AS HE’S ESCORTED out, amidst the uproar, he spares this makeshift court a backwards glance.
His body hurts. His vision is blurry and he’s seeing spots. His heart beats and beats and beats because he can’t get Balder Hringhorni’s face out of his head, and where Beauty laughed with him before he’s cold and sharp and gritting his teeth.
Franziska Von Karma’s rage was only satisfactory for a second. He looks to Edgeworth again, like a frightened child when he knows he’s just a horrible man, only to run out of the courthouse and into the lobby. Facing the corner. Breathing all staggered, like his movements. Contemplating in his own self-imposed time out.
Yes, he doesn’t want to die, but at what cost? That his lies have lies and they pile up on top of each other-- in a courthouse, of all things? One of the places he cares about the most? He doesn’t even know whether he’s going to die, yet he’s acting as if his actions are going to save his life.
The law states that the most he can get is half a year of detainment-- he knows, he’s read those laws a hundred times over, trying to find weak spots for reassurances, but they’re perfect. But it’s open to alternative consequences, and with how the entire office has renounced him, who’s to say they aren’t going to take that punishment?
For a moment, the thought of seeing Kristoph Gavin again actually comforted him. (And for a moment, he forgot that he would never be able to die properly in this place.)
For a moment, he turns back to say something, but then he doesn’t. And he defaults to mumbling at the wall before he falls silent.
( What are you going to do? )
