*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!*
*Tigre's been shifted to the end of the cell block for a long time now, his name lost in the annals of some record book. He's been essentially forgotten by the system, or else some part of it is choking on him. He's fine with that. He likes being alive.
The only downside is that he's been sitting in this cell for nearly a decade, and the blonde across the hall is the closest thing he's seen to a lady since they hung ol' Ini or whatever-the-fuck by the neck. He takes a moment to get himself an eyeful*
*Kristoph pauses in his reading to clean his glasses, and while he does, he senses a pair of eyes on him. He glances over and with his vision blurred sees only a disturbingly familiar spiky-haired silhouette. Startled and unprepared, he jerks around and faces the wall.*
*looks like this one likes to play shy! Ain't that sweet. He walks up to the bars, grabs one, still saying nothing. He reaches out between the bars with his free hand, crooks one finger in a "come hither" motion*
*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*
*Sharp footsteps echo down the hallways of the prison as Edgeworth makes his way to the cell of a man whose existence he had cared little for before just recently. A defense attorney and a murderer, the fact that he'd attempted to frame Phoenix Wright was not enough to rouse Miles' ire now that he was behind bars. A criminal is a criminal, after all. But with the most recent development, things had changed.*
*He stops in front of the cell and glares in, piqued by the grandiose decor*
*Kristoph glances to the bars and, seeing who it is, rolls his eyes.* Prosecutor Edgeworth. What an unexpected pleasure. *He adjusts his glasses* How might I assist you?
*curt, businesslike* I came down to see if your needs were being provided to in an appropriate manner. If your surroundings were safe for someone in your position.
*it a matter of small trouble but some notice when the Judge enters the jail with the intent of visiting one particular inmate; he is frisked, but the search is only a token thing, and then he is admitted into the block. It is a noisy, raucous place, as it has always been, and most of the inmates still remember him though he has long since forgotten their faces. He finds Kristoph Gavin easily, as per the instruction of the guards*
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The only downside is that he's been sitting in this cell for nearly a decade, and the blonde across the hall is the closest thing he's seen to a lady since they hung ol' Ini or whatever-the-fuck by the neck. He takes a moment to get himself an eyeful*
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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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*He stops in front of the cell and glares in, piqued by the grandiose decor*
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