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Damon hadn’t known lawyers to be so damn stubborn. It almost made it seem as if Wolfgang actually cared about him. (The idea alone was so preposterous Damon felt ridiculous for even thinking it.)
Most likely, the truth was that the Ultimate Lawyer wasn’t used to how Damon treated him, to how Damon contradicted the consensus and denied Wolfgang the absolute victory he usually was certain of. And if Damon was really funny, he’d say that Wolfgang was vexed by how he wasn’t able to solve the mystery that Damon was.
Tsk. As if.
Wolfgang claimed that the other Ultimates would be able to suppress their ambitions as Ultimates and not participate in Eden’s Garden’s killing game. But for somebody who claimed it so loudly, he himself was certainly terrible at suppressing his own Ultimate talent.
(Otherwise Wolfgang wouldn’t follow Damon and try to convince him of the alleged “truth”.)
It started like this: After their mock class trial and the killing game’s announcement, Damon had barely managed to escape the group’s scowling and disapproving murmurs when he already felt Wolfgang trailing behind him.
That in itself wasn’t too strange because as far as Damon had understood from Tozu’s brief explanation, the dorms were in the same building he and “Wolfie” had first met in. Maybe Wolfgang had wanted to retire into his private room after this draining trial, who knew?
From the corners of his eyes, Damon noticed that Wolfgang wasn’t taking any doors to the private dorms. Instead, he followed Damon into the kitchen corner right up to the closet door, behind which Grace had woken up.
Okay.
Wolfgang crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned sideways against the closet door, attentively watching how Damon rummaged through the cupboards until he found a glass and some orange juice in the fridge. If Wolfgang noticed how pointedly Damon was ignoring him, then Wolfgang too did a good job in ignoring that.
Damon picked up his glass with orange juice, turned and leaned against the counter with his glass in one hand, regretting his decision at the sight of those weird paintings along the wall. He shot Wolfgang one of his characteristically pissed glances but would be damned if he spoke first. He had already said everything he’d wanted to say down in the trial room.
At last, Wolfgang broke the silence.
“We are adults.” Wolfgang lifted his chin as if in unspoken challenge, and from his long experience with argument structures, Damon already knew what he was aiming at: We can solve our problems like adults. Let’s not be childish.
But who of them was the childish one, really?
Damon lifted his forefinger away from his glass to interrupt before Wolfgang could go on. “We’re also Ultimates. Two Ultimates who aren’t deluded by pretty ideas but are dealing in truths if you have forgotten that.”
He took a sip of his orange juice but kept a side-eye on Wolfgang over the rim of his glass. He could’ve just as well stared at the orange liquid he was drinking, so little use it was to watch Wolfgang. Damon would’ve probably got more answers from the orange juice’s ripples than he got from Wolfgang’s perfectly even face.
Why did they even have this conversation?
“I believe I remember that debaters are good listeners, like we lawyers are. You don’t seem to listen to anyone much, do you?” Wolfgang asked in his perfectly polite manner that made Damon’s fingers itch.
“What do you want me to listen to, Wolfgang? Your flimsy excuses when I know that I’m right?” Damon allowed the smirk on his face seep into his voice and was surprised how much it satisfied him to see Wolfgang’s forehead crease in reaction. Verbal exchanges was what they both excelled in.
“Oh, do enlighten me, Damon.” Giving in, Wolfgang uncrossed his arms in favour of half a shrug, eyes burning into Damon’s. With a bit of emotion on his face, Wolfgang was more thrilling to debate with, more interesting to watch for tells. “How do you know that you’re right?”
Damon tsked. He twisted to put down his glass of orange juice securely on the counter, thinking with deadly precision how he wanted this conversation to go. In his mind, he played out all possibilities and calculated possible answers Wolfgang could give. It struck him with a surge of excitement (and annoyance) that he couldn’t predict everything yet, not with too many unknown variables concerning Wolfgang.
“Do you usually bring your court cases outside the trial room, Wolfgang?” Damon asked sharply at the counter and as he lifted his head, watched wearily how Wolfgang pushed off the closet door to cross the distance between them. Roughly three inches height difference shouldn’t make that much difference in theory, but Damon still had to put his head back when Wolfgang stopped right in front of him.
