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Simon Says - Chapter 1: Rigorous Justice
Blackquill sat in the back of the theater, crossing his arms. Before he was even conscious of it, he found that he'd identified the exits, nearby items which could be used as weapons, and the members of the audience that could theoretically cause him physical harm.
He wondered if he would ever stop doing that.
Of course, he had no true worries towards the events of the day. He would watch the magic show (bah, how old did Athena think he was?), exchange a bit of awkward chatter with the Wright Anything Agency (at least Athena and the Chief Prosecutor would be there), and perhaps go out for noodles or burgers (though if it were up to him, he would prefer a bit of o-sushi). All-in-all, not a bad day.
Still, he hoped that the show would not be too terribly dull. He'd seen a few of the "magic tricks" that other inmates would perform. There were pickpockets in the clink that would steal the fillings out of your teeth if you weren't watching them closely. He didn't see any appeal whatsoever…
Until Trucy pulled out the first dove.
Soon he found himself watching for the tricks - most simple sleight of hand, but a few genuinely confounding. He would have to interrogate her later. And when she locked Justice-dono into a box and filled it with swords… why, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.
Afterward, as he sat backstage with his arms filled with cooing doves, Trucy asked him a loaded question: "Is it hard to care for doves?"
"Not particularly," he replied. "Are these not yours?"
"No, I'm borrowing them from a shop. Daddy says no pets."
"The lease is the one that says no pets," Wright replied, sounding very much as though he'd had this exact discussion before.
"A pity. Woe is the warrior who must ride into battle without her comrades by her side."
"You see, Daddy? Prosecutor Blackquill understands! He kept Taka even though he was in prison!"
"That's nothing unusual. I was enrolled in the animal rehabilitation program. His presence there was allowed... eventually." He peered up at Taka, who sat atop the sword box, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stared at the doves.
"Come to think of it..." Athena was tapping her earring. "I'd forgotten about this until now, but hadn't you decided against taking Taka with you? I remember the conversation you had with your sister."
It had not been a conversation. It had been a mid-trial shouting match.
"Ah… yes, that much is true. I'd instructed her to set him free. However, things didn't turn out so neatly. Did they, my sly raptor?" He shot a knowing look up to Taka, whose interest remained focused solely on the prospects of a squab dinner. "When I refused to take him with me, he simply followed along, without my or anyone else's permission."
"And the guards simply allowed that?" Edgeworth seemed incredulous.
"I know! You used your psychology on them, right?" Athena grinned.
"No, not at all. That was long before my days of blackmailing and manipulating my captors." He chuckled. There were fond memories buried in there somewhere. "In fact, were it not for the intervention of a powerful prisoner, my partner and I might have been separated for good."
"Huh? So somebody helped you?"
"In a manner of speaking…"
CHAPTER ONE: RIGOROUS JUSTICE
"I hereby find the defendant Simon Blackquill guilty of the murder of Metis Cykes."
The verdict. Athena crying, Aura screaming. His life should have ended there and then, with the banging of that gavel, but there were yet things to be done. Transportation to the detention center. Waiting for the paperwork to be filed. Giving up his belongings. Undergoing a body cavity search. Being doused in delousing chemicals. Changing into his prison stripes.
None of it seemed real. In his mind's eye, he was still in that courtroom, receiving that terrible verdict.
Simon Blackquill, guilty of the murder of Metis Cykes.
A guard read him the rules. He was given an extra uniform and some basic toiletries. Another pair of guards arrived to escort him to his cell.
Had he done the right thing? Would Athena be all right? Would Aura? Or Taka? Would anyone?
...guilty of the murder of Metis Cykes...
They passed a number of dark, tiny cells, some full of rocks, others with chains on the walls. Blackquill wondered which of them would be his. But as they passed through the facility and up the stairs, he realized that he was being taken to a more modern wing, one with larger rooms and windows. He could even smell the scent of coffee on the air.
As if reading his mind, the guard said, "Former prosecutors and law enforcement have their own wing. You're less likely to get stabbed this way."
And Simon felt a strange contradiction of relief and anger, knowing that he would be able to see the sky, but only because of a corruption of the system affording privilege to those who least deserved it.
