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Just A Little Game of Poker, Wright	By : Blackwidina Category: +M through R > Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Views: 1617 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Ace Attorney series, and I make no money from the writing of this story.

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Just a Little Game of Poker
Phoenix Wright was pulled from his law book (well, technically one of Mia's,) as the office door opened to reveal Apollo and Trucy, both laughing at some shared joke. His heart constricted oddly at the sight of them acting like a couple of kids. Trucy'd always been suspiciously like Pearl Fey—half adult and half child, and it was kind of hilarious watching Apollo be dragged, kicking and screaming, from his shell. It brought back a lot of memories, all of which were much more appreciated because they weren't being recreated on him, this time.
“Hi, Daddy!” Trucy gushed. “Polly and me went shopping and he helped me get some more school clothes!”
Phoenix twitched a little. Apollo was glaring at him, as if daring him to say something. He'd insisted on 'helping' the two of them more and more, lately, especially as his reputation grew. Despite Nick paying him back for the electric bill on the very next case that rolled in, Apollo stubbornly kept pitching in. He was smarter about it though, thinking that Nick wouldn't notice or mind the extra food that kept appearing in the cabinets (he insisted that it was for him, but only Phoenix ate that particular flavor of Snackoos,) or the new set of interlocking rings that appeared after Trucy accidentally lost hers down a storm drain. And now, school clothes. Just the other day, Trucy had been complaining that all of her 'mundane' clothes were worn to rags, and now Apollo was buying her new ones.
He took a deep breath to force himself to relax, lest the two of them pick it up. Trucy showed off her new acquisitions briefly, then had to run and change for her show that night.
Apollo whistled to himself as he pulled a chair up to a corner of Nick's desk, reaching for his briefcase.
“Have fun?” he asked mildly.
The young lawyer's answering grin was infectious. “I think so. We stopped by the Detention Center, where-believe it or not, my client was actually talkative. Then we snooped around with Ema at the crime scene. I've got all I need to punch a hole in the prosecution's allegations tomorrow!”
“A cooperative client? You've stumbled upon a rare breed, my friend.”
“No kidding. Of course, now I've probably jinxed myself, but I've pulled myself out of worse. Trucy'll be there though, so I'm not too worried.”
“Trucy'll what?” said the girl as she left the bedroom, looking much more herself. “Pull a rabbit out of her hat? Defy gravity? Make the courtroom disappear? Whatever you need, you've got the Wright magician for the job!” She struck a dramatic pose.
Apollo and Phoenix groaned together at the pun.
“I'm still not sure the world's quite ready for you, Truce,” Phoenix smirked. “Going to work?”
“Yup! Got all my gear ready. You're not working tonight, are you?”
“Nope. Pull a double tomorrow, though. Apparently, the owner invited a troupe of famous poker champs to...er, try the Borscht.”
She giggled, “Riiight. Do you want me to come with you?”
The older man considered, his brows drawing together. “If you're working tonight, and going to court with Apollo tomorrow morning, you'll be much too tired to help me.”
“Oh!” Trucy looked surprised. “I hadn't thought of that!”
Apollo blinked, then scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “Truce, you don't need to go to court with me tomorrow. You should get some sleep, and help your dad tomorrow night.”
“But...I want to go with you, Polly!”
“I'll have other cases, y'know.”
“We worked so hard, though! I want to see you rub the evidence in the prosecutor's smug face! Not that I don't like Klavier, but really, by now he should know better than to try and beat you!” She looked fierce in thought for a moment, then brightened. “I know! Polly, I'll go with you to court, and then you can go help Daddy with his games!”
“Say what?”
“Wait, take Apollo with me? Are you serious?”
“Why not? Apollo has the same gift as me, right? Except he can things even I can't!” Trucy jumped up and down excitedly. “And you can show him our signals! Oh, Polly, you'd be great at it!”
“Uh...don't you think it's a bad idea for an attorney to go around breaking the law?”
“Polly! Your own mentor was a murderer, remember? I think a little gambling is a small price to pay, so to speak. You said you wanted to help! This way you can!”
