his hands onto his stomach, reclining slightly in the out of place chair. The comfort was short lived though, fingers unlacing so he could gesture towards the files on his desk. No sudden movements. No sudden frowns. No sudden twitches in facial muscles. He was former lead vocalist of the Gavinners, and present scourge of the courtroom. But most of all he was suave, and that was the personality he was going to commit to tonight. 

"Or you came for that. Didn't know you were the 'sharing secrets with the hot enemy prosecutor in the dead of night' kind of guy. But you always surprise me in the best of ways, herr forehead"

Smiling was easy. Scientifically, it took less energy to smile than to frown. And he knew he had a good one, years of false grins perfected by stage appearances and clingy press.

He wondered why now though, smiling felt particularly tiring.