An Act of Infinite Optimism
The plan, as Ema explains to Apollo, is meant to be simple.
Apollo will buy Trucy one of the overpriced bubble teas from the vending machines at the courthouse. He’ll get her to drink from it.
Then he’ll take the can without being a creep and give it to Ema for saliva analysis.
Ema is somehow going to get a saliva sample from Lamiroir, though she refuses to disclose how exactly she’ll accomplish that, then beg the forensics lab on her hands and knees to perform the tests that’ll prove whether the two of them are related or not.
Simple.
Really simple. Anyone can do it. Which is why Apollo is going to steel his nerve and spend twenty dollars right—!
“Pol-ly!”
Freezing cold and wet is pressed against the back of his neck.
“GAAAAAAH!!”
Whipping around with his hands clapped over the offended area reveals Trucy Wright laughing herself silly, a drink can in each hand.
“Pfft—! Oh Polly, your face!” She giggles. “I’m sorr-ee-hee-hee—!”
He scowls at her. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’d like to see you look nice if someone shoved ice against your neck.”
“Aw c’mon Polly, don’t be mad!” Trucy pouts. “And after I got you something too.”
He should know better than to fall for the bait by now, but. “Got something?”
She proffers one of the cans, which Apollo recognizes as the coffee he often stares longingly at but never has the funds to justify buying for himself.
“I made a mint in tips at the Wonder Bar last night!” She boasts. “Besides we need a pre-celebratory drink for winning the trial today!”
Apollo thinks of the ten dollar bill Ema lent him to help pay for the bubble tea that Trucy’s holding.
He quietly vows to return it alongside the evidence as he takes the coffee. “It’s not about winning. We know Machi didn’t do it, so now we just need to prove it.”
“Of course! We’ll show that Lamiroir is telling the truth and Machi is innocent!” Trucy clenches a fist, looking determined.
A small pang goes off in his chest. He can’t help thinking how lucky Lamiroir and Machi are to have someone like Trucy in their corner. To have a family.
He grins as he clinks their cans together. “I’ll drink to that.”
The two of them sit in comfortable silence as they enjoy their drinks.
“Whoa,” Trucy says. “Lookit their clothes!”
“Don’t point at people!” Apollo scolds, before he follows her finger. “…Although those are. Wow.”
The clothes in question are suits with more excess fabric and frills than is common in the U.S. style. Dark shades, with swirling trims of bright color to make them pop. The people wearing them look like models or something, a certain stiffness to their movements and severity to their faces.
They confer briefly, before heading through the doors that lead to the gallery.
“I guess they’re here to watch the trial…” Apollo mutters to himself.
“Hm!” Trucy tips her drink back to catch the last drops, before holding the empty can out to him. “D’you mind throwing this away for me Polly? Pretty please?”
Apollo can hardly believe his luck.
“Oh, u-uh, sure.” He takes the can carefully, trying to make sure he doesn’t smudge any of her fingerprints. “Just this once, okay?”
“Yay! Thank you Polly!”
He’s grateful she doesn’t ask any questions as he speedwalks away to give the vital evidence to Ema.
He goes to take one last swig of his coffee after he rounds the corner, but frowns when it seems to have mysteriously vanished from his other hand.
That’s weird. He didn’t drop it or leave it somewhere, did he…?
Trucy claps her hands together and sends a brief prayer of apology to the plant she just emptied the rest of Polly’s coffee into.
She knows that coffee isn’t good for plants, but this is for a good cause! She’ll bring water with her for it the next time she comes by, she swears!
She slips through the courthouse until she reaches just outside the prosecutor’s lobby, and does her secret knock.
She’s not even halfway through the second part of it when the door is wrenched open and Prosecutor Gavin’s head pops out.
“Ach, it’s just you Fraulein .” He slips outside, closing the door behind him. “I thought a schlagzeugerin was attempting to audition for the Gavinners. Were you successful in your mission?”
“Of course I was! It’s—!” Trucy pats herself down, face rapidly growing worried. “Eh? Wait, that’s weird, where’d it go?”
She continues to search as Prosecutor Gavin goes from curious to concerned, thumb spinning one of his rings.
“It’s vanished!” Trucy gasps. “Just like magic! So we’ll need… these!”
With a flourish, she produces her magic panties and rummages around inside, tongue poking out for effect.
“Is this what you were looking for?” She proclaims as she produces the empty can of coffee, neatly sealed in a plastic baggie.
“Wunderbar, Fraulein.” Prosecutor Gavin enthuses, taking the bag. “And preserved perfectly as well! The officers in the lab will be pleased when I ask them to look at this.”
“Of course!” She nods proudly. “Daddy always says it’s vital to maintain the integrity of evidence!”
