#prosecutorinchief

Klavier wasn’t a fan of guns either. Never had been, and even less since Daryan had used one to kill an Interpol agent. Seeing people using guns mad  the prosecutor angry. To him, guns where weapons of cowards.

Thank you.

He took the offered cup and gently moved it in his fingers for a bit before taking a sip. He hardly ever made tea for himself, but he remembered drinking a lot of it when his brother had still been around. Kristoph’s tea had always been perfect. But the tea Miles Edgeworth made was definitely a match to Kristoph’s.

The police is currently out to collect the suspect and bring it to the ward. They’ll inform me when they are on their way back so that I can get ready for interrogation. I sent the gun and some other samples to the forensic team - I’m quite sure we can figure out more about what exactly happened once we have taken fingerprints.

…Indeed.”

It was the nature of earthquakes - they did not have a single dose of consideration for the feelings and schedules of others. If Edgeworth had known that there was going to be one that day, he would have planned accordingly. He would have cancelled his evening with Wright and Larry and stayed in.

As it happened, he was not so lucky.

He slowly sat up, aware of Larry panicking beside him. He hated the way he felt when he woke from blacking out like this - trembling, sick to his stomach. He looked dreadfully pale, and took a few breaths to settle himself. He didn’t appear to have injured himself, save for a perpetually bruised ego - but he doubted Larry would have judged him for it.

“I did not mean to upset you,” he said quietly. “I…I apologize. I do not handle earthquakes well at all.” It was a vast understatement. The last time he had experienced one, it had been up on Eagle Mountain at the temple - and it had been just as humiliating then.

Edgey--Edgey, hey...!

It was lucky that Larry had decided to meet his old friend in his office as surprise before their dinner outing: he’d been in the Prosecutor’s Office checking in when the earthquake struck. Panic sets in, and before he can be wanded for weapons and all signed in, Larry bolts up the stairs--all twelve flights of them, even in the worst of the tremors--to find Edgeworth. And found him, he does, lying motionless on the ground beneath the heavy mahogany desk. With tears blinding his vision, Larry tries shaking his friend’s shoulder and even laying his head on Edgeworth’s chest in desperate search for a heartbeat, and that’s when Edgeworth’s eyes finally open. Whew! 

Take it easy, man. Don’t move too much! 

These blackouts must have been really serious. Nick had mentioned the Eagle Mountain temple incident to him, but since Larry had never seen an episode like this firsthand, he wasn’t sure whether to believe Nick or not. Larry is shaking so badly now, however, that his hand on Edgeworth’s shoulder must feel like a miniature aftershock.

prosecutor-in-chief: [Moved for ease of replying.]

It was going to be a late night. It was one thing that never really seemed to have changed over the years. True, his nightmares had become less and less frequent, and it was also true that he was up late working less to escape and more for the pleasure of it all. Even so, Miles Edgeworth recognized the importance of a good night’s sleep. He recognized it, but he rarely granted it a moment. Crime never slept, the case files never ceased to pass by his desk for consideration, and so, he continued to work. The rare midsummer rain pattered lightly on the windowpanes behind him, low rumbles of thunder over the city in the distance. He considered the paperwork in front of him, elegant fingers tracing over the words as he peered over his glasses. In his other hand was a cup of tea, warm and lightly sweetened, gradually sipped as it if helped him contemplate the words laid out before him. Each case required scrutiny. Each prosecutor under his authority had different strengths; the cases needed to go to the best individual for the job. He was a fair man, but he expected integrity and high proficiency. If they were going to clean up this system, it had to start here. Quietly, he filed another case into a folder to be given - this one to Gavin. The next, he would see in a moment. Oh, it was lonely when he stopped to think of it; he had many friends who cared very much for him, but it was a rare thing that he was able to join them for an outing. Perhaps…perhaps that needed to change. He was a healthier and less awkward man than he had been some ten years prior…

Perhaps Miles heard the elevator to the floor his office was on open up, perhaps not. But out from it, clad in a custom-made sparkly lilac purple rain coat, came the three foot tall yellow bird who dripped a determined trail to Miles’ office door.

