To anyone reading this: Please note that the real story only starts at around chapter 4 or 5. Because the first three chapters are just really aimless.

A/N This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but after some deliberation, I altered it a bit and decided to make this a proper story. With a storyline and everything. Cool, right? … This chapter is pretty short compared to my usual works—don't worry, the rest will be longer. But first, let me warn you: I am too used to angst; this attempt at lighthearted humor… well, it's… not funny. There, I said it. (goes into a corner and bawls) Right. This fic has Klema. Duh. Okay. Now, on with the story.

EDITED as of June 18 2010 for different formatting, paragraphing, and minor revisions in general as well as a small addition.

Chapter One: Security Detail

Shattering music filled the corridor, amplified a thousand times by the speakers strewn across the premises. There was an epigrammatic riff from the main guitar (or at least as epigrammatic as a guitar could ever contrive to sound), soon taken over by the lead singer and cheers drifted through the hallway as the male sang the chorus to the beats of the drums, the low strums of the bass guitar…

It made her sick.

It wasn't just the horrible music—it was the very voice of the singer that annoyed her to no end. Somehow, instinctively, an unpleasant and thoroughly irritated feeling would permeate her being when the instruments were replaced by a human voice. And this was because, as the lead singer, it would be him that was singing it. The most insufferable, ridiculous, unprofessional, cocky, arrogant, rude, infuriating, glimmerous fop in the history of glimmerous fops.

She tore the Snackoos apart with venom, stuffing five or six into her mouth every three seconds. Stupid security detail on his stupid rock concert. Then, as a new wave of applause overcame the passageway, she knew that they had finally finished the first part of their concert. But that was worse—that meant he'd be coming backstage and it also meant that his infamous fan girls would once again try to force and/or sneak their way in. Great, just great.

With a bag of Snackoos at the ready, Detective Ema Skye strode down the corridor to the entrance that the fan girls so enjoyed taking, which happened to be furthest from where the rock band disembarked from the stage.

Amazingly, Gavin didn't seem to notice her in the far end—perhaps because the band members were surrounding him, all excitedly talking (apparently, they had really 'rocked' out there)—and parted with the band, heading straight for the dressing room. Probably to get his hair done again, Ema thought sourly. Although, mercifully, I managed to miss an encounter with the fop.

To her surprise, Trucy and Apollo appeared at the other end of the corridor, and after a brief conversation that included some squealing from Trucy, disappeared into the Gavinners' dressing room.

Ema turned her attention back to the backdoor. The fans wouldn't go directly by this way—no, it would be through the cluttered, dark mess that was a little while away from this door. And, she thought, sighing, it's my job to keep them out. How the heck am I supposed to do that? Well, it was possible that they would stay in their seats before the second part of the concert—the intermissions weren't particularly lengthy, and they might wait for the end of the concert to swarm. It was at that moment that a squeal of triumph crushed her growing hope.

The groups of fans were disposed of in a manner not befitting of this text.

"How rough, fräulein. Perhaps you should have disposed of them in a more… seemly fashion?" Ema swore. Only one person she knew could effectively communicate a smirk through speech and her mood dropped considerably.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH. "Maybe—MUNCH—and maybe—MUNCH—not." She forced herself to turn around and look at her boss. Disappearing round the corner were Apollo, Trucy and Lamiroir. It didn't seem as though the attorney and his assistant noticed her—they were far to busy bickering.

Just like siblings, Ema suddenly thought. Huh. I guess they've become really close. Who knew? The stream of thoughts that passed through her mind were a futile attempt at distracting herself from the man in front of her; how could she possibly miss that ridiculous "G" necklace that dangled from his neck? Right. In. Front. Of. Her. Face.

"It is considered good etiquette to reply to a statement, fräulein. Or at least acknowledge it."

"MUNCH—Huh?—MUNCH—Did you say—MUNCH—something?" Ema chewed viciously on her snacks. It's also considered good etiquette to—do you have any concept of personal space at all? Klavier Gavin leaned in even further, the clunky chain very nearly swiping her nose. Ema refused to step back even an inch.

"Why yes, I did. I was wondering if you would care to give me one of those snacks you seem to adore."

Famous last words.