Prosecutor Gavin raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything to that other than a noncommittal, “Hm.”
Which is fair, Trucy supposes. Daddy did kind of deliberately make a bad name for himself, but now that the evil Gavin is in jail, she’s gotta do her bit to start clearing it up now he doesn’t need to put on an act anymore!
“I’ll send this to the lab now, along with Lamiroir’s glass.” Prosecutor Gavin takes out a large paper bag, places the coffee can inside, and seals it with red tape. “It was quite difficult for me to coax her to drink—it seems Fraulein Detective has been overwatering my witnesses.”
She would respond to that, except Prosecutor Gavin’s started messing with that ring again, spinning it around with his thumb.
She doesn’t need a bracelet like Polly does to see he’s tense. Unhappy.
Trucy scuffs the floor delicately with the toe of her boot as she takes the plunge. “Are…are you doing okay, Prosecutor Gavin? I mean, it kinda seems like this trial’s been. A lot.”
Prosecutor Gavin’s smile falters. For the briefest of moments, his shoulders sag before he pulls them back into his rockstar perfect posture.
“Ach, I won’t say that this hasn’t been slightly stressful, professionally.” He shrugs, lackadaisy painfully feigned. “But I will admit, this little puzzle has been an enjoyable diversion to refresh my mind, keep my skills sharp.”
“Oh, that’s good!” Trucy wouldn’t be half the magician she is if she couldn’t cover for her fellow performer’s slips. “It’d be no fun if Polly beat you too easily today! His head would get all swollen! I’m not sure if his forehead is meant to get any bigger…”
“Achtung, so again I combine my enjoyment with my philanthropy! After all,” Prosecutor Gavin’s fingers slip through his hair the way they always do when he’s about to lie. “When I find Herr Tobaye guilty, Dame Lamiroir will need her other son to lean on once this one is incarcerated.”
“What?! No way!” Trucy’s cheeks puff out indignantly. “We’re gonna prove Machi is innocent! You’ll see!”
“Will I now?” Prosecutor Gavin is back in full Gavinners’ mode, smirking. “You and Herr Forehead better be ready to rock, Fraulein. Once I’ve sent this off, I won’t hold back.”
“Neither will we!” Trucy calls over her shoulder as she hurries back to the defendants’ lobby.
She collides with Polly outside the vending machines. “Oof!”
“Ow, easy!” He rubs his shoulder where she made contact. He holds something out to her. “Here. Thanks for the drinks earlier.”
Trucy takes the packet of Swiss rolls. “Really? All for me? Thank you, Polly!”
He chuckles sheepishly. “Just don’t eat ’em all before the trial, okay?”
There’s a pang in her chest as she squeezes the snack close and beams back at him.
Machi and Lamiroir are really, really lucky to have Polly.
Apollo collapses into bed, absolutely exhausted.
He did it. After everything that’s gone on in this trial, the truth was found. They cleared Machi’s name.
There’s going to be another trial to determine his sentence about the smuggling, but he’s not going down for murder. He and Lamiroir and Trucy are happy. Apollo just needs to take what comfort he can from that, rather than feeling irrationally disappointed that he won’t be allowed to represent Machi in that trial too.
It’s sensible, he tells himself. It’s designed to prevent undue attachment and bias on the part of the attorney or the court. And this Raymond Shields probably is a really good attorney. Really professional and dedicated. Yeah.
He falls asleep with his head floating half-formed thoughts of seeing if Mr. Shields needs a co-counsel, or would let him just look over the documents…
When he wakes again, it’s pitch black.
He scrunches his eyes, brain unwilling to compute why he’s not asleep when it feels so grossly early.
His phone blares out its generic ringtone again, the one that sounds exactly the same as the alarm he’s set on it.
It takes a few minutes of confused searching before he finds the offending device under the covers. The urge to throw it across the room and roll over to try to sleep has never been stronger.
Grumbling and squinting against the bright light of the screen, Apollo hits “Answer”.
“H’lo?”
“Apollo!” Comes Ema’s harried whisper. “I’ve done the tests!”
Apollo blinks muzzily. “Wh—? Bu’ you said ‘rlier you didn’ have cl’r’nce?”
“I broke into the forensics lab!”
“You dID WHAT—?!”
There’s a furious banging on the wall next to his bed.
Apollo hastily lowers his voice to a whisper. “You did what?!”
“It’s fine, I covered my tracks!” Ema sounds far too dismissive for someone breaking into a place where the whole job is identifying people from even the tiniest pieces of evidence. “Besides, even if I did get caught, you’d defend me, right?”
“Well yeah, but that’s not the point—!”
“The point,” Ema cuts across. “Is the results. Which I’ve just got. Unless you wanna yell at me instead?”
“Wh—no! I mean, yes! I mean—!” Apollo stutters.
