*Kristoph is sitting in his elaborately decorated cell, reading a book. This is all he does, ever. So if you would like to visit him post 4-4, feel free to drop by. Don't be shy now!*
*while a heavy-set guard searches through the contents of the paper bag he'd brought with him, another one--tall, gaunt--checks him over for the third time, making sure that the pin attached to his hat is really just a pin now. They're a lot more thorough and a lot less conversational with him this time around--not that he really blames them for it.
Afterwards, he's led down a concrete corridor by both of the guards. The path is familiar enough that he uses the florescent lights overhead as a guide instead of the cell numbers; he guesses and comes to a stop in front of the correct place. Then, he shifts his stance, places his free hand into his hoodie pocket, and waits for the guards to open the barred door--or for the man inside the cell to greet him... whichever comes first, really*
*Kristoph has been expecting him, but he still flinches at the sound of Phoenix's voice. He takes his time, marking the page in his book, replacing it on the shelf, so that by the time he turns to face Phoenix the cell is open and he's smiling.*
*raises an eyebrow-- he's got a grin to match Kristoph's smile*
...Don't tell me you've been getting other visitors.
*walks on into the cell, glancing casually back over his shoulder at the guards. Though they seem wary, they shut the door and leave. He wonders vaguely whether they've actually left hearing range--and whether or not that'd be a good thing*
*he sighs a little, but it's with much amusement. Inwardly, he has to remind himself that he shouldn't take such satisfaction in the other man's moodiness. He won't go down that route, not now*
*allowing himself a brief chuckle, he raises the paper bag in his hands--ignoring that Kristoph is in no position to see it. He waves it briefly in the air, and it rustles pleasantly*
Was at a wedding this weekend--can't believe they finally got hitched. Brought you some of the wedding cake.
*he pauses for a moment--and though it isn't immensely evident, the slight smile and lift of his eyebrow after speaking (instead of a smarmy smirk) indicate that the significance of his words were probably unintentional. He pulls back his hand, and tucks the paper bag underneath an arm*
*chuckles* That's not true. I did enjoy your company... at times.
*his voice softens, but he keeps his gaze firmly on Kristoph*
We both may have used each other, Gavin, but that's over now. I don't have any anything left to ask, and you won't give any answers. It'll be a long wait until the end, though... And I'd rather you not have to go through it alone.
Afterwards, he's led down a concrete corridor by both of the guards. The path is familiar enough that he uses the florescent lights overhead as a guide instead of the cell numbers; he guesses and comes to a stop in front of the correct place. Then, he shifts his stance, places his free hand into his hoodie pocket, and waits for the guards to open the barred door--or for the man inside the cell to greet him... whichever comes first, really*
Knock, knock.
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Who's there?
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...Don't tell me you've been getting other visitors.
*walks on into the cell, glancing casually back over his shoulder at the guards. Though they seem wary, they shut the door and leave. He wonders vaguely whether they've actually left hearing range--and whether or not that'd be a good thing*
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Your sense of comedy always was atrocious.
*He sits back down, not caring that the chair is faced away from Phoenix.*
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Alright, fine. 'Gerald.' 'Gerald who?' 'Gerald pal, Phoenix Wright.'
*allowing himself a brief chuckle, he raises the paper bag in his hands--ignoring that Kristoph is in no position to see it. He waves it briefly in the air, and it rustles pleasantly*
Was at a wedding this weekend--can't believe they finally got hitched. Brought you some of the wedding cake.
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*and, obligingly, he rounds the chair until he faces Kristoph, and offers up the package*
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I don't want it.
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*he pauses for a moment--and though it isn't immensely evident,
the slight smile and lift of his eyebrow after speaking (instead of a smarmy smirk) indicate that the significance of his words were probably unintentional. He pulls back his hand, and tucks the paper bag underneath an arm*
... Sorry, sorry.
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What are you doing here?
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I came to see you. To talk. Does there have to be another reason?
...I'm not here to gloat, if that's what you're thinking.
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*his voice softens, but he keeps his gaze firmly on Kristoph*
We both may have used each other, Gavin, but that's over now. I don't have any anything left to ask, and you won't give any answers. It'll be a long wait until the end, though... And I'd rather you not have to go through it alone.
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*Kristoph shudders tensely in his chair, and there's a hint of desperation behind the anger in his voice.*
You think by playing "nice" with me you can keep my death off your conscience? Or is it just plain pity? Why should I give you the satisfaction!?
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Your death isn't on my conscience, Gavin.
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Then save your pity; it's a waste of both our time!
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