Simon directs Fulbright to the visitor's lot as Holland Dotes' ode to a girl who's gone too far, but you know it doesn't matter anyway, fades out.

"Is your sister an astronaut, then?" Fulbright asks, the non sequitur not coming as any great surprise.

"She is not. She is an engineer, helps to develop the various robotics used by GYAXA, as well as other businesses that might be in need of similar equipment. GYAXA's labs and available resources are second to none."

"Wow, you two are quite the successful duo! Almost like Holland Dotes."

"Hah, I've nothing to stake any claim to, which she dutifully reminds me of. It's..." Dare he mention Dr. Cykes? Oh, why not. "It's because of this that she thought it best I consign myself under the tutelage of her coworker, one Dr. Metis Cykes, who specializes in psychology. That is, to aid me in my career as a prosecuting attorney. To pursue the truth from a different angle than my predecessors, and in doing so, contribute in a more... well, more to the legal system's restoration than to the downfall it's in the midst of."

"That's so very admirable of you, Sir. I'd say it's paid off."

"I have not even finished trying my first case."

"Oh, I know that, but... I'd still say it's paid off. Really! I can tell these sort of things."

"Hrm..." Simon uses the action of unbuckling his seatbelt as an excuse to look away, that Fulbright can't see the patches of pink surely spreading across his cheeks. They're parked now, and he should exit the vehicle, but he still hasn't...

He sets a hand on the door handle, though it's all for show. There's a lot he needs to get out, and he is thankful that Fulbright has shown himself the type willing to listen. "So, ah... you said about going somewhere to eat? That is still your plan?"

Fulbright shrugs. "Yeah, there's this nice little retro-style diner, the Jukebox Café, where I always go when I work on stuff away from the station. Well, I guess tonight I won't have anything to work on... but they have the best French toast in the city, that they serve all day! That'll make up for me shooting myself in the foot like this. A little, anyway."

The mention of food evokes a pang of hunger within Simon. It's far later than he predicted, and he never broke for lunch. He knows that right inside the front doors awaits the homemade curry tonkatsu promised him.

And yet, he is in no hurry to stop speaking with Fulbright.

"Are you certain of that?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, their French toast is amazing! I'd even swear to it on the stand!"

Simon sighs, resisting the impulse to bat Fulbright upside the head. "I meant, are you certain that you won't have a case to work on?"

After Fulbright "huh?"s, Simon concisely details the information Officer Ng found within Mr. Ecsprest's account: the Register website, and the saved searches concerning Senator Prior's wife, whose unsolved murder serves as a link between Mr. Herr and the Prior family to this day.

Even with Fulbright's sunglasses blocking his eyes, Simon knows they're aflash with excitement. "That's incredible, Sir! But, wait, you said there's no connection to this case? To Mr. Ecsprest's murder?"

"There's not one established, no." Simon realizes now just how truly exasperating this is, how much work is left to be done and how much he can not be the one to do it. He is no longer clutching the door's handle, simply resting his hand there and letting his fingers drum impatiently along it. "And I haven't the time to look into it. I told Officer Ng to look into it as well—she seems relatively acquainted with the case in general, as I said—and if there's anything either of you determine is of even the slightest importance, I want to be informed of it before the trial starts tomorrow morning."

"Oh, I bet she's found plenty already! Geez, I'd better call her as soon as I leave, I can't go get dinner if there's justice—"

"Gods, Fulbright, at least take time to eat if you must. I know I said I want information by tomorrow morning, but don't rush through this. For it feels as if, however much you two manage to find, it will be of little significance until I'm unable to untangle the web of lies that has been woven by everyone involved in this case."

It is not Simon's intention to implicate Fulbright with that remark, but his detective appears stung all the same. "I don't know why you'd have me do all this; I'm sure Dakota can handle it on her own, and it's my fault you're in this mess to begin with. It's awful, you told me to stay honest with you, and it turned out me being there, as the lead... well, it was a lie, when it comes down to it all."

"Yes, Fulbright, you did foul up. But what you must understand is that, although you are not the lead detective, I... I need your assistance, your input. And I certainly value it more so than from those great plonkers. This is your way—your personal invitation—back in. At least, I'm hoping as much."

