Chapter Text
Phoenix has been only pretending to work for the last hour. If he's honest with himself, he has a hard time getting to sleep when Trucy's not home yet: he's fine when he knows she's not coming home for the night, sleeping over at a friend's or in Kurain Village with Maya and Pearls, but waiting up for her is a special kind of parental hell.
The sound of keys in the door makes him finally relax, and he gives up on the document he's reviewing to peer over the back of the couch as Trucy comes in.
"Hey, Truce. How did rehearsal go?"
An audience member at one of Trucy's shows had been the president of a West Covina community theatre group, and was so impressed that she'd asked Trucy to come and do special effects for her group's upcoming musical. Trucy hadn't been sure about it at first, but Phoenix had told her it might be a fun way to try using her magic skills for something else (which doesn't involve throwing knives at Segways, how long has she been throwing knives), and she should have a hobby she doesn't earn money from. (Plus, Miles had suggested to him that it might be a good way for her to make more friends her own age, since Phoenix occasionally despairs that she mostly hangs out with lawyers and detectives in their twenties.) She'd negotiated a materials budget and a carpool to and from rehearsals and production meetings, and has so far been having a great time, from the sounds of it.
"Really good! I've been tweaking my effects for the storm and the director loved it!" She flops down onto the couch next to him, setting her bag right on top of his notes. "We lost another actor, though."
"Oh, damn, another one?" A forgotten peril of unpaid theatre in LA: actors quitting once they get a paid gig. A couple of his college classmates in the Art Department had dropped out of school over it. "This seems pretty close to the show."
"Triton's scabbing for a Netflix show." She's formed opinions on entertainment industry unions lately, lamenting that she's too young to join the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees; he thinks it's because Apollo's been making noises about unionizing. "They're having a hard time replacing him: the other actors who had callbacks for Triton have also gotten booked since, and apparently it's always hard finding older male actors who can sing."
Suddenly, Trucy fixes him with a keen gaze.
"Daddy..."
"Yeah?" Her look intensifies, and the penny - or perhaps the sand dollar - drops. "Oh, no. Truce, I haven't done theatre in years."
"But you were so good," she says, and he suddenly regrets letting his parents show her a video of one of his college musicals.
"Over ten years ago, sure. And I don't look nearly old enough to have a sixteen-year-old daughter." His sixteen-year-old daughter raises an eyebrow, which, fair enough. Time for new evidence. "And it's only, what, six weeks till you open?"
"Triton's not that big a role: you can pick it up," she reasons. "You're always complaining about the songs in Uncle Miles' car getting stuck in your head. And if you forget any lines, you can bluff like you do in court! The other actors will save you, I've seen it happen."
"You know how cases can be--"
"Apollo or Athena can take more cases," she offers. "Besides, you need a hobby."
"I have hobbies," he bluffs, less sure of where he's going with this than he has been with some bluffs in court. "I go to your shows--"
"Supporting your daughter is not a hobby."
"I-- I hang out with Miles--"
"Pining is not a hobby."
"Pining?!"
"It's what you do," she chirps. Before he can object further on this point, she declares, "The prosecution has established that the defense has no hobbies, only relationships. Will the defense at least come talk to the production team?"
Oh, she is spending too much time in court if she's picking up that kind of language and using it only to make fun of him, but... "Okay, okay." A meeting can't hurt. No one would want to cast someone who hasn't been onstage in fifteen years and hasn't had any experience or training since then.
Miles thoroughly enjoys Trucy's Wonder Bar nights: dinner with Phoenix after work, Trucy's magic show, and once in a while, like tonight, dessert afterwards, because Trucy declares she wants a treat before they go home and what the magician wants, the magician gets. Really, the only downside is the end of the night, when he drives the Wrights home and has to say goodbye. Sometimes Phoenix invites him up for tea, but never on dessert nights because it's already late by the time they get home.
No, tonight is one of those nights where he and Phoenix share a smile over the console which gets interrupted by Trucy squeezing between their seats to hug Miles goodnight and goodbye (always awkward because he doesn't unbuckle his seatbelt if he's not getting out with them).
"Night, Uncle Miles! Thanks again for coming to the show and the ride home."
"Of course," he says, and as Trucy retreats to the backseat to leave the car, he turns back to Phoenix. "I forgot to mention over dinner: an old colleague of mine from Berlin - you didn't meet her, she was on parental leave when you visited- she's in town for the weekend and giving a talk on the effects of applying UNDRIP to criminal law in Borginia on Sunday afternoon. Would you like to come with me? She's expressed interest in meeting you."
"Oh, man, that sounds great," Phoenix says, interest brightening his mismatched eyes and straightening his spine in his seat. "I wish I could, but we've got rehearsal Sunday afternoon."
Miles raises an eyebrow. "'We'?"
"Oh, did I forget to tell you?"
"Daddy's doing The Little Mermaid with me!" Trucy announces from the trunk, where she's retrieving her suitcase of props. She punctuates it by closing the door.
Miles considers. "Are they having problems getting the rights?" He immediately reconsiders, because this surely wouldn't require his presence at rehearsal.
"No, I'm, ah, performing," he says, looking sheepish. He turns to put the window down for Trucy to rejoin the conversation from outside the car, because she's come around and tapped on his window. "One of the actors quit, and they were having trouble filling the role, so I said I'd read for them, and next thing I knew--"
"He's playing King Triton! Ariel's dad," Trucy adds, a helpful explanation because though she had made him and Phoenix watch the live action movie with her when she was first considering signing onto the show, he doesn't remember that name. "This Sunday's his first rehearsal with the rest of the cast."
