California is Florida lite and 3am is a weird time.

Dont break quarintine for some dick you fucking loser

Apollo yawned, rereading the same line of the notes of a recent case. His vision was a little fuzzy, and he was starving. He sighed, and placed down the file. Apollo winced, as he stretched out from his hunched over position at his crooked kitchen table, his bones popping. (Not like they weren't already cracky, Trucy regularly making fun of him for his 'old man joints' but these ones hurt a little more and were a little louder) His stomach let out a roar of fury, reminding him of its recent neglect.

Sighing, he got up from the chair. He found himself wanting the company of a (certain prosecutor) other people. While Apollo thought of himself as a solitary person, he still had the basic craving of human company god dammit.

And right then, with the most convenient timing, the likes of which only seen in fiction and that particular brand of cheesy self aware fic writing, Apollo's phone started ringing.
Apollo quickly fished it out his pocket, not looking at the caller number and answering.
"Hello?"

A cheerful, ringingly plastic voice greeted his years. "We're happy to inform you won a car! Give us yo-"

Apollo hung up. For really obvious reasons.

With a heavier, sadder sigh, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, chucked on some pants, and walked out to his bike. Hopping on, he rode... anywhere really. He didn't really have a destination. He stopped by McDonald's. There's always people at McDonald's.
There was a weird bird man that was definitely not Simon Blackquill despite the punk aesthetics. He was an interesting bloke, he told Apollo about some stories about when he was a kid, which were shockingly all true. There were some particular ones that stuck in his brain, about running around in blue dresses threatening cops with pepper spray, catching teachers cheating on each other with other teachers, and all the times he may have been possessed, which there were... an awkward amount of to say the least. The man seemed to have gotten into a lot of trouble and still was getting into a lot of trouble, it was actually kinda amazing how much ridiculousness the man had gotten himself into.
Either way it filled a chunk of the void craving company, and Apollo also left the dude -Andrew he thinks- the number for Wright anything agencies, just in case if he gets arrested, molested, and robbed in 24 hours again.

He rode down empty streets, not quite wanting to head home to his apartment yet. It felt... wrong since Clay was gone. They didn't even technically live together, but they crashed at each other's places so often they practically did.
That still stung. Losing Clay. Some nights were worse than others. That night was a night where he was aching for simpler times. He wasn't going to cry (at least, he hoped he wasn't) but everything just felt sorta tender.

He stopped by People park. Everything felt surreal, tinged in a purple light. He parked his bike and walked down the path. He didn't really know what he was doing, maybe just chasing away lingering feelings, trying to look to the future. Trying not to think about his own eventual demise.
He breathed in the cool night air. It really was the worst time to be craving the company of another person. It could easily be anywhere from 10pm to 5am. All of his friends were probably asleep and-

Another oddly convenient call, and this time he checked the ID

Klavier Gavin.

He fumbled with his phone, you know, the kind of thumble you make when your fingers are cold. Maybe he should've worn gloves. Or a coat. Or literally anything other than what he was wearing. What was he wearing? He was so tired he didn't remember what he threw on as pants.

A glance down revealed it was just some old black jeans, a little tight. He'd have to alter them soon to fit him better. Alright.

He finally answered it properly. "Hey" was his voice always that slurred? Or was he just exhausted?.. he may never know.

"Ah, guten abend Herr Forehead. Or should I say guten morgen? It is 3 in the morning." Klaviers voice was slurred by sleep, but Apollo swore he never heard anything more comforting in that moment. "I called you because well... I'll admit I'm not feeling up to being alone right now. You don't have to stay on the call, I just wanted to remind myself other people exist, I'll let you go now-"

Apollo quickly answered "No wait, you're at home right?"

"...Yes?" Klaviers voice had the sorta tone that was like 'why wouldn't I be at home?? It's 3 mcfucking am' but less aggressive.

He started walking to his bike. "I'm heading there right now. I don't like the idea of being alone in my house either. I actually grabbed my bike and rode around to nowhere. Stopped by McDonald's and met a weird birdman." He was just rambling at this point

"Blackquill?"

"Nope! Totally different flavor of weird than Blackquill. Had some wild stories."

Apollo heard Klavier chuckle over the line.

"Looking forward to seeing you Apollo"

And Apollo could practically hear the smile in his voice.