Or they would be, if he weren't her boss, and if he weren't so adept at dodging her projectiles. "Careful, detective. I could get hurt, ja?" He neatly caught the flying Snackoo and examined it carefully. "I must thank you for the Snackoo, however."

Ema widened her eyes in shock and outrage. "You… you fop!" she said dangerously. "Give that back!"

"You did give it to me…"

"I did not!" Ema fumed. "Now, Gavin! Or I swear…"

Gavin appeared to be distracted as he suddenly cocked his head to one side. "I apologize, fräulein. I must leave you now—the stage beckons, and the crowd calls for more." And with that, he flicked the Snackoo back to Ema and departed with a casual wave of his hand.

At least she got the Snackoo back. Catching it expertly, she popped it into her mouth and crunched. The detective tried to push down the antipathy and exasperation that rose in her, but even in her boss' absence, the lingering aftereffects of his goading… lingered.

And Lana wondered how her personality did a flip on its head. Well, for one thing I failed the forensics exam. Alone, maybe that would have been just okay, but then I come here expecting Mr Edgeworth. And then I'm informed that he's in Europe. So who's my boss? Why, none other than Klavier Gavin. Apart from the fact that he's a glimmerous fop, he's also the one who disbarred Mr Wright! Ema's blood boiled at the thought. Nothing ever goes right. Lana sends her spoilt sister all the way to Europe for a first-class education. And then she flunks the test with flying colors and gets her dream job, Ema thought sarcastically.

The woman shook her head, trying to dislodge her self-pity and forced it all down with a firm swallow. She listened calmly to the music that flowed from the walls… it was a good song. W-Well except for the melody, of course! It had been Gavin who came up with the tune, so… Wait. Did he come up with the words or the tune? Well, whichever he came up with was the bad part, she decided. Shaking her head, Ema leaned against the wall to appreciate the comparatively soft notes that touched her ears…

Another intermission. Ema knew she should have kept her eyes peeled during Lamiroir's section in case anything happened, but she had closed her eyes to listen to the song. It wasn't like anything else would be stolen, she was sure.

As Gavin strode off the stage to admiring whistles, Ema moved into the shadows, hoping he would miss her. He seemed to see her in the dark corner, but continued to entertain Apollo and Trucy, glancing back at her as he entered the dressing room.

Once he was out of sight, she stepped back out of the darkened corner to stand guard, and did indeed stave off a small crowd of fans that tried to sneak their way in. Same old, same old. Can't they give me a break, for once? There is an autograph session after all. Scientifically speaking, it amounts to the same thing: a face-to-face encounter with that glimmerous fop and a signature on a little piece of paper, minus the grumpy detective on security detail. Hooray.

Trucy and Gavin exited the dressing room just as she shooed away, what, twenty-two more fans? They had depleted the rest of her Snackoo packet, so she withdrew another pack from her handy supply that she kept in her knapsack. It seemed, Ema thought as she watched Trucy trundle off into the audience, that Apollo wouldn't be watching the third part of the concert. Good choice, she had to admit.

"Can you believe it?" Gavin muttered under his breath as he approached. "It was priceless! It was amazing! And look what happened…"

Uh oh. Angry German rock star alert. Maybe in his anger he wouldn't spot her…?

She wasn't sure what to expect in an angry Gavin, having never seen him so aggravated, or even agitated at all. And yet it seemed as though his anger was being held back, like there was some comforting fact that kept it from overflowing. Ema would later learn that his precious guitar had been burnt to a crisp and the silver lining was that the audience had mistook this accident for a well thought out stunt.

"So how about that Snackoo?" a certain blonde prosecutor asked. She jerked up at the sudden noise, watching him carefully. He seemed to have controlled his annoyance though she could still see he was irked.

"Ugh. Go away, Gavin," she said, wondering if his reactions would be any different or if he could conceal his rage till the end. She ripped open her new pack of Snackoos.

"Hm? What this, fräulein? More snacks?" His tone was light, watching as Ema took a handful and chewed on them with gusto. "Ah, I see. I should have known, of course…" Gavin eyed the deceivingly small pouch by her side. With a quick motion akin to a viper's strike from the grass, he shot out an arm and swiftly unbuttoned her bag, snatching a packet of Snackoos into the air.