Ah. Perhaps he should have known that Phoenix's inability to turn down someone in need would extend to community theatre groups. Still: "I wasn't aware you could act." Well, he'd certainly fooled Kristoph for seven years-- "Onstage."
"I was in the Art Department before I switched to law, " Phoenix reminds him. "I went in wanting to do Shakespeare, but the professors found out I can sing and started roping me into the musicals."
"Last time we went to Grandpa and Baachan's house, they showed us a video of one of his shows! He played Doody in Grease."
"I didn't play guitar," Phoenix hurries to clarify, though Miles has no idea what he's talking about.
"He was better than the guy who played Danny," Trucy adds. "Grandpa thinks Daddy didn't get the lead because he's hapa and the other guy was white."
"Grandpa didn't see my crappy audition."
It's like they're talking about a different world, a different life. Miles tries for a moment to picture a young Phoenix, before Dahlia had draped a bottle of poison around his neck, onstage, and fails. If only he'd seen his shows back then, instead of being the Demon Prosecutor.
... although speaking of prosecution. "I imagine the unpredictability of investigations might make attending rehearsal difficult," he muses. "How will you handle it?"
"Delegation," Phoenix replies. "The kids are gonna hear the phrase 'development opportunity' a lot over the next couple of months. I wouldn't have been able to do this when it was just me and Maya."
Trucy covers her mouth but does not quite manage to cover an enormous yawn.
"Shit, sorry," says Phoenix, finally unbuckling his seatbelt. "Wish we could talk longer, but this one needs to disappear and reappear in bed. Call me when you get home?"
This night has already been longer than usual from this conversation and now Phoenix wants to talk more later. Miles' heart lifts even though he's about to say goodbye. "Will do."
"Great," says Phoenix. "Maybe we could find another time to meet your old colleague, too; I'd love to meet her. I can't believe you told her about me."
"Daddy," Trucy interrupts.
He has the sudden urge to thank her, because he was definitely about to say something sentimental - it must be the time, or the sugar, or the extra time with them, compounding his years of love for Phoenix. "I apologize, Trucy - I'll let you get to bed. Good night."
Phoenix gives him a soft smile as he opens the door. "Talk to you later."
Acting comes back to Phoenix easier than he thought it would. It helps that Triton, as a character, is a lot closer to himself than several characters his professors threw at him: Triton's a single dad scared for his willful teenage daughter. Phoenix has been there, all too recently. (He only once says "Trucy" instead of "Ariel" and everyone is very nice about it, except for Trucy, who's so embarrassed she disappears down a trap door he hadn't realized was there.) (Ariel calls Triton 'Daddy' like Trucy! Ariel's in danger like Trucy was! It's not his fault.) (He considers himself lucky that he didn't open that scene yelling "Aura" instead of "Ursula".) When Triton is getting his king on, Phoenix amuses himself by playing him in an imitation of Miles from their first few trials together, all pride and arrogance that he will be listened to and found correct, until he gets told to play it "warmer, because you're coming off a little smug".
(It only takes one rehearsal where he accidentally leaves his magatama in his pocket, enters his first scene, and sees locks everywhere for him to make sure his magatama goes into his briefcase on the way to rehearsal and, once there, his briefcase goes as far from the rehearsal space as he can put it. It's theatre: everyone's hiding things, but for fun, presumably (hopefully!) not to cover up a murder. The skeletons in people's closets, or perhaps more likely, the brewing showmances being kept under wraps are none of his business here. He wonders, as he texts Apollo to leave the bracelet at home and Athena to turn off Widget when they come to see the show, how the hell Trucy's handling this.)
Coming into a cast who have already been working together for a few months is weird, but Trucy, darling girl, draws him in. She's made friends with some of the younger cast members - there are so many teenagers in this cast that his and Miles' hope that it would help her make friends her own age came true - and the older cast members take him under their wings too. In a nice change from the legal world, no one's heard of him beyond "Trucy's dad"; apparently they don't get a lot of attorneys in theatre. It's a more diverse mix than his classes at Ivy U had been, where he'd been one of about three people of color in any given cast: Ariel's Khura'inese, Eric is Black, Ursula's Chicana, and the actors playing Triton's other daughters are as mixed as in the live action movie Trucy had made him and Edgeworth watch with her. His college directors wouldn't have done it.
Not only is the production team more inclusive than his college directors, but they're also a lot nicer, probably helped by the facts that they're not grading the cast and he's come in six weeks before opening. When they have rehearsal on Trucy's birthday, the production manager makes Trucy a birthday cake, and while Trucy's of course thrilled, Phoenix feels a little overwhelmed by their kindness, in a good way, because cakes aren't his strong point in the kitchen and between work and rehearsal, ordering her a cake, much less picking it up, had slipped his mind. The rehearsal pianist records him his songs, since they're slightly different from the Broadway cast recording. It's not only actors offering to help run lines with him when he's not onstage. They say he's a huge help coming on at such short notice, but he feels like he's never been helped so much in a show.
The lines and the songs don't come to him as quickly as they did in college, but luckily Apollo and Athena are pretty self sufficient with their current caseloads, and don't blink at him reading his script in the office, only complaining when he accidentally sings along with his songs played over headphones. He just won't bill these hours.
