Okay, this is probably a bad idea, but my current project includes so many little throwaway lines that I want to follow up on, that I just had to make this compilation. I have no idea if the small-novel-of-a-fic is even going to see the light of cyber-day or not, but I'm excited nonetheless.

Anyway, this is going to display rather blatant (as it's a previously established and (depending on the setting, time-wise) long-term relationship) PxE... but I doubt it'll ever be anything particularly serious. Other warnings... probably spoilers for the games through Apollo Justice, (AAI's safe, since I haven't even spoiled that game for myself, yet) and excess amounts of Larry. I have no idea why (and I'm positive that this is going to sound suspicious) but I have a soft spot for the Butz.

This is more of an introductory piece, than anything else, but the fluff still made me smile while writing it. I hope it works that way for the reader, too. ;)

When it came to graduation, like so many other school-related activities, Trucy had no trouble spotting her father.

It wasn't the fact that, as usual, he'd found a spot next to Miles—garbed, predictably as ever, in magenta—or that Maya and Pearl stuck out like sore thumbs, in all of their abnormal glory… it was the fact that he was wearing that same old hat.

Throughout most of her school life, Trucy had only to look for a spot of bright blue in a crowd, and she'd know where to find her daddy. This had been especially reassuring during those first few talent shows, and the inescapable school plays from elementary school, when it was nice to know that someone wasn't going to judge her based solely on her performance on stage. She'd made that hat all on her own, some time after the trial that had brought them together, and Phoenix had been sure to keep it from being neglected. Sure, he couldn't wear it during trials where he wasn't the defendant—it was kind of scary how often he seemed to be accused of wrongdoing, actually—but Trucy could hardly blame him for not wearing the cap to work; she'd already had a hand in costing him his attorney's badge, once, after all, and she wanted nothing to do with anything that might lose it, again. Besides, now that she'd gotten through high school, it was pretty obvious that—as carefully as she'd made the hat, all those years ago—it didn't look very professional… in fact, it was a little garish, with the pink lettering, and her father's own addition of that silly pin-slash-camera from Ema. Trucy could see why Apollo thought it looked stupid, actually.

But that didn't change the fact that Phoenix had always worn it.

Though her father didn't always have the greatest fashion sense, the magician was sure that even he recognized the…effect it had. It had certainly come with quite a few snide remarks from her 'uncles' when they first saw it, in any case… not that Larry had much room to talk, with that funny beret he'd insisted on wearing back then… and Miles's fondness for 'not-pink' was a little suspicious, too. If the atmosphere hadn't been so formal, Trucy would have scowled (belatedly) on Phoenix's behalf—they had no right to make fun of her daddy like that!

Although, she amended, it could be really funny to listen to Phoenix and Miles argue, sometimes… like in that court case, last week, when some witness had gone off on a tangent about peanut butter, right on the stand. From where she'd been sitting in the gallery, it had taken everything Trucy had not to burst out laughing—every 'Objection!' had seemed to grow more and more desperate for some shred of logic, as the testimony got further out of hand. It was surprising that nobody else—particularly the judge (or maybe not. It was hard to tell with that guy.)—had noticed that every argument made, after a certain point, was practically screaming 'I think we're the only sane people in here!'.

…It was nice to know that, even if she toured around and reinvented Troupe Gramarye after all of this, there would be someone to keep her father company… and to keep him in check. Phoenix could be a little strange sometimes—Trucy was fully aware of that—but she also knew (and had known for a very long time) that he was a good man, with a keen mind and a strong sense of justice.

Quite suddenly, she felt tears welling up in her eyes, and tried to brush them away as subtly as possible. Thinking about the future—away from the home she'd known for a great portion of her life—was frightening, and she didn't like dwelling on such thoughts, but it had to be done. She was going to revolutionize the entertainment field, after all, and that wasn't going to happen by itself. Sure, there had been gracious offers from old friends of her father's—the most notable being from 'Mister Max' from the Berry Berry Big Circus—but this was something Trucy had to do on her own.

With newly dried eyes, she looked out over the crowd again, quickly spotting the speck of blue she'd been seeking, and smiled, knowing what her dad would say—and had said—to that: just because she had to do something on her own didn't mean that she would have to be by herself.

It was funny, really, how such a clumsily made token could become associated with feelings of safety, comfort, and—ultimately—family, long after it had become recognized as childish. As she tossed her own cap into the air, alongside her peers, Trucy vowed that it was time to give that old hat a rest.