There's a few seconds where Fulbright seems to be formulating a very careful response. He raises his aviators, allows them to perch across his forehead. Are these intense amber eyes the same ones Simon found so vacant, just earlier today?

"You... you know, Sir, those agents? They'd be a lot less effective, if they were separated somehow. I think so, anyway. They're like a two-headed monster. I've seen it a lot over the years, unfortunately, both in crimes and around the precinct. But it turns out, one's always the leader, and the other's the follower."

"It's far too akin to being back in high school," Simon realizes too late that this is not a conversation about his life. Fulbright must be trying to make a point, and it's not Simon's place to just spit out such unprompted statements.

But for as uncalled for as Simon's reply is, Fulbright hardly seems to mind.

"Yeah, yeah it is. And I... it shouldn't be, but... well, look, they tried to do it to you, Sir, to get you to turn on me, with all the trouble I caused. It's just really shady, and it's all just a bunch of grandstanding on their part. Intimidation tactics. They want you to feel helpless, as if you don't have any option but to go along with them."

"They have an agenda, you mean."

"Yeah. Exactly."

A moment's pause, wherein a thought occurs to Simon. "You mentioned separating them if possible, and how they meant to foster distrust between us. In that vein, are you suggesting I engage in the same unscrupulous tactics? Pit one against the other?"

Fulbright laughs lightly, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "Well, Sir, I can't really give you permission one way or another; it's your case. But you have a point. They're so focused on having you obsess over how you can't tie Ms. Prior-Stewart to any of this. It's definitely not right that they aren't letting her in for questioning, but if you can't link her to any of this—even if she's previously related to the defendant, like you told me—then you're just digging yourself into a hole and making them more powerful. That's what they want. So forget about that, about her, and yeah, give them a taste of their own medicine; get one to turn on the other."

"I... but how, Fulbright? They're so... oh, please don't repeat this to anyone, but they frighten me." Simon waits for a negative reaction from Fulbright, but there is none; he is simply waiting for Simon to continue. "I wouldn't even know where to begin, with trying to get through to either."

"We know the murder took place in the sorting room, not the dock. Or, something went down there." Fulbright removes his sunglasses briefly, wiping their lenses as he speaks, making this all seem a very casual conversation. "So, if you think about it, it's not even Mrs. Prior's unsolved murder that's important, it's that the computer is—that the victim and defendant both had reason to be there, because of it. You don't have to prove why, just start with the fact that they were."

Now it's Simon's turn for thoughtful reflection. It's surprisingly easy, with how complicated the whole day has been, especially with Simon expressing himself. It must be that whole honesty concept Fulbright preached about, as there's no need to struggle for pretenses or a fancy turn of phrase; he finds the words he's looking for, and nothing less or more.

"You told me earlier that there is no denying Mr. Herr is connected to his case; that is the one thing I believe wholeheartedly, and the angle I will pursue. But I've reached the point that I can not say how so, with all that's being kept from me. I am being asked to prove the guilt of a man who I can not unarguably say is guilty, because I do not trust the methods in which this so-called 'proof' of guilt was obtained."

"But I believe in you, Prosecutor Blackquill! I know you wouldn't compromise yourself and your beliefs, just for a verdict, no matter what kind of stunt those agents try to pull with you. And that's why I'll do my very best to find a connection between Mrs. Prior's death and this case, not to help you win, but so justice prevails! I promise, I won't let you down again!"

With that final vow, the aviators return to Fulbright's forehead, and the smile to his face. Stronger than before, much like the peculiar twist somewhere behind Simon's ribs, as it's directed at him.

"Hmph, you speak as if there was a first time." Oh, to hell with it, he might as well just put it out there. He rearranges his mouth into what he hopes is a calm, placid smile, and cautiously reaches his hand to Fulbright's shoulder; the perfect gesture. Not too invasive, but demonstrative enough to accentuate what he says next. "That being said, Fulbright, as far as 'firsts' go, I would hardly be adverse to this being our 'first time' together."

"...Sir?!" Fulbright shifts beneath his touch, a clear attempt to pull away. The exaggerated rising of his brows cause the aviators to fwip! down in front of eyes widening with incredulity. "I... I! I mean, I think you're nice enough, Prosecutor Blackquill, but we hardly know each other and—"

"As a case!" Simon retracts his hand immediately, and hopes the tint of Fulbright's sunglasses prevents him from noticing just how flushed red Simon's face has become. "I meant...! You know what I meant! Bah, you should indulge in pasta for your next meal, not French toast, to match your noodle-headedness... Fool Bright."