Even when he brings law into it. He takes photos of a few pages of the script and sends them to Miles.
"p sure ariel's a minor," he texts. The musical, unlike the movies, doesn't actually say Ariel's exact age, but he's definitely playing Triton like Ariel is around Trucy's age. "she can't delegate her power. this contract's been void since she dotted the i in her name with a heart"
It's a while before Miles replies, "Objection! Japanifornia's age of majority would apply only if they are within 12 nautical miles of Japanifornia. Where is this undersea lair?"
"gyaaah," he replies. "can't believe you're defending the exploitation of a teenager"
"Obviously the exploitation of a teenager is morally reprehensible but in this case it may not be illegal."
Texting the phrase "morally reprehensible". He's such a nerd. Unfortunately, Phoenix is very much into that. With a grin, he starts typing a reply--
Only to be interrupted by Athena clearing her throat. He glances up at her. "How are things at the prosecutors' office, Mr. Wright?"
Okay, weird opening. "Why do you ask?"
"A second ago, that's always the look on your face when you're talking to the Chief Prosecutor."
"Besotted," explains Widget, and Athena flushes and slams a hand over him.
He's going to ignore that one, because the kids don't need it confirmed. "We weren't talking about work, so I assume everything's fine," he says. "Did you need something?"
Athena draws him into a tricky aspect of her case, and he sets his script and phone aside. Billable hours start now.
There is a kerfuffle in the prosecutors' office of people looking for cash and hoping that "the guy takes Venmo". There can be only one explanation. Miles texts Phoenix, "The tamale salesman is here."
"pendito skipped our place!" Phoenix replies. "you know what i like. be there soon"
Miles wades through his staff to order three tamales, one mild with plenty of sour cream and two medium (a combination which he knows is getting him judged until he pays in cash and tips overly generously), and takes them down the street to the nearest bike rack. Athena and Apollo beat their boss here to gratefully accept tamales from Gavin and Ema, and just as Miles texts Trucy that he's bought her a tamale too, Phoenix mounts the curb and almost doesn't stop before trying to lock his bike to the rack.
"They left after me," he says, looking mournfully towards their employees. "How did they get here before me?"
"It's called a car, Wright," says Miles. Athena had driven Apollo here. He passes the two medium tamales over. "Here - one for Trucy as well."
One of the tamales goes into Phoenix's suit jacket pocket (Miles tries and fails not to wince) before he opens his own and inhales. "Mm. That's the stuff." As he takes a bite, his gaze lands on Miles' tamale, and he attempts to ask, "Extra sour cream on yours?"
It is only because Phoenix and Larry had talking with their mouth full competitions in fourth grade that Miles understands him, but he would rather not admit to this; instead he attempts to retain at least some dignity with, "Swallow."
Phoenix does so, and repeats himself more understandably to the general public, this time adding, "You're so white, Edgeworth," with a look of irrepressible fondness.
"That may be so," he says. "And yet the tamale man came to my office and not yours."
"A cruel indignity of the universe," Phoenix says with a deep sigh.
Miles squints at him. "Are you getting more dramatic now that you're back in theatre?"
"No, no, this is my normal level of drama!" Phoenix protests. "You just don't remember because we haven't been able to hang out as much."
"True," he concedes, before giving him a smile. "It's good to see you again, Phoenix."
"Same. I miss our pre-Wonder Bar dinners," says Phoenix, and Miles marvels that he can so easily say something he feels too but would never have admitted. "That's the evening I catch up on work the kids left me."
"I'm surprised Trucy's still performing."
"So am I. She's cutting down her performance schedule as we get closer to the show just to save some energy, but she's keeping up with things at the moment - she does her homework at rehearsal in between her scenes. Get this: one of my mermaid daughters is a high school math teacher in real life. I'm off the hook for helping her with it."
"That explains the lack of phone calls about math lately," he says, because Phoenix tends to try and outsource helping with math homework to him, and sometimes Trucy simply cuts out the middle man. "How are rehearsals going for you?"
Phoenix lights up as he starts talking about getting back into acting. Though there are elements of his inflection and expressions that are familiar, the way he talks about the talented young actors he's working with not unlike the way he talks about Apollo and Athena's particularly skillful wins in court, there's still something new and lovely about it - about seeing a new side of him, or at least a side he had no idea existed.
"I missed it," Phoenix eventually confesses, simultaneously heartfelt and seemingly surprised to be having this realization, let alone be saying it aloud. "I missed theatre. I just didn't know it until I was back."
"Switching from art to law must have been quite a change," Miles muses. "Any regrets?"
"Not for a second," Phoenix says immediately, but easy and honest. "I wouldn't have Trucy, wouldn't have found you again."
For a second, Miles forgets how to breathe, stunned that Phoenix counts him right alongside his own daughter as a good thing in his life that happened because he changed his major.
Phoenix's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Also, wouldn't have had these tamales. The tamale guy wants to skip my perfectly legitimate law office and talent agency, he definitely wouldn't have come to wherever I was being a starving artist, or wherever my starving artist friends were."
"I suspect he favors my office over yours only because I have more staff," Miles says with a roll of his eyes.
"Yeah, well, tamale guy can cook on and I will follow him to the last gasp with truth and loyalty." Phoenix balls up the tamale wrapper and throws it into a nearby trashcan. "You sure I can't pay you back for these?"
