Psychic Aggression {Ace Attorney and Pokemon Wattys 2016} (Complete)

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Angel Swan put down the phone. Crossing her legs and arms, she hugged herself as best she could. She just invited him over. Cursing herself for sitting, she stood at attention, waiting for him. Her boss of sorts. She shivered. It had no doubt been a stressful day for him, and he would relieve it on her. No matter, it would be worse if she didn't report.

Re-adjusting the brand name makeup he bought for her, she put her fourth coat on. Her hands shook as she did, not from the smoking addiction this time. She cursed as she smudged her mascara. Taking a dampened tissue she did the entire left eye again. Dark and shady, just like how he liked it. She would blend in perfectly with his shadows.

Putting on her fleece, charcoal black trench coat, she buttoned it to the top. He liked it when she did that, leaving layers of mystery for him to unravel with fresh experimentation methods. She had made sure to change into a new set of red lingerie underneath her black dress. He liked it when she showed him new things.

Cringing, she resisted the urge to smoke. He didn't like the smell of it. Hence the reason the hotel had been cleaned. She'd almost had a nervous breakdown when she had been informed that the prosecuting lawyer would come to her and talk. She had been informed of his...situation, of sorts. And she thought hers was bad. It made her all the more grateful that she at least still had the hotel at this point. However, she suspected that the only reason she did was so she had her own paper trail and he didn't.

She felt bad for the lawyer in the pink suit. Besides the fact he claimed it was wine red when it was actually a nice shade of magenta pink, she knew he was screwed over. The poor man knew nothing of the forces he was combating. He worked in a dark world that he mistook for light. That was the way it was in Kanto. There was no way out of anything. Swan sighed. Perhaps she had been born at the wrong time. Not many knew it, but she was already 30. She had been 22 and a new business owner when the depression came about. They say it was a legend that her ownership survived during that time. Those in the hotel business speculated that it was a stroke of luck, or maybe even an accident. A mere coincidence, it was not though. That was the way things worked. The ginger in black was not born without a reason.

He entered the lobby at 10:05. Swan had no clue what had taken him an hour with Wright, but she didn't dare ask. She knew better than to pry into his business without a reason. It made the nights even longer and harder. She watched as he set down a bag on the reception counter. No doubt meat from the butchery he owned. She asked him once why he did that for a second job. He'd replied that it was to help quell his primal instincts like how he spent his nights with her. She knew he was not kidding. He was a man with finesse and body strength.

Locking the door to the front, he said, "Angel. Be a dear and make us two steaks. You're hungry, right?"

"No sir, I already ate. I—" She was cut off.

He glared at her. "I didn't ask!"

"The detective will hear...he's already back," she whimpered.

"I don't care. Make me a steak, and season it perfectly. Also, redo your makeup. It's smudged. You're supposed to look pretty, not incompetent. That's what you're here for," her boss said once more.

She left, trying not to tremble as she grilled his steak and her own second one. Medium rare was what he always took. The heat from the searing smudged her makeup even more, and so she reapplied everything as fast as possible. Once again, she attempted to bring some order to her nerves.

"Sir," she said, placing his steak in front of him. She had never been allowed to call him by his name. He was above her.

He glared his infamous glare at her. "Bring your steak over and sit down so we may begin."