Fulbright, as he would, finds this humorous enough to begin laughing, but it dies out as his attention is caught by something else. Something outside the car, the way he's looking beyond Simon, through the passenger's side window off into the distance.

"Fulbright, what's—" Simon follows Fulbright's gaze, turning around and immediately finding what he doesn't, but should, expect.

Several yards away, the vistor's entrance door is slightly ajar. Tiny hands, an orangey crown of hair, and a pair of metallic antennae are visible within the thin strip of light peeking through.

Simon's irritation quickly subsides. Chuckling softly, he gathers up his folio and pushes open the car door. "Fulbright, follow along."

Fulbright does so, trailing after Simon as he approaches the door and the individual clinging to it.

Simon lowers to a crouch and Athena's slender frame presses warm against him, an antenna nicking him about the chin. He hugs her back with his available arm. "Good evening, Athena."

"You're late..." she murmurs into his chest.

Raising his hand, Simon sets it gently on the back of her head, on her silky hair. "My apologies. But I'm here now, and very glad I am."

Athena turns her head slightly and peers up at Fulbright, who is watching the whole exchange.

"Is this your...?" Fulbright can't quite finish his question.

Athena is small for her age, though clearly too old to be Simon's daughter. And their differing physical features don't exactly mark them as being biologically related.

"Detective Fulbright, this is Athena Cykes. She is a good friend of mine. Athena, this is Fool... er..." He edits himself; Athena may not fully comprehend the lack of disdain his nickname for Fulbright now holds. "This is Detective Fulbright. He was... well, I suppose, is my partner."

He spares a meaningful glance towards Fulbright, hoping that it carries the sentiment of what they spoke about minutes ago, about his desire for their partnership to carry through the remainder of this case, official or not.

Fulbright understands enough to crouch down beside Simon, pop his sunglasses back to his forehead, and lift the badge around his neck for Athena to see. As if Simon would have reason to be lying to her. "Hi Athena! I'm Bobby Fulbright."

Athena pulls back from hugging Simon. She reaches for her headphones, readjusting them with a quirked expression.

Fulbright, for how astute he'd been about the crime scene, does not seem to note the onset of Athena's discomfort. "I'm sure we'll get along, because any friend of Prosecutor Blackquill has to be on the side of justice!" There's the briefest hesitation, where Simon sees the realization dawning in Fulbright's eyes, as he takes in the elastic band that Athena has around her own wrist. "And you helped so much, too! That hair tie you let Prosec—...Simon have, he seemed really inspired by it!"

Simon expects her to blanch at this stranger suddenly entering in her life, and so deafeningly loud, too. He braces for the recoil, for the panicked whimpers, for trembling arms to snare him again, even tighter.

But instead, the strangest thing happens.

Athena smiles back at Fulbright, in a way Simon has always wished for her to: without the slightest trouble.

"...Really?"

Fulbright holds up three fingers tightly pressed together. The oath of a Boy Scout. Of course. "Really!"

"Yes, well, about that, Athena." Now sure that Athena isn't in immediate need of consoling, he rises from his crouch. "I wanted to ask you if I could keep it for the trial tomorrow, at the least. I think I will be needing more luck than what I was provided today."

She nods fervently. "Yeah! And... you need one too, Mr. Fulbright, if you're Simon's partner."

The one around her own wrist is plucked off, passed to Fulbright. It nearly snaps as he stretches it over his hand, but finds its way safely to a new home and when Fulbright thanks her, her "you're welcome!" bubbles out full of the childlike glee she deserves to experience.

What is going on? Athena is never like this around new people. Or, Simon shouldn't say never—it's tough to gauge, when there's so few incidents to weigh her behavior against.

He takes the opportunity to further the positive atmosphere, to gently pry into her accomplishments from the day.

"Enough about my day, Athena. I can hardly wait to see what you've all prepared for dinner tonight." Athena had been all too eager to assist her mother and Aura with the meal tonight; a special occasion, after all. "I'm sure it'll be a feast for the ages."