"Hey!" Ema cried indignantly, spraying crumbs into the air. "Give that back!" She gave him a death-glare that, instead of making him drop dead on his feet like she had intended, sent him into uncontrollable laughter. "What the heck? What's wrong with you?" She reached out for the Snackoos agitatedly, but he raised it high above his head. "C'mon, put it down!"

The forensics fanatic jumped up and down in an attempt to rescue those precious Snackoos, hoping that the technicians would call him to the stage soon and he would have to relinquish the bag of snacks. His blue eyes twinkling with mischief, a smirk on his tanned face, Klavier Gavin was, scientifically speaking, a very, very tall fop. Dammit.

"I'm not here to play games with you, Gavin. And this is going way too far for a joke!" the detective yelled angrily, trying to sweep her boss off-balance and, as such, retrieve the Snackoos from the floor if necessary. By hook or by crook, those Snackoos were hers! As they rightfully should be.

Making another desperate lunge for her hopeless addiction, Ema managed to grab hold of the end of the packet. "Yes!" she hissed in victory. Oh please, please don't rip, dear Snackoo bag. It didn't, but having been thrown even more off-balance by Ema's pounce on the pack, Gavin tumbled down, bringing Ema with him.

With one hand triumphantly clutching her prize, Ema found herself in rather awkward situation. On top of her boss in a position she'd rather not be discovered in, with her free hand resting heavily on his chest from the impact—accident or not, Ema exuded embarrassment in every possible way. She looked up from his "G" chain and into a pair of surprised, deep azure eyes. In a not-very-pleasant way, they morphed from shock to a cheeky glint.

Oh no. Oh, please no. Oh God, no.

Eye to eye, Ema's cobalt irises were inadvertently sucked into Gavin's icy blue ones that sparkled dangerously with mischief. His lips were curling up into a smile—no, the woman told herself. It was definitely a smirk—and there was no doubt that his sinisterly wayward expression could not bode well.

There was a frozen, horrific, crazed moment in time.

With a smirk still on his face, Gavin cocked his head to one side and said, "As much as I would like to stay in this rather pleasant position—and," he added. "As much as I appreciated your staring, I am afraid I have to depart for the concert. You will be waiting for me, ja?"

Ema's mouth slammed open in pure shock and outrage. She quickly shut it in case something flew in. "Y-you fop—w-wha—give me the Sna—Y-you glimmerous fop!" she finally managed, and scrambled off him. The tanned man seemed pleased, and carefully picked himself up. He gave her a self-satisfied grin and left for the stage.

Ema scowled, a light tinge of pink still on her cheeks (which was an improvement from her previously flaming visage), and stuffed the retrieved packet back into her pouch as she withdrew a Snackoo from her already half-opened pack.

Trademark munching ensued. She blushed again as she struggled to forget that… that thing, that incident, but even as she did so, her heart beat unsteadily. Well, she figured, who wouldn't be nervous after such an awkward moment? She'd have to be some kind of freak to not think about it.

Get a hold of yourself, Ema Skye. This reaction is perfectly normal. No use over-thinking it. It was just as well that music broke out onstage, because essentially, the blaring rock did prevent her from thinking. About anything at all, because it was impossible with the loud… did they call it music?

As she spotted Apollo emerging from the dressing room and wandering along the corridor, she decided that she would do well with another distracti—No, no, I didn't just think that, because I have nothing to distract myself from! Trying as best as she could not to think, she strode to Apollo and struck up a conversation.

A/N Pity that Ema ended up eating Snackoos the whole time she talked with Polly… I guess she really mulled over that incident with Klavier. Terrible end to a chapter, but there it is. I didn't show much of Klavier's angry side in this—that'll come in the next chapter, I think. He wasn't as angry as he should have been after his guitar caught on fire, but I think I can get away with saying that was because he talked to Ema after Trucy and Apollo told him the audience thought he'd set fire to his guitar on purpose. Again, I know this chapter was really short (my sincere apologies); I promise, the rest will be lengthier. This chapter was inspired by the multiple fics of Ema's security detail. Yes, an awkward situation similar to this appeared in most of them. Overused, maybe. Don't forget to review!