Ema must take pity on his flailing, because her voice comes down the line strong and sure, cutting through his panic. “It’s a match, Apollo.”
The confirmation knocks the wind out of him. “…Really? You’re sure?”
“Science can’t lie.” Ema grumps. “Lamiroir and Trucy are mother and daughter. No doubt about it.”
It feels like Apollo’s insides are fireworks.
He was right! They did it!
There’s the faint sound of a door opening at the other end of the line.
An unfamiliar, indistinct voice shouts, “Hey! What are you doing here?!”
“Shoot!”
There’s a tremendous clatter as Ema does something to get away from her pursuer.“Sorry!”
“Ema, you need to run! Get outta there!” Apollo urges.
“WHAT-huff-D’YOU THINK-huff-I’M DOING?!” Ema yells back at him, over the sounds of running and faint cries in the background of “Stop, thief!” and “Get her!!”
And so Apollo finds himself co-opted into helping Ema evade police custody long enough to get out of the building, resigning himself to being entirely sleep-deprived tomorrow.
Trucy hardly got any sleep last night.
She was riding the high of winning the trial yesterday and Prosecutor Gavin’s promise of getting the results of the saliva analysis and Apollo buying Eldoon’s for dinner, when she got back home and found the office empty again. Which is fine! It’s empty more often than not nowadays, so she figured she’d just put on the Gavinners to fill the quiet. And then she remembered midway through Atroquinine My Love that there was no more Gavinners. That she’d attended their last ever concert.
Which, again, is good! Daryan was definitely guilty and deserved to go to jail! She doesn’t regret helping Polly at all, even if it means her favorite band breaks up! Not one bit!
But behind closed doors she needed to have several emotions about it. That ended up lasting all night.
She feels bleary as she showers and gets dressed. She’ll probably take a nap this afternoon before going to the Wonder Bar instead of doing her reading homework. It’s really piling up, but she needs to be at her best as a performer!
She hears voices, low and angry-sounding, as she rounds the corner to the kitchen.
Daddy’s standing in front of the door, hands fisted in the pockets of his hoodie, tension in every line of his back even as he pretends to be relaxed.
“Daddy? Is everything okay?” She can’t help asking.
Daddy jumps a little, turning to her with a tired smile. “Ah, Trucy, it’s fine—“
“Guten morgen, Fraulein Magician!” Prosecutor Gavin’s head pops up over Daddy’s shoulder as he waves. “I trust you find yourself well on this beautiful morning, ja?”
Daddy’s smile twitches at the corners a tiny bit.
“I’m good!” Trucy chirps back, performance as comfy to slip into as her cape. “How come you’re here so early? Did you want to sign up to the talent agency for singing?!”
Daddy chuckles. “We’ve got enough musical talent already, don’tcha think Trucy? Anyway, Mr. Gavin was just finishing up—“
“Nein, I actually came to deliver a message to the lovely Fraulein here.” Prosecutor Gavin says, one thumb spinning his rings. “Any other business was purely incidental.”
Daddy’s eyes narrow.
“Well, so long as your intentions are honorable, have at it.” Daddy ambles back towards the office, calling over his shoulder. “As you mentioned, Prosecutor, I am friends with your boss.”
“Daddy!” She stomps petulantly to drive home the performance. “Don’t be gross! Ugh, I’m so sorry, Prosecutor Gavin—!”
“It’s no trouble, Fraulein .” He reassures her, though his jaw is clenched. “It’s touching, a vater’s protection of his tochter. Even if it does come at the expense of others…”
Well that’s cryptic and a half!
Some of her true feelings must show in her pout, as Prosecutor Gavin suddenly looks sheepish and chuckles. “Entschuldigen sie, Fraulein. There was a break in at the forensic labs last night, so I am slightly on edge, ja? But, luckily, our results were already logged. I received them when I dropped by today.”
“And?!” She’s on tenterhooks, just like when she used to watch Daddy and Uncle Valant. “What did they say?! Tell me!”
He looks her dead in the eye and tells her. “It’s a match.”
It feels like Trucy’s insides are confetti.
They did it! She was right!
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Prosecutor Gavin says. “I need to locate the suspect for last night’s break in and give her a thorough talking to. Auf Wiedersehen, Fraulein Magician!”
“Off Whee-der-sane!” Trucy parrots back as she waves him out the door.
She can’t stop smiling as she closes it and bounces slightly. This calls for a celebration! She’s sure they have some pancake mix that she can whip up!
When she goes to skip to the kitchen, she finds Daddy leaning against the doorway, faux-casual.
“Trucy,” Daddy says. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
She opens her mouth—!
Daddy pulls a hand out of his pocket. In it is his anti-lying rock.
Trucy gulps.
