The system was flawed, no doubt about that. Gant was living proof of that fact. As he himself had been corrupted by it. Gant arguably had once been a good detective. A good cop. But Von Karma himself could never ascribe to such a title. He was hated in every sense of the word by all manner of people who pretended to know him when in fact none of them did. And he didn't want them to.

His celebrity status had unfortunately come with..all kinds of conjecture. The rumours circulated endlessly through the prosecution office, and thus he was painted in part to color the imaginations of every fool that believed in such nonsense to begin with. "The man with the scary face", or so he was nicknamed by certain individuals. What merits they bore was a thing of much debate.

Even here in this place the air was thick with hearsay and gossipmongers trying to condemn him for the things Miles Edgeworth had said. His reputation did precede him, indeed.

"..Hm."

A minor sound is given as his features harden further and his lips crease into a vicious, if not wolfish smile. He could see where such a dastardly plan hatched between the two of them could be useful against his many enemies. Who would expect them to make ties, after all? Not to say that he was desperate for company or that allies were to be desired, but Gant had never been incompetent in all his days of knowing him.

"Fine. But only under the condition that you know your place. And you act with subtlety."

Sealing a deal with a demon was nothing he hadn't managed to do before, and thus he'd reach across to breach the space between them as his eyes glittered. Skin met leather with no hesitance, forming a formal agreement through the touch itself.

"Consider this a binding accord."