Disclaimer: Sometimes you own Capcom. Sometimes you don't. Somebody else owns Capcom. Amaxing don't. (ooh… the grammar… the grammar…)

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

"Coming!" came Apollo Justice's voice from the back of his tiny apartment. He quickly crossed the room and flung open the door, to witness a brown-haired detective in a lab coat.

Urk! It's her! "Er… um… hi!" said Apollo. Smooth Justice, real smooth.

"Hi." Ema said, bluntly. "Can I come in?"

Whaaat? What's going on here? "Sure! Make yourself at home!" answered a nervous attorney.

Detective Skye looked around the cramped room. It was a dimly lit, brown-walled room, strewn with mismatched furniture that had been picked up mostly at yard sales. "It's a… cozy place you have here." Ema said carefully.

"Well, you know…" Apollo explained, "I'm not exactly famous… or have many clients… and I have even fewer clients that can actually pay me, so… yeah."

"Right, right, I understand."

There was a silence.

"So… why are you here?" asked Apollo.

"Humph" said Ema, turning her head "here I am trying to be nice for a change and you have to be like that."

"Urk! No, I didn't mean it like that…but still…"

"Too late. Give me a bag of Snackoo's or I'm leaving."

"Ema… those are the very things you pelt my forehead with and threaten to ruin my hair with. What on earth makes you think I'd have some in here?"

The detective stared at Apollo, breathing slowly out her nose.

Apollo sighed. "Chocolate or caramel…?"

"Caramel please!" cheered Ema, smiling for the first time.

Five minutes later…

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH "…ah. Much better."

She just ate that entire bag in five minutes…

"That can't be healthy" Apollo commented, leaning back against the arm of a couch.

"That's where you're wrong my friend" Ema smiled, lowering her rose-tinted glasses. "Scientific analysis reveals that there's only one hundred calories per serving of Snackoo's brand snacks!"

Apollo looked at the bag. "It also says there's twenty servings per bag…"

"What?" asked Ema, shocked. "I… I think I'm going to be sick…"

Not on the armchair, please not on my beautiful, secondhand red leather armchair!

"Ema… not to be rude or anything… but why are you here?"

"Huh? OH! Right! This!" She held up a knife. "DIE APOLLO JUSTICE!"

"ACK!" Apollo raised his arms up to defend himself. He stood there shaking for a minute and a half.

"Apollo… you need to man up…" said Ema, shaking her head. "Don't you recognize this? It's the murder weapon!"

"Huh? Oh! Right! The knife from the generic murder case set up in order to give this story some sort of rational plotline!"

"Exactly!" said Ema, smiling. "I ran some tests on this knife after the trial today, know what I found out?"

"What?"

"The blood on this knife… isn't the victim's blood."

"WHAAAAAAT? That changes everything!" Apollo yelled, showing off his Chords of Steel.

"Yes… quite. I'll be looking forward to another one of your quasi-famous turnabouts."

"Hehe… thanks" Apollo said, his arm behind his head.

Ema looked around the room. "It's weird… I always pictured you living in that office with Trucy and Mr. Wright."

"What? Why would I do that?" Apollo asked. "It's not like I'm related to them (ahemironyahem) it's just my workplace!"

"I guess…"

"Come to think of it, I can't even begin to picture where you live" Apollo brought up.

"Who, me? I live in an apartment like this one… except it's not nearly as organized."

Apollo looked around at the many food cartons, pillows, and cushions that lay strewn about the floor. "This… is organized?"

"I'm a scientist! You expect me to be neat?"

"Fair enough."

There was silence again, as if both parties were thinking about what to say next.

Ah, the heck with it thought Apollo here goes nothing.

"Ema…"

"Yes Apollo?" asked Ema, smiling.

Apollo paused, then sighed, pointing to an empty bag. "Why on earth do you like Snackoo's so much?" Chords of Steel? Sure. Nerves of Steel? As if.

"They were really popular in Europe" said Ema "and my professor of Forensic Studies had in his grant that he could have all of his Snackoo's paid for by the police department."

"A grant… to pay for Snackoo's?"

"It may seem a bit odd…" Ema admitted "but it's true, nonetheless. I suppose I picked up the addiction there."

"Oh." Another silence.

"Um…" said Ema, quietly. "Well, I've taken up enough of your time I suppose…"

"Oh, don't worry about that!" replied Apollo. "I was just writing in my journal, nothing important."

"You always did seem the artsy, liberal arts kind of guy to me…" Ema smiled. "I guess… I'll just go now…"

"Sure… bye" sighed Apollo, giving a slight wave.

"Bye…" whispered Ema, turning towards the door.

OBJECTION!

"ACK!" yelled a startled Ema, tripping over her own feet.

"Sorry! Sorry!" apologized Apollo (oooh, that sounds cool) "I just um…"

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT?" yelled Ema, furious.

"Well… I mean; you don't have to go… if you don't want to."

There was yet another silence. Apollo looked down at the floor, occasionally glancing upward towards Ema. Ema stood riveted to the spot, lost in thought.

"Are you saying…" whispered Ema after several long minutes "are you saying… you want me to stay?"

"No…" began Apollo "I just don't want you to go, is all."

"That's contradictory."

"Yeah… I suppose I should be ashamed of myself then."

Ema laughed. She blushed, and looked up at Apollo. "Well, I suppose I'm not exactly busy…" she smiled "sure, I'd love to." She sat down on the couch next to him. There was another brief silence. (What the heck? How many times is that plot device going to be used? I mean seriously, come on, at least word it differently or… I'm ranting against myself. Fabulous.)

"So… scientifically speaking… what happens now?"

"Well… I had a few ideas…" smiled Apollo. He leaned in and kissed her.

"Take that," he whispered.

Is it cliché? Yup. Is it short? Yup. Was it done at midnight to compensate for the fact that I couldn't find any ApollaxEma stories on this site? Heck yeah. Read and review. If you like the pairing, I can do one that requires thought.