“No,” Wolfgang said and pushed his hands into his side pockets, assuming his characteristic assessing facial expression. “But I’ll make a special exception just for you. Tell me, Damon, are these the qualities of the Ultimate Debater? Claim something without evidence? Refute me, go on.”
Wolfgang leaned forward, making use of his superior height, his blue-grey eyes so intense Damon unwillingly held his breath and tensed, unable to tear his eyes away. Wolfgang stared unashamedly into Damon’s eyes, waiting for an answer.
“That’s right,” Wolfgang said lowly and straightened up when none came. Somehow, how he considered Damon was different from what Damon had seen on the other Ultimates’ faces. It wasn’t contempt nor pity. “You have as little evidence as I do. Technically, we are acting on the same basis of facts. But allow me to tell you one thing that sets me apart from you, Damon. As the Ultimate Lawyer, I am proactive. Not reactive.”
“Oh, so you’re an ultimate people connoisseur too now?” In his irritation, Damon found his voice again, feeling venom rise in his soul and making its way to his tongue. Maybe it was because he was an Ultimate, but Damon couldn’t keep out of arguments either. “Think you can keep everybody’s ambitions down from killing someone?”
You can’t even keep your own ambitions down, Damon thought again, feeling the ridiculous need to laugh at Wolfgang bitterly. He’d trust Eva more than believe in Wolfgang’s childish trust in everyone not starting the killing game.
“No,” Wolfgang objected curtly. “But I trust everyone here. I trust that they, as Ultimates, will do the right thing. And I’d like for you to reconsider your stance.”
“Because of which arguments?” Damon asked and pushed off the counter, now his turn to stand too close to Wolfgang. Instead of staring down at the shorter boy from up this close, Wolfgang reached for his perfectly straight tie and looked down to straighten it again, seemingly just to have something to drop his eyes to and not look at Damon.
But Damon had to hand it to him; Wolfgang didn’t step back. If Damon wasn’t feeling so angry, he might’ve found some respect for this steadiness maybe. And if this killing game wasn’t the subject of their discussion, maybe he might’ve enjoyed this.
“As the Ultimate Debater, you should be able to relate. You have as few facts as I do.”
“Facts?” Damon barked out a laugh, at which Wolfgang met his gaze, not as calmly as the times before. No, underneath the surface, Damon could see a storm of emotions well up. “The only fact is that there are no facts, Wolfgang.”
“The Liar’s Paradox,” Wolfgang mumbled and dropped his gaze back to the forgotten glass of orange juice on the counter. He probably tried to derail the conversation, shifting back into a thoughtful expression, but he seemed to have forgotten who he was talking to. And Damon had little regard for feelings when it came to concise arguments.
Plus, when evidence was missing, Damon was inclined to mistrust Wolfgang.
“You know what’s funny?” Damon asked, and the sharpness in his tone was nothing short of a blade drawn for murder. He was going in for the kill, intending to drive the point home. Maybe this would get Wolfgang to beat it. “A debater cannot have a debate when everybody agrees on the subject matter. A lawyer cannot have a case without a victim and a culprit. Speak as much as you want, Wolfgang, but the Ultimate Lawyer can only work when a crime has been committed.”
“So what?” Wolfgang’s eyes widened, offended, and gone was the restraint from his voice. Just like in the mock trial.
“Just continue pretending to be a sheep. I’ll soon see where it will get you,” Damon said and flicked his fingers against the sheep pin on Wolfgang’s lapel. He did not see the hand coming, but suddenly it closed around his tie and grabbed it hard, pulling Damon in.
Wolfgang leaned down so that their heads almost touched and hissed: “You may only ever argue your standpoint, but I will make you see the truth, Damon Maitsu. Mark my words. This is not over yet.”
As suddenly as he’d grabbed onto Damon’s snake tie, Wolfgang let go and lifted the hand to press it against his face with a haunted expression, eyes staring blankly into nothingness. As close as the boys were, Damon could hear his rattling breaths, contrasting with his own pants. And then –
“I’m sorry. Please excuse me for now.” Wolfgang lowered his hand, face perfectly even again, gave a little bow, turned around, and strode away, leaving Damon alone in the kitchen.