...guilty...
The guard stopped in front of a cell — his cell — and opened the door. Without any further ado, Simon stepped inside, not watching as the bars banged shut behind him.
This was it. This was the room where he would spend the rest of his life. A cot, a toilet, a sink, a desk, and a window.
Guilty, guilty, guilty. He could still hear Athena's sobs.
Dropping his spare uniform onto the floor, he wasted no time in collapsing onto the bed. Tears began to pour down his face. This was his reality now. He'd failed the law and his loved ones alike, and would live out the rest of his days as a caged beast.
A cat crawled up onto him.
Now, Simon had never been much for cats, seeing them as the unrepentant serial murderers of many a beautiful avian, and he shoved the beast unceremoniously to the floor. The cat, deeply offended, yowled and hopped back up. Once again, Simon pushed it down, this time glaring daggers.
"Begone," he snarled in a voice that might have made any sensible creature cower. As it was a cat, however, the animal simply returned his stare.
"She's a real nuisance, isn't she? Gets my allergies going something fierce." The voice came from the cell to his right, and indeed sounded stuffy.
Blackquill snatched up the animal by the scruff of its neck and took it to the bars of his cell. The pudgy monster only barely fit through them. He was about to release it when a scaly brown head peeked out from the neighboring cell, sliding along the concrete floor — a boa constrictor. The cat went into panic mode, frantically digging its claws into Simon's arm before flying into the cell to the opposite side.
Blackquill, ignoring his bleeding limb and not even sparing a glance at what little he could see of his irresponsible neighbor, returned to his bed and flopped back down. Of course, he just would end up stuck in the same cell block as a bunch of dotards in the animal rehabilitation program.
"Are you all right, Blackquill?" asked the snake-owner. "It looked like she took a chunk out of you."
This, however, caught his attention. "How do you know my name?"
"I'm hurt. Don't you recognize me?"
After a moment's thought, Simon realized that he did. He was listening to the voice of the ex-Chief-Prosecutor who had, no more than a few months before falling from grace, promoted him to the high prosecutor's office.
A lump of disgust settled in his stomach. "Debeste."
"Right you are," said Debeste. "Y'know, I'm sure you've had a long day. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning, all right?"
Blackquill did not get any rest. He cried until lights out, and continued well into the night. It seemed as though he had barely shut his eyes when he awoke again, finding himself not alone in his bed.
Thinking this moving lump to be the damnable feline from before, he rolled over, thinking to swat it on the nose or however else one disciplined a cat — how did one discipline a cat? — only to find himself staring into the soulful, piercing eyes of his own beloved pet hawk.
"Taka?"
Taka cried out in return, and Simon sat up slowly, reaching out to stroke feathers he feared might disappear under his touch. How had he gotten there? Simply flown in throught he window? He'd told Aura to set the bird free... had she driven up to the prison to do so?
Well. He wouldn't have put it past her.
"You can't be here," he whispered.
It wasn't strictly true. He had been deemed eligible for animal therapy, and was technically permitted to submit a pet from home. But the problem was that once he was entered into the program, Taka would no longer be able to leave the premises; he'd be microchipped and have his wings clipped. And while Simon had doomed himself to living in captivity, he refused to do the same to Taka.
Lights came on in the hallway, and a cold panic ran down Simon's spine. What would happen to Taka if the guards were to find him there? He tried to shoo the young hawk, only to have him dig his claws into the bed and whine.
He wanted his breakfast, Simon realized. Taka, who could have no way of understanding what occurred, had sought out their normal morning routine as if nothing were wrong. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
"Roll call!" The guard's booming voice interrupted Simon's thoughts. He needed to get Taka out of there. He patted his shoulder and the bird hopped up contentedly, probably under the misconception that finally things were going as they ought.
"I don't have anything for you," Simon hissed, heading to the window. "You have to go. Go!" He signalled for Taka to fly out.
But Taka was having none of it. He dug his talons in and demanded his breakfast.
"Blackquill!" the guard called.
"Leave me!" Simon barked, attempting but not entirely succeeding at sternness. Blood trickled down his shoulder, though of course he didn't blame Taka for that; he normally wore thicker clothing, after all.