It's an old argument which he knows Phoenix knows he won't win: Miles never lets him pay for tamales, though Phoenix does insist on paying for other meals. He shakes his head for the motion of it.
"Okay, fine, but I'm getting your lunch next time," says Phoenix, and Miles nods his assent. "How've you been, anyway? Thanks for letting me ramble."
He would gladly listen to him ramble more, but he obliges with a few tales from the dog park, the office, and his latest call with Franziska before Phoenix is called back to work (literally, by Apollo asking him to come to the Detention Center).
"Thanks again for lunch," Phoenix says, unlocking his bike.
"It was fun," he dares to admit.
Phoenix flashes a smile at him and heads off. He watches him go for a minute, telling himself he's making sure Phoenix doesn't get hit by another car, then returns to the office.
Logically, Phoenix understands that pack in and dress rehearsals seem to have crept up on him so quickly because he was cast six weeks before opening. Emotionally, he's still surprised by it. Surely it was only yesterday a perfunctory costume mistress was taking his measurements, and in that time she hasn't made him a sparkly blue... skirt?
"Tail," she says, as he turns it around trying to figure out how it works. "You're a merman and all."
"Oh, of course," he says. It's definitely a skirt, but that's okay. "Looks like something my grandfather made me wear to cultural events when I was a kid when my mom didn't have time to help me with my kimono."
She looks up at him in surprise, and, figuring she can infer that his grandfather was Kānaka Maoli, he changes the subject. "Which side's the front?"
"The side with the split," she says, recovering. "Look, the old Triton and a couple of guys in the ensemble made such a fuss about the sketches - 'not manly enough' or whatever bullshit."
With only five weeks of knowing the cast, he thinks he can guess which ensemble members she's talking about. He begins taking his pants off. "This is plenty manly. What were they expecting, pants? With our lack of legs?"
"Exactly."
On goes the skirt-tail. Phoenix looks down as she pins up the too long hem. "Is there a shirt to go with this?"
"No."
"Ah, bare chest for extra manliness, I see." It's still more clothes than when he used to do life modelling in college, and at least his apparently main costume piece is his favorite color.
"That's the spirit!"
He's assigned a dressing room with the more human male leads: the actors playing Eric, Grimsby, and Scuttle, who isn't human but whose costume takes up less room than Sebastian's and the eels'. Luxury of luxury, he has a mirror to himself and doesn't have to take turns like he did in college. Even more luxurious, there's a fascinating face and body paint design for him that he doesn't have to do himself. Less luxurious: feeling like he's going to suffocate from the setting spray afterwards, all over him from the chest up because he also has to gel his hair as wavy as his spikes will go and spray the tips of his hair blue to match his tail.
Trucy doesn't get a dressing room, but she has a workstation in the loading dock that's understandably bigger than his mirror space. Every time he walks past and sees her working intensely on something he understands even less than her usual magic tricks, he's filled with such love and pride for her he expects to burst with it.
The dress rehearsal period is oddly long compared to what he usually got in college, and while he doesn't have a lot to do with all the moving set pieces, dance numbers, and special effects that necessitated it, he's grateful for it. It's nice to have a week and a half in the theatre before opening, getting used to the space, the lights, the microphone (there's something Ivy U's theatre department never seemed to have budget for), the costume (projecting power in a skirt instead of a suit feels new, but the addition of a crown, amulet, and shoulder armor helps, and he thinks back to his grandparents on his mom's side). Somehow, having all the technical elements in play helps him feel more secure in his scenes and songs than he usually would after only four weeks of rehearsal and counting. By the last few dress rehearsals, he feels confident enough to not spend every moment offstage going over his lines: instead he starts watching from side stage, marvelling at the sheer talent throughout the cast, the stamina of the ensemble and the fun choreography in the big musical numbers, and of course his best girl's magic being put to a new use.
When the day they open rolls around, it almost doesn't feel like it: it feels more like yet another dress rehearsal night, up until Trucy, doing homework at Apollo's desk after school, says off-hand, "Huh, Polly's late back from trial," at the same time as he gets a text from Miles apologizing because the trial got extended, Apollo's found a complication in the case that warrants Chief Prosecutor paperwork and oversight, and Apollo needs to investigate tonight.
"Polly and Miles aren't gonna make it to the show, baby," he says, setting down his phone. "Trial got extended and Miles needs to look after something on the prosecutors' end."
Disappointment flashes across her face so quickly he's pretty sure he only sees it because he's looking for it, and has been practising looking for it for years.
"Well, at least Baachan and Grandpa are still coming tonight, right?"
"Yeah, they flew down at lunch time. They're really excited."
His parents and Larry are the only ones who have seen him perform before; everyone else has no point of comparison. The intervening years have probably done nothing for his skills except maybe (hopefully) smoothening out his singing voice as his musical directors used to say age tends to, so he hopes their expectations aren't too high, or at least that his parents will be too distracted by their precious granddaughter's magic tricks to compare their son to his college days.
"Great," she says, returning to her homework. "It's been a while since they've come to one of my shows."
There's something in her voice that makes him look at her sideways. Trucy hasn't had stage fright in so many years that he'd forgotten theatre being a new performance form to her might bring it back - that she might, for once, be nervous too. However, she declines to comment further, back to her normal chipper self by the time their car pool picks them up, all smiles during the ride to West Covina.
