Sophie

The prosecutor turned, surprised at the hesitant tap on her shoulder. The autumn sun was low in the sky, momentarily obscuring the figures standing together near the doors to the courthouse. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes. Under the drape of the mechlin lace that poured down from her sleeves, she caught a glimpse of a little girl. Their eyes met in that moment- Franziska's clear grey with the child's great dark brown. The prosecutor's hand instinctively rose, clutching near her wounded shoulder- even before she had been shot there, it was a habitual gesture to guard herself. There was something altogether new in those young eyes trained on her.

"Prosecutor von Karma?" said a woman at Franziska's side, obviously the child's mother.

She raised her head, invisibly shaking off her surprise and turned. "I did not expect to find an admirer on the courthouse steps this afternoon," she pronounced. The little girl's mouth popped open as von Karma looked back down at her, inclining her head. "It is a most pleasant surprise."

"Prosecutor von Karma..." the little girl gasped. She was clothed in a perfect replica of Franziska's most common court attire, right down to a small, floppy length of faux-leather she was now worrying in her hands. A miniature cravat encircled her throat with crisp linen. The fabric was nowhere near as fine as the real thing; most of the garments were broadcloth, but it was, all in all, an admirable attempt.

Franziska sank down on her heels. "You did an admirable job, child." The little girl's eyes widened marginally before warming into a shrewd look she cast at the prosecutor.

"How did you know that she made it herself?" exclaimed the child's mother.

"Prosecutor von Karma knows everything," said her daughter, slowly crossing her arms. "Obviously."

"Oh, of course." The man behind her placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, smoothed her dark, wavy hair where the wind had put some of the heavy locks askew. She leaned into his hand. "She used her grandma's sewing machine."

"Daddy's a tailor. I'm going to be a perfect tailor one day!" she declared, gesturing with her small fist so that the length of leather flapped with a soft thwack. "Perfect, like a von Karma!"

Franziska's eyes shone; she did not laugh but stood again. "I must go. Do you watch my trials, child?" she added.

"Always!" she said. "I never miss them. My watch record is--"

"Perfect?" Franziska waved her finger. "Good. Listen well: the next time that I appear in court," she nodded back at the building falling into shadow. "When I go like this--" she extended her hand out, and her eyes flashed with eager pride. "When I make this gesture, I shall be saluting you, my little admirer." She finally let her face fall into a warm grin at the child's awe. This is what was so new: the admiration, guileless and freely given. The prosecutor did not look back as she walked away to her waiting car, but she sank into the seats smiling gently to herself.