“...Do I get a say in this, Truce?”
“Absolutely not, Daddy. You're taking Polly and that's final.”
“.....” “.....”
“All right then, I'm off to work! See you in the morning, Polly!”
The door shut behind her, leaving two very befuddled males behind.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twenty minutes later, Apollo and Phoenix faced off over the coffee table. It had taken a while to find a deck of cards—Trucy had several, but most of them were altered or trick decks. They were mostly sure that this one was clean, though, and Apollo was trying to memorize all the possible hands.
“Mr. Wright, I--”
“Phoenix. Or Nick.”
“Whatever. It's not like I'm going to be able to see the opposing hand, anyway, so why am I having to learn this?”
“Because part of the signals involves the level of tension. The opponent will be much more emotional if he's holding a full house than if he's got two of a kind. Make sense? The signals are variable, depending on what you can sense, and that's what I work with.”
“So, what happens if I can't tell between a winning hand and a bluff?”
“A winning hand would have more positive emotions. Trucy said it's like the difference between watching a person who's waiting for her to pull off a big trick, and watching someone who's expecting a guilty verdict.”
“That . . . sort of makes sense. So, we're just going to play? Do we need chips, or something?”
Phoenix looked thoughtful. “That might be a good idea, if I'm trying to show how this works. Higher stakes, higher emotions, right? Tell you what. Whoever wins each hand, gets to ask a question. Any question. Sound good?”
Apollo's eyes widened comically, his mind immediately crowded with all the questions he'd ever wanted to ask his hero. “Uh...okay.”
The other smirked. “And, in the interest of fairness, I guess I'd better make it easy on you.” To his partner's shock, he started pulling off his hoodie, almost losing his undershirt in the process.
Apollo blushed, hard, trying not to look as the older man tugged his white T-shirt back down over his stomach. Then he forgot all about modesty as the beanie was the next to go. “Holy shit—it's really that spiky?” He clapped his hands over his mouth, humiliated that his internal censor had let that one slide.
Phoenix just laughed, genuinely amused. “Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. It's all natural.”
He couldn't help himself. “I object! That hairstyle defies nature.”
“Okay, so I was born in a wind tunnel. Sue me.”
&_&_&_&_&_&
After a few moments, they managed to settle down enough to begin their game. They did a couple of practice rounds, just to get Apollo acclimatized to the procedure and various hands, and then—using some spare change Trucy had left in an ashtray, started to play.
Apollo quickly discovered that Phoenix was good. Really good. And there was a reason that he wore the iconic hobo getup—while his face was perfectly unreadable, he had two blatant tells—his shoulders would tighten up, and—if he had a really good hand, his ears would twitch, slightly, as the tension crept up from his shoulders to his neck. The hoodie and beanie would hide-or at least distract-anyone watching those two areas.
Regardless, Phoenix won the first real round, and smirked, “So. What made you decide to be a defense attorney?”
An easy question, if somewhat embarrassing. But then, who didn't already know? “Because I thought you were the coolest guy on the face on the planet, duh.” At his boss' smirk, he quickly added, “I've learned better since then.”
All he got was a laugh. The next hand also went to Phoenix. “You were only a teenager when I was practicing. Why were you so interested in courtroom proceedings?”
Urg. That was a little more personal. “I . . . I'm an orphan.” He noticed Phoenix's face becoming suddenly more serious. “I did foster care for a while, after I turned thirteen. After a certain age, they figure you're not going to be adopted, I guess. While I was at one of the homes, a kid was killed at the orphanage. Another kid, one I knew, was accused. You defended him.”
“I remember that case,” Phoenix said quietly. “It turned out to be one of the caretakers.”