As he signs them in at the theatre, the stage manager gives Phoenix a knowing smirk. "You two have a fan."
"Huh?" asks Trucy, at the same time as Phoenix breathes, "Miles," because while his mom is definitely the flowers on opening night type, she'll bring them in person; sending them ahead feels like more of a Miles thing. He barely needs to look up from the sign in sheet to see Trucy run towards her workstation, where a frankly too large bouquet sits on her desk.
"It's from Uncle Miles," she confirms after reading the card. "This is so nice of him when he couldn't make it! Oh, Daddy, it's so dazzle-frazzle."
"We put yours in your dressing room," says the stage manager.
Phoenix definitely does not run to his dressing room, where most of his mirror's taken up by a bouquet the same size as Trucy's but with different flowers. He assumes this was the flower shop's doing, since Miles thinks all flowers are the same. The handwriting in the card is a flower shop employee's, not Miles', but it's his incorrigibly stiff yet heartfelt words: Dear Phoenix, Congratulations on your opening night. I'm sorry I couldn't be there on opening night to witness your return to the stage after all these years. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully. Regards, Miles
"Your partner?" asks his next mirror neighbor, who's playing Grimsby.
"Yeah," Phoenix says, before the implications of that word catch up to him. "In court, I mean. My best friend - he sent one to Truce too."
"Sure," says the young man playing Prince Eric, and the knowing smirk on his face makes Phoenix check his own smile in his mirror, which, okay, looks like he's about to swoon in bliss. Over a card signed "regards". Unfortunately, he's been in this too many years to be embarrassed now - probably about as long as this kid's been alive - and Trucy's right, it does make him feel dazzle-frazzle.
"thanks for the flowers," he texts Miles, not expecting a reply tonight, or at least not until later. "they're beautiful. make that paperwork fear you"
As he starts getting ready for the show, he can't stop looking at the bouquet and nor can he stop smiling. The rest of the cast and crew mistakes it for opening night excitement and he does nothing to dispel this impression even as nervous energy starts to build beneath his pleasure at the flowers. Once they've done vocal and physical warmups and his costume, mic, hair, and makeup are in place, he heads outside for some air that isn't suffocated in setting spray and hairspray. He's content to just breathe and focus, until he hears the last person in this show who needs a vocal warmup.
"I'm Trucy Wright, and I'm fine!"
He turns the corner of the theatre to find her repeating it, her fists clenched in the black gloves she wears for the show.
"Baby, did I just hear you using Polly's self mantra?"
Trucy jumps and turns to him, plastering a smile on her face. "Hi, Daddy! It was ironic."
He raises an eyebrow and waits it out. She may have had more recent and consistent performance experience than he has, but he's more patient, and besides, theatre is his turf. Eventually, she deflates.
"I'm nervous," she confesses. "If I screw up my own magic show, I can redirect the audience, easy, and the only person it affects is me. But if I screw up here, it affects more people, and my friends..."
Oh, Trucy. Phoenix pulls her in for a hug, trusting all the setting spray on his chest to hold. "You've done these effects a million times. You'll be great - you add so much to the show. The show will go on. And if your friends give you any crap about magic mistakes, you can just remind them of all their screwed up lines."
She lets out a giggle at that. "'Oh, shit, I forgot my line' really did spice up 'Fathoms Below', though."
"A little too much for a family show." He lets her go only to lift her hat and ruffle her hair. "Truce, I'm really excited to wreck Ariel's grotto with you."
"It's weird that that's your favorite effect you cue and not, like, turning her into a human," she says, scrutinizing him. "Should I be worried about my props?"
With a laugh, he offers her his arm to head back inside. "No, never."
His skirt doesn't have pockets so he hadn't brought his phone outside with him. When he gets back to his dressing room, Miles has texted him, "You're most welcome. :)" Miles uses smileys so rarely that it gets him smiling irrepressibly all over again.
All too soon the calls start coming in for beginners. He sneaks a peek at the audience from the wings: the house isn't full, but it's still packed; lots of families, though he can't find his parents. It does nothing to dull his excitement.
The overture comes on and the show goes by in a blur. He almost goes onstage in his slides instead of barefoot, kicking them off in the wings. His mic picks up extra noise in one of his shorter scenes. He comes on for the 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' reprise yelling "Ariel" instead of "Ursula" but manages to save it by immediately yelling "Ursula" right after. All the same, the audience is responsive (it is weird being able to see their faces in the light from the LED screen that serves as their backdrop, but it does help him find his parents in the third row center), he gets laughs when assigning Sebastian to look after Ariel, the harmonies in the 'If Only' quartet just click tonight, and he's smiling so wide in the finale without having to do it on purpose. He missed this: being someone else for a while, telling a story, finding and sharing emotional truths through his body and voice, trusting the cast and crew to do what they need to do, that instant audience feedback. This was why he majored in art all those years ago. Sure, he gets some of this in court - the storytelling, the feedback (albeit sometimes in the form of whips, coffee, and hawks; what is with prosecutors), and, when he's working with Miles, the trust - but here the stakes are no higher than touching people's hearts. He loves acting.
As soon as he gets offstage after bows, Trucy throws her arms around him. "That was sooooo fun!"
He loves acting and he gets to share this with his daughter. So much better than college. He hugs her back. "Yeah, Truce, it was. You were perfect."
"And you were brilliant," she says. He notes she doesn't use 'perfect' as well, probably owing to the mic problems and line mishap, which is fair enough.