One foot balled up into a fist and knocked three times, like a good and polite child. There were many things Edgeworth had taught the little bird, and manners were high on the list. Even when you’re a little grumpy about having to walk like a scrub instead of flying like a cool guy all the way to your destination manners count.

Admittedly “walk like a scrub” for the bird was still a faster running pace over rooftops than many people could bicycle, and definitely faster than rush hour driving.

“You know, years ago I would have found that cute, but now it’s just--- bleh.” He scans the poster with a raised brow. It was for some masquerade ball that was being held downtown. Once upon a time he would have been secretly interested, but now he can only wonder why it was being advertised near the Borscht - it was hardly the most romantic spot.

He glances to Miles, silently trying to read his expression, and then smirks. His other half knew how to dance, right? Maybe this fancy event was right up his alley.

Franziska was breathing heavily, emotionally spent by the speedy chain of events. Her mind was trying to reassess itself from the blur. In all his foolishness, Edgeworth had strolled into a room where a killer lied in wait. Sensing that something amiss, Franziska had ordered the SWAT team to follow, with her at the lead.

When she had seen her sibling visibly threatened, she only remembered pulsing with anger as she rushed to his side. With a panicked surge of energy, she had pulled him away (noteworthy in of itself as Edgeworth was far taller and heavier than her) and struck his attacker with vicious vengeance. She would later be told that her ferocity was akin to that of a cornered animal/ 

But it had not worn off completely, and now she struggled to calm herself. Her brother’s jesting did little to improve her mood.

“You’d deserve a thousand times that amount, Miles Edgeworth!”

Some of the locals were glancing over at him, conversing in hushed voices, eyes darting from his face to the golden symbol pinned to his lapel. Now, usually he would be thrilled whenever someone showed any kind of interest in his badge--

But something seemed WRONG here.

A woman with a child shakes her head and hurries off, not sparing him another glance. A man quickly follows after, head bowed low. The way they were acting was surprising, but he tries to tell himself that perhaps he’s simply overreacting. Maybe they had caught sight of the tourist guidebook clutched in his hand and wanted to avoid being roped into becoming a temporary tour guide...?

(Yeah... maybe.)

Still, that assumption didn’t help settle the strange sensation in his gut. It was like everyone was in on something that he wasn’t. As if they all knew a secret and were determined to keep it from him. Backing into a the space between a wall and a shop front - but not actually venturing into the alleyway - Phoenix pulls out his phone. He feels the need for some familiarity and the only way he can do that is by sending a couple of texts. The first one is sent to Trucy to ask if she’s okay. The next one goes to Maya to ask when they can meet up. He’s aware that she’s busy with her duties, so he’ll work on her schedule.

A pause. A sudden noise? A scrape against the ground, perhaps? He looks behind him. Nothing there. Another glance is given to the locals; they aren’t observing him anymore. Each of them were going about their day, their backs turned, their faces hidden beneath hats and shawls...

Pressing his back to the wall so that nobody could surprise him from behind, the attorney presses the phone to his ear. He had worked out the time difference between here and Los Angeles and, if he was correct, then Miles should still be sleeping. Ah, he’ll just leave him a voicemail. He just felt the need to put his thoughts into words.

“Hey, Miles. I hope you don’t have your phone on because I don’t want to wake you, but I just needed to leave this message. Okay, this will sound odd and I’m probably being paranoid, but... something’s weird here. Really weird. I can’t exactly explain it. There’s just this feeling... The people-- they’re...” Something in the alley catches his eye, but all he can manage is a gasp of shock before everything turns black.

“What’s that look for? Surprised you haven’t won yet?” It wasn’t often they engaged in a chess “battle”, but those past times had always seen Edgeworth as the victor. The games had always been fairly short, which is why it was rather amusing to see how long this one was stretching on.

“Did I forget to mention how I’ve improved over the years?” Not just at chess, but at other things as well. Despite poker being the activity he excelled at, he couldn’t help but enjoy their game. Or maybe he was enjoying this lovely little atmosphere they had created between them. The battle of wits, the old familiar banter...

But there was also a hint of something else...

Something EXCITING.

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