Apollo nodded, “I know. But the prosecution took that caretaker's word that one of the older kids had done it. Just because he was an orphan. Because, you know, us kids without real families aren't capable of being anything other than hoodlums, I guess.” He winced. “Billy, the kid you defended, he was like me. Too old to adopt, too young to just throw out into the world. Everyone thought it was just natural that he was bitter and angry and took it out on one of others. You were the only one that thought to dig deeper. You spent two days in court, fighting a system that sure as hell seems to let the prosecution slide on nothing more than 'decisive testimony,' and won.” He grinned, “And for the record, I'm not the only member of your fan club. If you'd gone back to the orphanage after winning the case, you'd have been mobbed.”
Phoenix grinned sheepishly, looking both pleased and embarrassed. “Well, it was . . . you know. The right thing to do. I only defend innocent clients, you know. Well, aside from an exception, here and there. And then I made sure they were found guilty.”
“Matt Engarde, you mean?”
“Hey. You ask questions when you win.”
Three hands later, Phoenix now knew that Apollo genuinely liked the color red, that he was a dog person, and that he was a fellow acrophobic. Nice, innocent questions, but now he geared up to ask something a lot tougher.
Apollo noted his boss' shoulders moving again, and had to fight not to look suspicious. They hadn't even dealt the cards, yet. Phoenix must be planning to ask another personal question. Probably something he wouldn't want to answer. He looked down at his hand, brow furrowing as he moved them around, trying to see if he had anything decent.
“Cards?”
“...Two.”
Phoenix slid over a couple of cards, and Apollo stared at them, trying to figure out his hand and watch his boss at the same time. Multitasking like this made him feel a couple of steps behind, so he was a little slow when Phoenix made his first bet. A second, later, Apollo realized he had a full house. “Uh, sure. And I'll raise you.” He pushed a little pile of coins forward.
Phoenix's face, naturally, didn't change. He merely tilted his head, bored expression in place, and raised the stakes.
Apollo considered, then raised again. It was the first time he'd done such a thing, and thus, for the first time, he was able to see the heightened energy around Phoenix. But his ears were still.
He was bluffing.
“Moment of truth,” Phoenix said, carelessly. “You?”
Apollo laid his hand down. Phoenix smirked and tossed his down. “Good job, Polly. You called my bluff. Now, how did you know?”
“You already know how I know.”
“Nonsense. If I knew what my own giveaways were, I wouldn't do them.”
Out of habit, Apollo replied, “Objection. You wear a hat and hoodie because you already know what your tells are. That's also why you took them off at the beginning, to, and I quote: 'make it easy' on me.”
Phoenix chuckled, “Okay, you win that round, too.”
Apollo rolled his eyes. “You let me win, didn't you. There's no way I didn't give myself away.”
“True. In fact, I was considering letting you wear the beanie. That's some mighty expressive hair you've got there.”
He self-consciously tugged at his spikes. “So I've been told.”
“Well? What's your question, then?”
“Uhhh...” Apollo's mind raced for a moment, but his curiosity had been piqued earlier, “Your first guilty client. Matt Engarde.”
“Only guilty client, thank you. What about him?”
“Well, I know what the public was told, and what was on the court records, but I was kind of curious about the prosecutor on that case.”
OW. His bracelet suddenly pinched like nothing else.
“...What about him?” Phoenix's tone was suddenly much less inviting, and Apollo realized this was a subject he'd best tread lightly on.
“Well, I mean, I know who he is—Miles Edgeworth—and I just. . . he reminds me a lot of Klavier Gavin, and I was wondering if you two were friends.”
Phoenix relaxed a little bit, there, allowing Apollo to rub at where it had begun digging a trench in his wrist. “Yes. Miles and I were friends. We met as kids, then again as lawyers. I decided to become a defense attorney because of the way he talked about his dad, and because he himself defended me back then.”
Apollo looked at him skeptically, “Is that all? Your reaction is killing me, here.”
The other glanced down at Apollo's bracelet and grimaced. “There's more. A lot more. But even if you ask, I don't think I want to share. It was a long time ago, and it's been a long time since I've seen Miles. He's practiced law abroad for several years. Now, let's play again.”
“I think we need another handicap. Give me that beanie.”
TBC
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Just A Little Game of Poker, Wright