"Let me get dressed, and then let's go out to the foyer and meet Baachan and Grandpa. Mom always brought flowers to my college shows."
"Ooh, more flowers!" she squeals. "I'll go get out of my stage blacks."
Once they're themselves again (swapping out Triton's amulet for his locket is always a surefire way for him to leave Triton behind), Phoenix takes Trucy to the foyer, where his parents spot them and hurry over before he sees them. As predicted, his mother has flowers for them both, things he recognizes from the garden she started when he moved out but doesn't know the name of. Between those and the glowing compliments on her work, for a while all Trucy says is "thank you".
Then it's his turn. Though they enjoyed his performance, their comments on him are not quite as glowing as those for Trucy; he chalks this up to their nostalgia for the original movie (which they had apparently rewatched before the show in preparation), his only having had six weeks rehearsal, and their general enthusiasm for all things Trucy (his parents really enjoy being grandparents).
Besides, his mom has something else to be enthusiastic about besides his performance: "You used your middle name in the program! You never used to in college."
In college, he'd been too aware of his directors' tendencies to cast only the white kids as leads to want to advertise that he's multiracial by using his blatantly Japanese middle name.
"I'm making up for college," he says, and from the way Trucy looks at him, he knows she knows it's a lie; luckily his parents aren't nearly as perceptive. "You think Tūtū would have liked my tail?"
Eventually his parents claim tiredness from the flight down from San Fransokyo, and say their goodbyes until the weekend, when his dad has booked a family brunch at Downtown Disney before the Sunday show. (Phoenix thinks sometimes of introducing Thalassa to his parents once she finally tells Trucy who she is to her, of showing Thalassa how much of a family their daughter has, but this feels far off.) He takes a quick look around to see if anyone else they know came to the show tonight and just didn't tell him, but, finding no one, makes to leave too, only for Trucy to stop him with a tug on his elbow.
"Daddy, is that Klavier?"
The man Trucy's indicating is wearing a purple hoodie with the hood up and sunglasses, indoors. Unfortunately, he's also wearing a Gavinners belt buckle, which gives him away as Klavier trying to keep anonymous but instead just looking like an asshole. Rather than give him away by calling his name, Phoenix gives him a nod, and to his relief Klavier comes over.
"Wearing sunglasses inside makes you look like an asshole," he informs him. It makes everyone look like an asshole; this is not about what Klavier wore in court when he was seventeen.
"My apologies, Herr Wright," Klavier says. "But tonight is, after all, about Fräulein, yourself, and the team who brought this wonderful show to life, not me, so I didn't want to distract. Here--"
And Klavier thoroughly distracts him by pulling out two bunches of petite red roses from behind his back, offering one bouquet to Trucy and the other to him. Trucy squeals and takes her roses, quickly finding a little tag in the shape of the Gavinners' logo. Phoenix takes his own with a look of bemusement.
"Are you confessing your love for my teenage daughter and me, Klavier?"
Trucy immediately turns the same color as her roses as Klavier coughs.
"Nein! Nein, of course not. Merely my love for her special effects. Fräulein, if you're ever interested in extending your career further, I would love to have you in one of my shows."
Good. Maybe he somehow just didn't know what red roses mean, the color probably seeming generic to him from what his fans must constantly throw at him. Phoenix gives Klavier a small nod as he compliments Trucy on her effects and how she'd tied them to different characters and feelings in the show.
"And you, Herr Wright," Klavier says eventually. "Where have you been hiding that singing voice?"
"My shower is my biggest fan," Phoenix says, and after Trucy frowns at him, adds, "After Trucy, who had to put up with me rehearsing around the apartment."
"You surprised me," Klavier says. "You were a bit sharp in the ending song - unusual, most amateur singers missing their notes sing flat rather than sharp - but don't worry, people were probably too busy watching the wedding to notice. Apart from that, you were better than I expected!"
Should he feel insulted? "Thank you," he says regardless. He'll have to check with the musical director later whether he was in fact sharp.
"My favorite song of yours was the sad song with your daughter, the crab, and the prince near the end--"
"Wait," he says. While talking to Trucy, Klavier had referred to 'your father' and 'the sea witch'. "Have you been failing to call any character their actual name?"
Klavier waves a hand. "Ach, I didn't finish reading the program. Don't worry, Herr Boss has mentioned many times that you played King Triton."
"Have you... never seen The Little Mermaid before?" Trucy asks.
"Nein. It was like when the Hamilton tour came here: I didn't want to set my expectations by watching or listening to it beforehand."
Trucy's mouth is wide open. Phoenix puts one finger beneath her chin and thankfully this seems to be enough of a prompt for her to close it.
"You are the last person I know who I would have expected to not have seen a classic Disney movie before, oh my god," he says. If anyone, he expects Apollo hasn't seen it.
"Achtung! I will go home and watch it immediately," Klavier resolves. "Though I'm sure it cannot compare to what I just witnessed here. Nothing like a live show instead of a studio recording."
He laughs. "Good night, Klavier. Thanks for the roses. My mirror's getting a little full, so--"
"Ach, small dressing rooms? I've had my share."
"Nah," says Trucy. "Mr. Edgeworth just beat you to it."
Klavier looks between them, a smile growing on his face which Phoenix isn't sure he likes. "Ah, of course. My apologies, I'll take them with me, then--"
"No, I'll still take them," Phoenix says, holding the roses protectively to his chest. "In case you forgot, I have seven mermaid daughters who think I don't love them equally."