"Oh, um..." Her smile droops, her head hangs and Simon doesn't know what he said that was so horribly wrong. "That's why I was waiting for you... I have to warn you, Simon!"

"Warn me?"

Athena scuffs her shoe along the cement ground. "Making dinner didn't go very well so Aura decided we should just order something. Mom wanted to wait until you came back, so you could pick."

"How do you mean it 'didn't go well'?"

Athena shrugs. "Mom told Aura it wasn't a good idea to experiment with letting PONCO cook, but...well, I think PONCO's okay, but Mom made me leave the kitchen because Aura was saying lots of bad words. So I'm not sure. Oh, please, don't get mad, Simon!"

Yes, of course. Aura taking this as a chance to impress Dr. Cykes.

Simon sighs, and sneaks a glance at Fulbright, who appears very... amused by all this. Hmph. "I'm not. Not in the least. We could always delay the dinner until after the trial has concluded."

"After you win?"

"Yes, well... I hope so." He pats her head again, with brotherly affection. If only he could somehow steal some of her confidence in him, for himself.

"Yeah, you sure sound really hopeful, Simon."

"I... is that so?" Oh, bother, what does she mean?

She looks over at Fulbright, who's still watching with great interest. Again, she doesn't squirm about uneasily, or cower away, only turns back to Simon and says, "Like when Mr. Starbuck's friends visit. You know, those guys who always yell at each other?"

Terran and Justice. Simon has met them in passing once or twice, and heard them from a distance quite a bit more. He nods, mutters a "Yes..?"

"It's just like that! You sound like they do when they cheer each other on. It's because Mr. Fulbright's here, helping you, isn't it?"

"It is most certainly not!" Simon brings his free hand to his mouth, to cover the frown that forms. It muffles the start of what follows. "In fact, Detective Fulbright should be leaving. Athena, say goodbye to him for the time being, so he can be on his way. I'm sure he has a great many justice-related activities to attend to, that we are keeping him from."

"No!" Athena protests, and tugs at Simon's arm. "Can't he stay, and eat dinner with us? Then you guys can work extra hard on the case together! I can help, too, Simon!"

"I'd love t—" Fulbright starts, but Simon speaks right over him.

"Athena, I said no. I have already monopolized his time for the day, he does not want to waste another second in my company."

"Sure I do! Hey, I know! What if we all just go to the Jukebox Café? You could bring your sister, Sir, and Athena, your mom could come too. I'll drive!" Fulbright is looking at Athena as he says all this, and it has its intended effect.

She squeals, "Yeah!" at the same time Simon splutters out, "Wh...?! No! Absolutely not!"

He may be called away at a moment's notice, and would hate for it to be while comfortably dining with his sister and the Cykeses. Not to mention that getting there—the five of them cramming into Fulbright's clunker—is ludicrous.

"But Sir, you said I should take the time to eat, and not rush! And I think, with how stressful the day's been, it'd be so much nicer to have dinner with friends, instead of all by myself!" It might just be for dramatic effect, but Fulbright pinches at the bridge of his nose, as though stemming back tears that may begin any minute, should Simon continue his refusal. "And how am I supposed to concentrate on investigating the Prior case if all I can think of is the great injustice of not being given a chance to repay Miss Cykes for all her help!"

"Please, Simon? I won't mess up, like last time," Athena begs. "Pleeeeease?"

This is even more a losing battle than trying to discuss a damned thing with those agents. He doesn't want to describe Athena's hardships to Fulbright in front of her, how Fulbright does not understand Athena's predicament, her over-sensitive hearing and the damage it could inflict if she is thrust into too hectic a setting. The most he can do is remain staunchly opposed to this offer, and yet...

She sounds so exuberant, which he does not require any sort of advanced hearing to detect. And she trusts him—and, apparently, Fulbright—in a way she does not trust anyone who is not employed at GYAXA.

He knows, already, that Dr. Cykes will allow it—her poor daughter, so content to whittle time away in the confines of the space center with little to no human interaction, actually yearning to go out? Besides the occasional visit to Juniper's home on the outskirts of the city, Simon can't think of another time that Athena has left GYAXA that wasn't to go to school. She did want to see Simon's office, wanted to help him decorate it and even drew up a crude design of what the finished result would look like. But they only got so far as the lobby before a fellow prosecutor wielding a whip cracked it repeatedly at a sniveling detective, the commotion startling Athena into tears.