"Blackquill!" The door swung open and the guard stepped into his cell.
Simon froze. There he was, caught red-handed (or red-shouldered, as it were) with a stubborn predator that simply would not leave. "My hawk..." he began dumbly, internally cursing himself. Just how was he going to explain his possession of an unauthorized animal?
"It's time for roll call. Bring your hawk and get your ass in line."
"Ah... yes." Awkwardly, numbly, and waiting for the other shoe to drop, Simon joined the inmates in the hall for the morning headcount.
So began Simon Blackquill's first day in prison.
Taka's forbidden presence went unnoticed at roll call, the bird remaining on Blackquill's shoulder while the cell block was marched toward the showers. Simon had already dreaded this moment; though he was certain he could defend himself against whatever brutish attackers may come, he couldn't begin to say what the juvenile bird would do in the case of a sudden scuffle. He had only ever known kindness from humans.
Simon was led to a changing room and provided a basket for clothing. He began stripping, much to Taka's annoyance, and the hawk hopped into his basket, staring up at him and vocalizing his displeasure.
"There's no showering with the animals," said a guard. "You'll have to put it outside."
Even worse, if Taka decided to wander about freely in this madhouse — it did not bear to think. He would not let his dear friend out of his sight. "Taka always accompanies me in the shower," he bluffed. "Should I try to refuse him, he'll become quite incensed."
The guard peered at Taka, and then at the bleeding marks on Simon's shoulder and arms. He swallowed. "I don't make the rules," he said, but the uncertainty was clear in his voice.
"If you wish him removed, you shall have to do it yourself."
Simon could see the evaluation in the guard's eyes, weighing a potential slap on the wrist against the certainty of sharp talons digging into one. He didn't evaluate for long.
"If that bird causes any trouble in there, it'll be your hide, Blackquill."
There was no going back. He beckoned Taka onto his hand, stroking the bird's feathers to calm him (to calm both of them), and headed into the shower.
Taka had never been exposed to a shower before, and Simon had no clue how he would react. He could only hope that his presence would keep his feathered friend calm amidst all of this new stimuli. But once the water was running, he saw that he needn't have worried. Taka took to the shower as he would a summer rain, fluttering his wings and preening his feathers. The sight was so utterly charming that Simon very nearly forgot his circumstances; that is, until someone spoke to him.
"That's a nice eagle you have there," said Debeste as he lathered up his beard.
"Hawk," corrected Simon, his own feathers ruffled at the remark.
"The animal therapy program in this prison is amazing. Best in the country." He lathered beneath the beard as well.
"Imagine that, with however many such programs this country has," Simon replied disinterestedly.
"It took me a week to have Sebastian processed. It's amazing you got your bird in so quickly," Debeste continued, grinning like an animal baring its fangs. "They really are improving their service."
It was obvious what he was getting at, but Simon, whose study of psychology had been tempered in the courtroom, knew he could not back down here. He met Debeste's wild stare (still wearing goggles even in the shower) and said, "Are you implying something? That I smuggled him in under my shirt, perhaps?"
"No, no, of course not." Debeste held up his hands. "I was merely impressed with their sudden efficiency. I'll look forward to seeing you in class later tonight."
It seemed a harmless enough comment, but Debeste's smile had grown outright sharklike. It didn't take long for Simon to figure out why. The electronic bracelet that had been attached to his wrist when he was incarcerated prevented him from going into areas where he was not permitted. As he was not a member of the animal therapy program, he would not be permitted to enter into their meetings, at which point Taka would be noticed.
What would he tell them? Taka had flown in of his own volition, and similarly refused to leave. What would he tell Debeste right there, right then, standing naked beside him? His mind raced.
"As I thought," said Debeste. "That bird could get you into a lot of trouble. Why didn't you just register it?"
"Taka is a noble animal," Simon said. "I may be caged, but I will not cage him."
"I see, I see." Debeste nodded. "Well, who am I to come between a young man and his pet?" He wiped the steam off his goggles. "But somehow I don't think you have anything to worry about. I'm sure it'll all work itself out, y'know?"
