@trashthemouth : i need everybody, all day long, to like me so much.
He swallows the knee - jerk response : doesn’t everybody? ( I do ... but I’m also self aware enough to know that I’m broken. ) Self - aware enough to know that no matter how good of an actor and how ace of a bluff he thinks he is, that the people closest to him can so easily tell when he’s putting on an act of his own.
IT’S LAYERED, really, the way that Phoenix’s quiet self - loathing and need for validation manifest. He doesn’t ask for validation of his skills. He knows damn well enough how talented he is, and how easy it is for him to stand at the bench and play [ well, he’d say tennis, but really, every day in court for him felt more like a free - for - all where the rules would change without any notice every other round. ] with his opposing counsel.
He doesn’t seek for validation from his partners — despite the damage that Dahlia, no, Iris, no, Dahlia ... both, really, had done on him — that can be written off so easily by the mere fact that there are none. Pearl had made all her jokes about Mystic Maya, and Trucy had jokingly asked about a Mommy in the future — but he’s always found an excuse to avoid it. Work was too demanding, speedrunning Law School 2.0 was too demanding, the agency was too demanding, being a father was too demanding. There was never any partner to seek validation from.
And he never quite asks for validation from anyone else. He plays the dry, jaded, cynic role pretty well, he thinks, if the way that he manages to constantly drive Apollo, especially, up the wall with his quips, was any indication. He’s taken enough abuse from the prosecution for the past ten years that it looks as though it never fazes him. And it doesn’t. Not really. But there’s only so much damage that can be done to one’s ego before it starts to take its toll.
[ It ranges from his skills in the courtroom — and sure, that’s on him, that’s his fault for relying so heavily on bluffing, on turning a story around in a manner so ridiculously it borders on farcical. Things he can control. To things he can’t — he’ll be the first to pile on with the hedgehog jokes, sure, it’s low - hanging fruit, but call him sir barbed - head enough, knock on his height, his appearance — especially in the throes of the worst seven years of his life? ]
Phoenix would sooner turn in his badge again before he ever deigned to ask someone’s approval. THE ONLY PERSON WHOSE OPINIONS MATTER, he’ll always say, IS TRUCY’S, anyway. It’s lonely, though. It was easier with Mia around, with Maya. The short span of time he was able to surround himself with people he knew for a fact liked him, and liked him enough to be around him without feeling obligated to — though, really, did Mia have that much of a choice? She was his boss after all ... no, no, that’s a slippery slope straight towards a miniature existential crisis if he’s ever seen one.
But he understands it — and when he was younger, he thinks, he would’ve looked at Richie and wondered how he could ever worry someone didn’t like him. Phoenix looks at Richie and sees only good. In Richie, there’s a smile that’s so goddamned contagious that he can’t wipe it off his face no matter how hard he tries, one that makes it so hard to even pretend to be mad at him ... one that can’t always outweigh a sarcastic roll of his eyes. He hears a laugh — when it’s genuine, at least — and Nick knows ; he has the, what did Richie call it? He has the “Magic Rock” to catch a lie. One that reminds him, in a way not unlike Trucy’s does, that he’s also allowed to laugh.
In Richie, there’s a kindness that Phoenix doesn’t get to see too often outside of his office, outside of Maya and Edgeworth. It’s something tender, and precious, and it makes Nick’s heart lurch when he catches the glimpses of it, too often hidden behind a joke or a dismissive remark. Richie’s smart, observant, and a quick - thinker if Phoenix has ever known one. And for better or for worse, he knows so many.
But Nick knows well enough — it’s easy to put on an act and to appear what people want you to be. It’s easier to try and please everyone once you’ve gotten into the habit of it, even if — especially if — you’ve been doing it for so fucking long that you almost start to forget there was an act there in the first place. It’s easy to forget who you are [ Actor / Attorney / Father. ] when you’re so often resigned to a role that others see you in. [ Feenie / Turnabout Terror / Mr. Wright. ] Though he doesn’t assume such, he has no doubt it’s something similar for Richie. [ After all — who is Richie Tozier if not just a Trashmouth? ]
Eventually, Nick smiles, that half - grin, soft expression that only Trucy and Maya have ever really managed to wring out of him at any sort of reoccurring frequency. ‘ I mean, I know I’m not the target audience here — ’ Stupid joke, stupid laugh. Yet, despite the humor, he still speaks softly, gently. ‘ I like you. ’ He coughs down the laugh, easy and without any malice or mockery. ‘ I like you, all day long, so much. For whatever that counts. ’
