"Hey, I thought you were the one who initially suggested that going to a gay bar was a bad idea due to the fact that it's illegal! Now you're telling me to strip? Here? In front of everyone?" Phoenix laughed hysterically, having to shout in order to be heard over the deafening - but strangely manipulative and catchy - beats of the dance music roaring throughout the lively, epileptic, club which the hut that many of the homosexual population of Japanifornia called 'home' was currently housing. Kristoph cast a cursory glance at the beautifully arranged strings of electric, multicoloured, cheap lightbulbs strewn across the cosy place similarly to baubles upon a crude Christmas tree - in bulk -, before shrugging with the, easily-formed, smug facial attire of a man on top of his game.
"I don't know. The guy seemed to think you'd be great for the job." The taller man grinned at Phoenix with that slender, excessively tanned, arm outstretched in an uncharacteristically informal gesture towards the goofy-looking bartender before continuing;
"And, anyway, speaking of jobs... It could be good work experience,"
"Work experience?" The spiky-haired man guffawed loudly, abruptly refusing to acknowledge any of the seriousness of the matter in favour of turning the whole idea into a joke.

Phoenix wasn't a common whore, after all.

"Experience for what? I'm an artist of the law! What business would I have in the sex industry?"
"I still have no idea what the hell you mean by 'artist of the law', you know." Kristoph smirked, cocking his head to the side as he leant back on the countertop - which caused the spiky-haired man to internally cringe as he noted how the action slightly shifted the expensive shirt which had been adorning the man, exposing a little of the equally badly tanned skin beneath it.
"I-I've explained it to you before!" The shorter man exclaimed, a tinge of embarrassment flushing on his cheeks as he felt the usual torment about whatever the heck his job was float into the conversation once again.
"Remind me what it entails again?"
"I-I draw..." Phoenix's voice slowly became more and more subdued and he stared down dubiously at the floor, his peachy cheeks positively ablaze by this point.
"Yes, I got that part, but what exactly does it have to do with the law?"
"I bring justice through my drawings...! Yeah, that's what I... D-Do..." The spiky-haired man averted his stunningly ocean-blue, glittering, eyes' gaze away once again, causing the taller man to snicker;
"You don't actually have a job, do you, Phoenix? I don't even understand how you get by without any money. Especially when you spend what little you have on 'gay bars'."
"I-I do have a job! It's real, I swear...!" The shorter man insisted, those entrancingly open, honest, sapphire puppy-eyes widened only with a blazing passion.

Not that Kristoph's logical mind could understand half of those extravagant words in that context, though.

"B-Besides, I live with Larry! He doesn't mind. He's great... I've known him since we were kids. He's a little sappy when it comes to girls, but... Larry's a good guy," The spiky-haired man sweetly smiled slightly as he recalled a few memories of the tardily dressed - in fact, that ghastly orange blazer the poor man wore made him look more like a citrus fruit, not that Phoenix would ever tell him - man's light-hearted jostling and harebrained ideas once again. The spiky-haired man would give a lot to relive his younger days, even if it meant Larry getting him into trouble with Miss Pilkington again for talking during class, or even having to go and see the headteacher because Larry had insisted on setting Joshua's trousers on fire to prove he was a liar - Joshua had almost killed them for that, actually, which the idiotic Mr Butz had taken a large dollop of pride in. Those days had been carefree ones. Those days had been the ones before everything had been turned upside down for Phoenix.

They had been before those incidents had occurred, before he'd had to drop whatever future plans he'd had for his occupation, before he'd had to come to terms with his stupid, stupid, sexuality and, most of all, before he'd forgotten how to care. The more he thought about it at this point, the more enticing suicide seemed to the spiky-haired man - and he'd thought about it a lot.

"And, b-besides, I do not spend my money in gay bars! Do you seriously think I want to be arrested?"  The shorter man gingerly set his satisfyingly smooth (yet so ironically unsatisfyingly empty) wine-glass back down upon the, uncomfortably sticky, wooden countertop as he leant back upon it gently, imitating Kristoph's movement with far less success due to his height (or, rather, lack of it) and grace.
"Why don't you take another sip of your wine, Phoenix?" The blonde-haired man teasingly poked at the spiky-haired man's hip's curve, causing the shorter man to jump slightly before glaring at the offender with a slightly hesitant, flustered look. Perhaps he simply didn't know what to say.
"A-Anyway, what was your job again?"
"Attorney at law - a real one, I'm afraid." Phoenix sheepishly ignored the deliberate stab in his side at his suspicious occupation as he continued;
"Oh, so you're another one of Dictator Edgeworth's lapdogs, right?" The spiky-haired man distastefully retorted before he felt a sturdy hand clamp over his mouth, his eyes widening in fear at the sudden sensation as he froze in shock for a moment, paralysed, only allowing his tensed muscles to relax as he realised that the hand was the taller man's - not any type of guard's. Kristoph hissed;
"Shut up, Phoenix! Don't you dare talk like that around here! You are aware of what would happen to you if a guard or - heaven forbid - Leader Edgeworth himself heard you, aren't you?" The hand moved slightly, not so as to allow the apprehended to speak, but to move his face down to meet the assailant's eyes once again. Phoenix meekly nodded, unable to do much else but blink until the lights slid back into focus once again, out of the blurry haze the shock had forced him to blunder into.
"Don't you dare let me hear you give him that title once again - you hear me? You're lucky I haven't apprehended you myself. It's my job to stop this sort of thing, after all." The hand slid off.
"I-I'm touched,"
"You idiot."

Phoenix was, at first, as startled as a deer caught in headlights as the words rolled off of the other man's tongue so effortlessly as he was pulled into a rough kiss against the countertop, his ass suddenly rammed into the wood he'd previously been casually leaning on, Kristoph attacking - savaging - his rounded lips and, as much as the shorter man wanted to make it stop, wanted to push this stranger off of him and creep back into his usual untrusting state - induced by Dahlia Hawthorne when she'd left his heart in tiny little pieces back in that college of law he'd later forced himself to drop out of despite his dreams -, the wine seemed to have numbed his brain, telling him that one-night stands were completely normal and that this man seemed safe.

The problem was, brains could be fed false information from bad sources. Wine was not a good source, that much was for sure.

So, when Kristoph eventually broke this kiss with a confident smirk and looked down at him, Phoenix couldn't help but blurt;
"Does this mean we've started something..?"
"Yeah, it does."

Beneath the hubbub and continuous distortion of the speakers, the bartender could be heard smugly stating;
"I told you you'd be good at being in the sex industry."