Blackquill severely doubted it would. But his shower went without major event, and he proceeded through the day with Taka by his side. As the hours passed and the animal rehabilitation class approached, he racked his brain to try and find a way out of this mess. Should he fess up? Play sick? Con a guard into letting him into the meeting? Shove Taka out the window and caw like a crow until he flew away in disgust?
As he was running through his options, a guard came to his door. "Blackquill, I have some paperwork for you to sign."
"What?" His brow furrowed. "What manner of paperwork?"
"You're the ex-lawyer," replied the guard, shrugging as he passed a manila folder through the bars.
Blackquill dumped the papers onto his desk. There was a letter from the warden, in regards to a supposed application into the animal rehabilitation program, stating that the program head would need to get in touch with Taka's veterinarian to transfer over medical records, and that Simon himself would be required to agree to a strict code of conduct, but Taka had been accepted into the program. They could begin sessions right away. Furthermore, with special permission, he would not be caged, clipped or, tagged. He could come and go from the building as he pleased.
Simon could barely believe what he was looking at. Was this some sort of joke?
"Are you going to sign it or aren't you?" asked the guard.
Of course he was.
As the guard left, Debeste's voice rang out from the next cell, his voice all smugness with only the touch of feigned innocence. "Oh? What was that all about?"
"That… was your doing?"
"Well! I may have had a word or two with an old friend…"
Simon knew the sorts of things that Blaise Debeste had done. But at that moment, knowing that he'd be able to spend the last of his days with his beloved Taka, he no longer found it in his heart to care. Though the wall between them prevented the other man from seeing it, he bowed low.
"You have my gratitude."
—————————
"Aww, that's great," said Athena. "Your first prison friend!"
"No." Though the others were enthralled with the story, Edgeworth's expression had darkened. "Blaise Debeste was no one's friend."
Blackquill gazed away. "It's as he says. That man was more of a snake than his pet, and allowing myself to fall into his debt was one of the greatest mistakes I could have made."
"Ah." She blanched. "Well, that kills the mood."
It did not do so for long, however. The after-party soon headed out for dinner — noodles and burgers, at the request of the venerable Master Fey, a person Blackquill was most honored to meet — and his tales of the clink faded away into the night.
He wondered if he would ever stop doing that.
Of course, he had no true worries towards the events of the day. He would watch the magic show (bah, how old did Athena think he was?), exchange a bit of awkward chatter with the Wright Anything Agency (at least Athena and the Chief Prosecutor would be there), and perhaps go out for noodles or burgers (though if it were up to him, he would prefer a bit of o-sushi). All-in-all, not a bad day.
Still, he hoped that the show would not be too terribly dull. He'd seen a few of the "magic tricks" that other inmates would perform. There were pickpockets in the clink that would steal the fillings out of your teeth if you weren't watching them closely. He didn't see any appeal whatsoever…
Until Trucy pulled out the first dove.
Soon he found himself watching for the tricks - most simple sleight of hand, but a few genuinely confounding. He would have to interrogate her later. And when she locked Justice-dono into a box and filled it with swords… why, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.
Afterward, as he sat backstage with his arms filled with cooing doves, Trucy asked him a loaded question: "Is it hard to care for doves?"
"Not particularly," he replied. "Are these not yours?"
"No, I'm borrowing them from a shop. Daddy says no pets."
"The lease is the one that says no pets," Wright replied, sounding very much as though he'd had this exact discussion before.
"A pity. Woe is the warrior who must ride into battle without her comrades by her side."
"You see, Daddy? Prosecutor Blackquill understands! He kept Taka even though he was in prison!"
"That's nothing unusual. I was enrolled in the animal rehabilitation program. His presence there was allowed... eventually." He peered up at Taka, who sat atop the sword box, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stared at the doves.
"Come to think of it..." Athena was tapping her earring. "I'd forgotten about this until now, but hadn't you decided against taking Taka with you? I remember the conversation you had with your sister."
It had not been a conversation. It had been a mid-trial shouting match.