With a laugh, Klavier bids them good night, waves off Trucy's nth thank you for her roses, and leaves. This time neither Phoenix nor Trucy find anyone they know in the foyer, so they head backstage. While Trucy goes to say goodbye to her friends in the cast, he makes his way to the dressing room assigned to the actors playing Ariel and the Mersisters, knocks on the door with, "It's your dad," and enters when a voice inside tells him to come in.
"Hello, my darling kids," he says; luckily all seven of them are still here. "I've been overloaded with flowers, so I'm giving these to you. Two roses each. From Klavier Gavin."
The overlapped exclamations and reactions as he hands the closest actor the bouquet are not unlike those the Mersisters give him onstage, but he catches the main thread: "You know Klavier Gavin?!"
"Yeah, he's friends with Trucy," he settles for. "He loved the show."
"Oh Holy Mother, Klavier Gavin saw me perform and loved it," says the young lady playing Ariel, sinking to the floor once her roses are safely in hand. "I need this on my resumé now."
Ah, fangirls. He will never understand them, and counts himself lucky that Trucy doesn't get like this. "I mean, if you're putting it on your resumé, I think he called it a 'wonderful show'."
"How did we not notice Klavier Gavin here?!"
"He was trying very hard to be anonymous to make sure the focus would be on us, not him."
"That's so sweet--"
"Klavier Gavin was here!!"
"Have fun," he says, watching two of the Mersisters, unnoticed by the others, discover and get into a fight over the Gavinners' logo tag. "I'm going to get back to my legal darling girl now. Great show, ladies and theydies."
A chorus of thank yous rings out as he leaves their dressing room, and he finds himself grinning as he drops off his flowers from his mom in his dressing room, grabs his bag, and heads home. He and Trucy go through the motions of going to bed - it is, after all, a Thursday night - but he can hear her tossing and turning long after she's said good night and it's not like he's faring any better, so he eventually gives up and gets her out of bed for a hot chocolate and an episode of Pink Princess to try and wind them both down. The last time he was this keyed up hours after a show was in college, a memory spoiled because part of his excitement was that Dollie - Iris had come to the show, so were it not for the fact that he has work and Trucy has school tomorrow, he'd quite enjoy this. As it is, the hot chocolate and Pink Princess work for her, making him feel like less of a failure of a parent for getting her out of bed, and he spends another hour or so staring at the ceiling before falling into weird dreams about Miles and flower fields and Mia shows up at one point, it's really unclear.
In the morning, the director sends around a review which came in overnight and he and Trucy read it over breakfast with growing pleasure. When he finishes, he yanks her into a hug.
"I am so proud of you!"
"Daddy, I wasn't done," she grumbles into his chest, trying to raise her phone for the last few paragraphs.
With a laugh, he drops a kiss on top of her head and picks up his own phone again to link the review to his parents and then to Miles. "Oh, baby, I knew you'd be incredible. Remind me to print two copies of this when I get to the office."
"Two copies?"
"Yeah, one for the office and one for the fridge."
Trucy giggles and looks up, finally finished reading. "Better make it three: Baachan and Grandpa probably haven't gotten around to buying new printer ink, and they're gonna be proud of you as well."
"Please, Truce: you got a whole paragraph singing your praises and another namedrop in the final line, and I got one sentence that typoed my middle name and said I looked too young to be a dad."
Ariel's father Triton was played by newcomer Phoenix Ryuchi Wright, who despite looking at least a decade too young to be the father of seven teenaged to young adult daughters, played a father's anxiety and a brother betrayed with a strong voice and surprising conviction.
"So embarrassing that they messed up your name, we live in Japanifornia," she grumbles on his behalf.
"They probably just don't have macrons installed," he says, having decided to be generous on this in light of all the kudos for Trucy. "Yours was a really good whole paragraph, though. Let's not lose sight of that."
This production made the unusual move of having teen magician Trucy Wright provide special effects. The gamble paid off, with Miss Wright's practical effects adding a certain Disneyland magic the digital projections would not have managed alone. This was particularly effective for Ariel's transformations from mermaid to human and back again, here made into spectacles rather than the usual quick changes off stage or awkwardly hidden onstage. Miss Wright even managed to visually differentiate the spells of Ursula and Triton while never letting one forget that they are, in this script, related.
"I'm already deciding what quotes to pull for my next press kit," she confesses.
"That's my girl."
He hurries her off to school - reading the review lost them some time in their morning routine - and makes his way to the office, where Apollo and Athena are getting ready to go to court. The fact that their case came back to Miles' desk piqued his interest, so he goes with them, and as he's finding a seat in the gallery, his phone lights up.
"Congratulations to you, Trucy, and the cast and crew," Miles texts him. "Ironic that they said you looked too young to be a father when your teenage daughter's in the crew."
"miles at least three people in this cast assumed i knocked up trucy's mom in high school," he replies. And those three people are only those who have either mentioned it to his face or got thrown under the bus by someone else; he has no doubt there were more. "it's fine for them to say i look young. esp bc you'll never guess how old my oldest mer daughter is"
"Late 20s?"
"32!!!!!!!! she's pretty much OUR AGE." It has not stopped horrifying him. He feels like he's playing Gertrude, and he didn't know that could even happen to male actors. "you're never going to guess which one she is either"
"Very well, I accept your challenge, and look forward to watching."
