Chapter Text
Klavier Gavin is late.
This is not something new; unless he makes the conscious effort to arrive 30 minutes early, he always finds himself just a few moments late.
Ah, well. Perhaps he can pawn it off on working in the music industry.
When he finally arrives, it is both like and unlike any other day at the WAA. Conversation fills the office from every corner: Trucy turns to yell over her shoulder about how Athena “should remember to grab the pot holder that Junie knitted” on her way back from her desk. Athena calls back that she has it and more—her girlfriend knitted three. Did you see the one that looks like Mikeko? It’s so cute and has a little pink nose in the middle!
Meanwhile, Herr Wright is giving a notable attempt to argue his position that yes, actually, they should send Jelly Bellies because who doesn’t love getting candy in the mail—while his husband flatly tells him that “just because that bag has been sitting in your desk drawer for weeks doesn’t mean you can siphon them off onto Mr. Justice; besides, I thought he didn’t have a sweet tooth.”
Funny how such an innocuous question can suddenly become one of those things Klavier kind of wishes he knew; a question he regrets not having thought of asking before this moment.
His fingertips tap the envelope in his hand. Deftly, he flips it over so he’s no longer staring at his own name, but the carefully wettened and sealed side with the closed flap. It’s not too late. Perhaps if he asks Herr Wright for a new envelope, he can tear out the letter and pencil into the margin a quick, Hey, by any chance, do you like candy? What kind do you like? Are you more of a chocolate man or gummies? What about hard candy?
Not that he could mail chocolates anyway, if that was Apollo’s answer. That probably wouldn’t survive the trip.
“Okay, I think that about does it!”
It’s like a Tetris game, almost: how expertly and carefully Trucy has manipulated and moved all the things an entire community of people can stuff inside an old Bath & Body Works box. Klavier’s idle tapping on the envelope in his hands speeds up as he looks at it. A song loops in his head.
“Do we have everything everyone wanted to send?” Athena asks, peering inside.
Trucy pops her lips and lifts her fingers to count. “Well, let’s see… we have three pot holders from Junie, a ramen packet from Detective Gumshoe, a ‘don’t die’ motivational paperweight from Prosecutor Blackquill, a yokai-warding charm from Jinxie, an assortment of colorful pens plus a notebook from Robin and Hugh, a challah recipe from the Kitakis, one small painting of LA from Vera, a gift card from Papa, some socks from Daddy since Papa vetoed the Jelly Bellies and Daddy had nothing better to send—”
“I’m taking care of the other box! I’m sending lots of things!”
“—and a couple of photos and twine and clothespins from me, aaaaaaaand—”
Her eyes snap up to Klavier’s, as bright and blue and welcoming as they had been when she first asked him if he wanted to put something inside their Apollo Justice Brigade care package.
Klavier offers a grin back and chuckles to hide the strange flutter in his stomach. It wouldn’t do to appear nervous about his humble addition; not when he made a career out of lyricizing sentiments. “Ach, Fraulein Magician, I’m afraid to say all I prepared was a simple letter.”
“That’s perfect!” Athena croons.
“He’ll love it!” Trucy assures and when he hands it out to her, she slips it into the box right along the side. “Who knows? Maybe Polly will write you back—wait! Did you put your address on it?”
At that, Klavier grins. He winks and gives a snap of his fingers. “Ah, but of course! This is not my first letter, Frau Magician. I’ve included my address, ja—but I must say: if we do keep in contact, I doubt we’ll do so through something as slow and unreliable as the mail. If you were to read my letter, you’ll find I’ve put something even better inside: my contact info. Why write when we have the wonders of Facetime and social media with which to send an occasional message to one another?”
“Gee, guess I can’t argue with that!” Trucy shrugs her shoulders and presses flat all four flaps of the box. It’s a perfect fit.
Athena frowns and taps her earring in thought. “I know we said we’d Facetime him, too, but isn’t the time difference between here and Khura’in like… a lot? It’s 7 PM here right now, but over there it’s like… 8 AM tomorrow morning, right?”
“13 hours in the future.” Herr Wright says while bent over another box on Apollo’s desk into which they’re stuffing some of the less sentimental and more important documents and personal things Apollo asked for.
“That’ll make it pretty hard to find convenient times to video-chat,” Athena hums.
“With that attitude, maybe!” Trucy plants her fists on her hips. “C’mon, Athena! This is Polly we’re talking about! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t stay up until midnight just to get the chance to talk with him!”
Athena rolls her eyes and retorts something that Klavier misses because all he can think, rather pathetically, is, Gott, I’d stay up even longer than that—even for just a few minutes of his time.
Klavier’s eyes drift down to the box. The flaps are peeking open, not yet taped shut.
He grabs the packing tape from the floating table beside the sofa and begins to tape it shut, idly listening to Trucy and Athena bicker behind him about appropriate and inappropriate times to contact Apollo Justice. The roll of tape screeches horribly as it unwinds, but he tears off the end against the metal teeth of the roller and then presses the clear, wide strip as flat as it will go over the box’s flaps.
Klavier hopes, above all, that this box—and his letter—and everyone’s well wishes and love—reaches Apollo in Khura’in safely.