"Ah… yes, that much is true. I'd instructed her to set him free. However, things didn't turn out so neatly. Did they, my sly raptor?" He shot a knowing look up to Taka, whose interest remained focused solely on the prospects of a squab dinner. "When I refused to take him with me, he simply followed along, without my or anyone else's permission."
"And the guards simply allowed that?" Edgeworth seemed incredulous.
"I know! You used your psychology on them, right?" Athena grinned.
"No, not at all. That was long before my days of blackmailing and manipulating my captors." He chuckled. There were fond memories buried in there somewhere. "In fact, were it not for the intervention of a powerful prisoner, my partner and I might have been separated for good."
"Huh? So somebody helped you?"
"In a manner of speaking…"
"I hereby find the defendant Simon Blackquill guilty of the murder of Metis Cykes."
The verdict. Athena crying, Aura screaming. His life should have ended there and then, with the banging of that gavel, but there were yet things to be done. Transportation to the detention center. Waiting for the paperwork to be filed. Giving up his belongings. Undergoing a body cavity search. Being doused in delousing chemicals. Changing into his prison stripes.
None of it seemed real. In his mind's eye, he was still in that courtroom, receiving that terrible verdict.
Simon Blackquill, guilty of the murder of Metis Cykes.
A guard read him the rules. He was given an extra uniform and some basic toiletries. Another pair of guards arrived to escort him to his cell.
Had he done the right thing? Would Athena be all right? Would Aura? Or Taka? Would anyone?
...guilty of the murder of Metis Cykes...
They passed a number of dark, tiny cells, some full of rocks, others with chains on the walls. Blackquill wondered which of them would be his. But as they passed through the facility and up the stairs, he realized that he was being taken to a more modern wing, one with larger rooms and windows. He could even smell the scent of coffee on the air.
As if reading his mind, the guard said, "Former prosecutors and law enforcement have their own wing. You're less likely to get stabbed this way."
And Simon felt a strange contradiction of relief and anger, knowing that he would be able to see the sky, but only because of a corruption of the system affording privilege to those who least deserved it.
...guilty...
The guard stopped in front of a cell — his cell — and opened the door. Without any further ado, Simon stepped inside, not watching as the bars banged shut behind him.
This was it. This was the room where he would spend the rest of his life. A cot, a toilet, a sink, a desk, and a window.
Guilty, guilty, guilty. He could still hear Athena's sobs.
Dropping his spare uniform onto the floor, he wasted no time in collapsing onto the bed. Tears began to pour down his face. This was his reality now. He'd failed the law and his loved ones alike, and would live out the rest of his days as a caged beast.
A cat crawled up onto him.
Now, Simon had never been much for cats, seeing them as the unrepentant serial murderers of many a beautiful avian, and he shoved the beast unceremoniously to the floor. The cat, deeply offended, yowled and hopped back up. Once again, Simon pushed it down, this time glaring daggers.
"Begone," he snarled in a voice that might have made any sensible creature cower. As it was a cat, however, the animal simply returned his stare.
"She's a real nuisance, isn't she? Gets my allergies going something fierce." The voice came from the cell to his right, and indeed sounded stuffy.
Blackquill snatched up the animal by the scruff of its neck and took it to the bars of his cell. The pudgy monster only barely fit through them. He was about to release it when a scaly brown head peeked out from the neighboring cell, sliding along the concrete floor — a boa constrictor. The cat went into panic mode, frantically digging its claws into Simon's arm before flying into the cell to the opposite side.
Blackquill, ignoring his bleeding limb and not even sparing a glance at what little he could see of his irresponsible neighbor, returned to his bed and flopped back down. Of course, he just would end up stuck in the same cell block as a bunch of dotards in the animal rehabilitation program.
"Are you all right, Blackquill?" asked the snake-owner. "It looked like she took a chunk out of you."
This, however, caught his attention. "How do you know my name?"
"I'm hurt. Don't you recognize me?"
After a moment's thought, Simon realized that he did. He was listening to the voice of the ex-Chief-Prosecutor who had, no more than a few months before falling from grace, promoted him to the high prosecutor's office.
A lump of disgust settled in his stomach. "Debeste."
"Right you are," said Debeste. "Y'know, I'm sure you've had a long day. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning, all right?"