"what show are you rebooking for?"
"Sunday." An afternoon show, Phoenix recalls. "I thought it best to avoid workdays entirely, and Kay is available then too."
"great! everyone says the weekends will be full of kids so have fun with that," he says. Come to think of it, the only kids he's ever seen Miles talking to besides on the witness stand are Pearls and Trucy, and he's always been good with them; he can't picture him surrounded by smaller children who, no offense to their parents, aren't as smart as Pearls and Trucy when they were little. This may be either terrible or hilarious. "we're doing this cute thing where ariel, eric, and ursula go out in costume after the show for pics and stage manager said more of us leads will go out for the matinees"
"If you're still in costume, we'll have to get a photo with the girls." Phoenix smiles at the thought, but Miles isn't done typing. "Shall the four of us go out for dinner afterwards? My treat, as a congratulations for the show."
"i'd love to," he accidentally sends instead of hitting backspace. Too strong, but also too late now. "thanks. i'll let trucy and our carpool know"
After the kids win their trial, Athena takes Juniper to the show, compliments his and Trucy's work, and gives a fascinating rundown of the actors who, to her sensitive hearing, sounded the most sincere: her highlights are Jetsam, Ariel, and one ensemble member specifically when she played a maid but not when she played a sailor; Phoenix apparently sounded the most sincere when worrying about Ariel's safety and the least when railing against humans. Will Powers compliments his acting - he hadn't even told him he was in this; apparently Will just enjoys community theatre - and offers to introduce him to his agent if he's ever interested.
He gets assigned to foyer photos duty after the Saturday matinée. Even besides having to play Triton for longer, up close and personal, and unscripted, it's a busy afternoon for him and Trucy: Gumshoe and Maggey bring their kids and insist on getting a photo with him in costume even though the kids are clearly more interested in Ariel and Ursula. The Tenmas bring them both bouquets of nine-tails flowers and Trucy catches up with Jinxie, before Bonny and Betty draw Trucy into an in depth discussion about the tricks she used.
On Saturday night, Apollo and Vera attend the show together and Klavier watches again, now that he's seen the movie. Vera congratulates him and Trucy with a spark in her eyes not unlike a lawyer who's just realized something about the evidence, and three days later they receive a painting of both of them as merpeople in the mail. (Though merman Phoenix is simply his Triton costume and makeup but with a real tail instead of a skirt, mermaid Trucy's cape is turned into fins and she still has a magician hat. It may be the cutest fanart of Trucy he's ever seen. Phoenix hangs it in the office next to the review.) After her compliments, Trucy takes her on a tour of the undersea set dressing set up around the photo for people to take photos with; he overhears Trucy talking about the expanding foam used for the coral as they go.
It's a surprise to him when Apollo mentions he knew their Ariel from when they were kids, considering she only moved to Japanifornia for college, but he doesn't get the chance to pry into this before it emerges that his assumption that Apollo hadn't seen The Little Mermaid was correct: Apollo, like Klavier a few days ago, enjoyed the show as a new-to-him story as well as for the performances and production values and, like Phoenix some weeks ago, attempts to get into the legalities. Phoenix gently shuts him down with Miles' question of where exactly under the sea they are.
"Legal questions aside, I did like the show once more," says Klavier. Apparently having taken Phoenix's comment about looking like an asshole wearing sunglasses inside to heart, he's wearing a face mask to disguise himself tonight instead. "It's nice, using songs to tell a story. Maybe I'll give it a try one of these days. What did Fatboy Slim call that album about the Philippine First Lady, a concept album...?"
That thought is making Apollo faintly green, so Phoenix contemplates community theatre group confidentiality for only about a second before telling him, "These guys are putting on a show called RENT this winter." He doesn't know if Klavier acts, but he sings and plays guitar, and that makes him Roger material. "You should have a listen to it, or watch the movie; see if you might want to audition."
"Just please do not write a concept album about Khura'inese royalty," Apollo blurts out.
Phoenix decides not to question why Apollo's mind went there, but he does agree. "Yeah, Apollo won't say it because he's also white, but you're too white to write that album."
"Don't worry, my dear attorneys, the idea had never occurred to me," Klavier says cheerfully, as Trucy and Vera make their way back to them, Vera looking nervous. "But thank you for the suggestion of RENT, Herr Wright. Forehead, Fräuleins, would you like to come over and watch it with me tonight?"
"What?" says Apollo, with a sideways glance at Vera. "No, I can't: I'm taking Vera home."
"I'm free," Trucy says hopefully.
"Nice try, kiddo, but we're going home too," says Phoenix. "We've got brunch with Baachan and Grandpa tomorrow morning." Also, he would prefer she didn't go alone to movie nights with rockstars. She can wait till her brother can come too so they can supervise each other.
Klavier's eyes soften above his mask. "Ah, yes, family is important. Some other time, then."
Apollo, Vera, and Klavier say their goodbyes after that, and walk off discussing whether or not Grimsby looked like Miles. (From what he can hear, Klavier thinks so, Apollo disagrees, and Vera, who hasn't met him, is confused.) As he and Trucy wait for the rest of the people in their carpool to finish up at the theatre, he leans over and kisses the side of Trucy's hat, too lazy to take it off to kiss her forehead.
"Hey - two show day's over," he tells her. "Just one more show and then we get a break."