(Simon kept the drawing, though. Tacked it up beside his diploma, and keeps reminding himself to purchase a similar frame for it.)

He fears a repeat of this episode, but the only true remedy is to try, and try again. As much as he wants to protect Athena, he knows she can also not be stifled, not when there's so much she can give the world she's so frequently hidden away from.

And, he thinks, for all Aura's driven him around lately, giving her an evening alone with Dr. Cykes would be an excellent way to show his thanks.

Simon surrenders, and looks down to the blue eyes sparkling up at him. "Athena, go ask your mother and Aura—politely—if you can join Detective Fulbright and myself for dinner. And let them know it is perfectly fine if they'd like to order in for themselves, if they want to stay here and relax."

"Yay!" With that, Athena disappears inside. The door shuts, but Simon can hear her call of "Mo-ooomm!"

"She's a really cute kid," Fulbright tells him after a handful of seconds pass. "You choose your friends well, Sir!"

"Yes, I... she has not been given the easiest lot in life, but..." Simon swallows, thinking of however tedious the world must think being around Athena Cykes is, it's exponentially more difficult for her. "She is so very remarkable."

Remarkable, indeed, as a minute or two later, Athena comes scampering back out the door, a suede child's purse swinging from her shoulder. Snagging Simon's hand on the way, she pulls him towards Fulbright's car with the shout of "Shotgun!" She releases Simon halfway there, darting ahead to the passenger's side.

Fulbright passes Simon, and pauses at the driver's side door to slide his aviators back on, even though only the smallest wisps of sunlight remain. Athena has already climbed into the passenger seat and is buckling her seatbelt with more enthusiasm than even Fulbright, when he showed off his badge.

He has rarely seen her like this, brimming with a pure joy that can not be duplicated even by someone like Aura, in how nuanced she was able to construct her robots' matrix of emotions.

Could she really be this taken with Fulbright, so soon? Simon knows that she can hear what he—everybody—can not, and he would never invalidate her ability by passing off this immediate connection as a child's naivete.

There is something about Bobby Fulbright that, for as inexplicable as he is to Simon, is easily understood by Athena. Makes her feel happy and, perhaps, safe, and it's something he can accept, for now, if only to have something good come out of this abysmal day.

Last to get in, Simon folds himself into the backseat of the Oldsmobile and is met with the harmonies of Holland Dotes and Athena exclaiming, "Yeah, you bet!"

When Simon asks, "'You bet' what?", it's Fulbright who tells him, "That she loves French toast."

There is a short wait for a booth at the Jukebox Café—that is, one in the smaller of the two dining areas, and more secluded, which Simon prefers with having Athena out in public like this. He gives her a dollar in quarters to play with the crane game in the lobby while they wait. Fulbright does the same, and Simon releases an alleviated sigh as they take a seat on the long narrow bench positioned near the entrance

"You know, Detective..." Simon turns his gaze from Athena, who is meticulously guiding the crane over a plump stuffed panda. "I never did get a chance to ask you about your glasses. They are rather unique."

Fulbright's eyes roll upward, as if he can see the sunglasses where they are now, propped upon his forehead. "You think so? I've always thought aviators look pretty sharp. Give me an air of mystery or something!"

"I can safely say you are, in fact, very mystifying, Fulbright."

"Thank you, Sir!" He reaches behind his ear and taps the temple tips, sending the aviators whisking down to where they belong, in front of his eyes. "You know, you're the first person to say that these really suit me."

Only Fulbright would take such an observation as a compliment, and return it with a comment equally as obtuse. And it's somehow fitting, with all they've been through today, for Simon to be brought back to the moment they first met. When he was so puzzled by Fulbright and his presence that he hadn't even...

"You're welcome." Simon shifts more towards Fulbright, bending an arm up and offering an open hand.

It's taken with a winning smile. The kind Simon can not replicate, but returns with his own lop-sided one.

He remembers claiming to Fulbright more than once how he "knows many things", but what Simon does not know is how to express how fortunate—lucky, even, thanks to Athena—he is that fate intervened and provided him such a trying, and yet, educational first day.

Or how, as a detective—and should the boost in spirit he's experiencing at the moment be any indication, as a potential friend—Bobby Fulbright might very well suit him.