Blackquill did not get any rest. He cried until lights out, and continued well into the night. It seemed as though he had barely shut his eyes when he awoke again, finding himself not alone in his bed.
Thinking this moving lump to be the damnable feline from before, he rolled over, thinking to swat it on the nose or however else one disciplined a cat — how did one discipline a cat? — only to find himself staring into the soulful, piercing eyes of his own beloved pet hawk.
"Taka?"
Taka cried out in return, and Simon sat up slowly, reaching out to stroke feathers he feared might disappear under his touch. How had he gotten there? Simply flown in throught he window? He'd told Aura to set the bird free... had she driven up to the prison to do so?
Well. He wouldn't have put it past her.
"You can't be here," he whispered.
It wasn't strictly true. He had been deemed eligible for animal therapy, and was technically permitted to submit a pet from home. But the problem was that once he was entered into the program, Taka would no longer be able to leave the premises; he'd be microchipped and have his wings clipped. And while Simon had doomed himself to living in captivity, he refused to do the same to Taka.
Lights came on in the hallway, and a cold panic ran down Simon's spine. What would happen to Taka if the guards were to find him there? He tried to shoo the young hawk, only to have him dig his claws into the bed and whine.
He wanted his breakfast, Simon realized. Taka, who could have no way of understanding what occurred, had sought out their normal morning routine as if nothing were wrong. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
"Roll call!" The guard's booming voice interrupted Simon's thoughts. He needed to get Taka out of there. He patted his shoulder and the bird hopped up contentedly, probably under the misconception that finally things were going as they ought.
"I don't have anything for you," Simon hissed, heading to the window. "You have to go. Go!" He signalled for Taka to fly out.
But Taka was having none of it. He dug his talons in and demanded his breakfast.
"Blackquill!" the guard called.
"Leave me!" Simon barked, attempting but not entirely succeeding at sternness. Blood trickled down his shoulder, though of course he didn't blame Taka for that; he normally wore thicker clothing, after all.
"Blackquill!" The door swung open and the guard stepped into his cell.
Simon froze. There he was, caught red-handed (or red-shouldered, as it were) with a stubborn predator that simply would not leave. "My hawk..." he began dumbly, internally cursing himself. Just how was he going to explain his possession of an unauthorized animal?
"It's time for roll call. Bring your hawk and get your ass in line."
"Ah... yes." Awkwardly, numbly, and waiting for the other shoe to drop, Simon joined the inmates in the hall for the morning headcount.
So began Simon Blackquill's first day in prison.
Taka's forbidden presence went unnoticed at roll call, the bird remaining on Blackquill's shoulder while the cell block was marched toward the showers. Simon had already dreaded this moment; though he was certain he could defend himself against whatever brutish attackers may come, he couldn't begin to say what the juvenile bird would do in the case of a sudden scuffle. He had only ever known kindness from humans.
Simon was led to a changing room and provided a basket for clothing. He began stripping, much to Taka's annoyance, and the hawk hopped into his basket, staring up at him and vocalizing his displeasure.
"There's no showering with the animals," said a guard. "You'll have to put it outside."
Even worse, if Taka decided to wander about freely in this madhouse — it did not bear to think. He would not let his dear friend out of his sight. "Taka always accompanies me in the shower," he bluffed. "Should I try to refuse him, he'll become quite incensed."
The guard peered at Taka, and then at the bleeding marks on Simon's shoulder and arms. He swallowed. "I don't make the rules," he said, but the uncertainty was clear in his voice.
"If you wish him removed, you shall have to do it yourself."
Simon could see the evaluation in the guard's eyes, weighing a potential slap on the wrist against the certainty of sharp talons digging into one. He didn't evaluate for long.
"If that bird causes any trouble in there, it'll be your hide, Blackquill."
There was no going back. He beckoned Taka onto his hand, stroking the bird's feathers to calm him (to calm both of them), and headed into the shower.
Taka had never been exposed to a shower before, and Simon had no clue how he would react. He could only hope that his presence would keep his feathered friend calm amidst all of this new stimuli. But once the water was running, he saw that he needn't have worried. Taka took to the shower as he would a summer rain, fluttering his wings and preening his feathers. The sight was so utterly charming that Simon very nearly forgot his circumstances; that is, until someone spoke to him.
"That's a nice eagle you have there," said Debeste as he lathered up his beard.
"Hawk," corrected Simon, his own feathers ruffled at the remark.
"The animal therapy program in this prison is amazing. Best in the country." He lathered beneath the beard as well.
"Imagine that, with however many such programs this country has," Simon replied disinterestedly.
"It took me a week to have Sebastian processed. It's amazing you got your bird in so quickly," Debeste continued, grinning like an animal baring its fangs. "They really are improving their service."
It was obvious what he was getting at, but Simon, whose study of psychology had been tempered in the courtroom, knew he could not back down here. He met Debeste's wild stare (still wearing goggles even in the shower) and said, "Are you implying something? That I smuggled him in under my shirt, perhaps?"
"No, no, of course not." Debeste held up his hands. "I was merely impressed with their sudden efficiency. I'll look forward to seeing you in class later tonight."
It seemed a harmless enough comment, but Debeste's smile had grown outright sharklike. It didn't take long for Simon to figure out why. The electronic bracelet that had been attached to his wrist when he was incarcerated prevented him from going into areas where he was not permitted. As he was not a member of the animal therapy program, he would not be permitted to enter into their meetings, at which point Taka would be noticed.
What would he tell them? Taka had flown in of his own volition, and similarly refused to leave. What would he tell Debeste right there, right then, standing naked beside him? His mind raced.
"As I thought," said Debeste. "That bird could get you into a lot of trouble. Why didn't you just register it?"
"Taka is a noble animal," Simon said. "I may be caged, but I will not cage him."
"I see, I see." Debeste nodded. "Well, who am I to come between a young man and his pet?" He wiped the steam off his goggles. "But somehow I don't think you have anything to worry about. I'm sure it'll all work itself out, y'know?"
Blackquill severely doubted it would. But his shower went without major event, and he proceeded through the day with Taka by his side. As the hours passed and the animal rehabilitation class approached, he racked his brain to try and find a way out of this mess. Should he fess up? Play sick? Con a guard into letting him into the meeting? Shove Taka out the window and caw like a crow until he flew away in disgust?
As he was running through his options, a guard came to his door. "Blackquill, I have some paperwork for you to sign."
"What?" His brow furrowed. "What manner of paperwork?"
"You're the ex-lawyer," replied the guard, shrugging as he passed a manila folder through the bars.
Blackquill dumped the papers onto his desk. There was a letter from the warden, in regards to a supposed application into the animal rehabilitation program, stating that the program head would need to get in touch with Taka's veterinarian to transfer over medical records, and that Simon himself would be required to agree to a strict code of conduct, but Taka had been accepted into the program. They could begin sessions right away. Furthermore, with special permission, he would not be caged, clipped or, tagged. He could come and go from the building as he pleased.
Simon could barely believe what he was looking at. Was this some sort of joke?
"Are you going to sign it or aren't you?" asked the guard.
Of course he was.
As the guard left, Debeste's voice rang out from the next cell, his voice all smugness with only the touch of feigned innocence. "Oh? What was that all about?"
"That… was your doing?"
"Well! I may have had a word or two with an old friend…"
Simon knew the sorts of things that Blaise Debeste had done. But at that moment, knowing that he'd be able to spend the last of his days with his beloved Taka, he no longer found it in his heart to care. Though the wall between them prevented the other man from seeing it, he bowed low.
"You have my gratitude."
"Aww, that's great," said Athena. "Your first prison friend!"
"No." Though the others were enthralled with the story, Edgeworth's expression had darkened. "Blaise Debeste was no one's friend."
Blackquill gazed away. "It's as he says. That man was more of a snake than his pet, and allowing myself to fall into his debt was one of the greatest mistakes I could have made."
"Ah." She blanched. "Well, that kills the mood."
It did not do so for long, however. The after-party soon headed out for dinner — noodles and burgers, at the request of the venerable Master Fey, a person Blackquill was most honored to meet — and his tales of the clink faded away into the night.