It’s not true. It can’t be.
The door to the Borscht Bowl Club slammed shut behind the tail of Edgeworth’s rain-soaked coat. The air stuffed his airway, thick and lukewarm with the smell of bitter wholesale liquor and stale cigarette smoke. Edgeworth scanned the lazy hum of patrons, praying under his breath.
Please. Tell me it’s not true.
Then, a familiar voice drifted from the crowd.
Please.
“Miles?”
“No. No. This can’t be happening.” Edgeworth said, recoiling from the sight of the voice’s owner.
Phoenix sighed and leaned down from his seat beside the piano, fishing a bottle from the nearby crates. That ridiculous woolen cap shaded his eyes in the dimness of the grungy establishment. The dirty tracksuit swamped the familiar figure of the attorney that Edgeworth knew all too well. …show more content…
Edgeworth thought, grimacing. There’s nothing.
“No. This can’t be.” Edgeworth’s despair spilled out from his lips, his voice snagging on the sobs in his throat. “How could- I don’t know. I thought…”
“It doesn’t matter.” Phoenix murmured. “None of that matters anymore.”
“How could you say that?!” Edgeworth roared, his hands trembling against the frayed fabric, “Ho-”
“I would very much appreciate it if you did not manhandle my acquaintance, Prosecutor Edgeworth.”
Edgeworth’s gaze shot across the table, the image of the foreign man searing into the raw, tear-scoured lucidity of his mind. The blonde man smiled at him, the gold threading in his suit and the silver rims of his glasses exempting him from the establishment’s stench of poverty
“Gavin,” Phoenix said. “It’s fine.”
“He is literally at your neck, Phoenix.” Gavin replied, leaning forward and resting his chin on laced fingers. “Prosecutor Edgeworth, I would advise you to step away before law enforcement arrives.”
Phoenix landed in the puddle of wine with a wet crash. The glass slivers bit into his leg, but he did not wince. There wasn’t a shred of anger in Phoenix’s dull eyes.
There wasn’t even anything at
The door to the Borscht Bowl Club slammed shut behind the tail of Edgeworth’s rain-soaked coat. The air stuffed his airway, thick and lukewarm with the smell of bitter wholesale liquor and stale cigarette smoke. Edgeworth scanned the lazy hum of patrons, praying under his breath.
Please. Tell me it’s not true.
Then, a familiar voice drifted from the crowd.
Please.
“Miles?”
“No. No. This can’t be happening.” Edgeworth said, recoiling from the sight of the voice’s owner.
Phoenix sighed and leaned down from his seat beside the piano, fishing a bottle from the nearby crates. That ridiculous woolen cap shaded his eyes in the dimness of the grungy establishment. The dirty tracksuit swamped the familiar figure of the attorney that Edgeworth knew all too well. …show more content…
Edgeworth thought, grimacing. There’s nothing.
“No. This can’t be.” Edgeworth’s despair spilled out from his lips, his voice snagging on the sobs in his throat. “How could- I don’t know. I thought…”
“It doesn’t matter.” Phoenix murmured. “None of that matters anymore.”
“How could you say that?!” Edgeworth roared, his hands trembling against the frayed fabric, “Ho-”
“I would very much appreciate it if you did not manhandle my acquaintance, Prosecutor Edgeworth.”
Edgeworth’s gaze shot across the table, the image of the foreign man searing into the raw, tear-scoured lucidity of his mind. The blonde man smiled at him, the gold threading in his suit and the silver rims of his glasses exempting him from the establishment’s stench of poverty
“Gavin,” Phoenix said. “It’s fine.”
“He is literally at your neck, Phoenix.” Gavin replied, leaning forward and resting his chin on laced fingers. “Prosecutor Edgeworth, I would advise you to step away before law enforcement arrives.”
Phoenix landed in the puddle of wine with a wet crash. The glass slivers bit into his leg, but he did not wince. There wasn’t a shred of anger in Phoenix’s dull eyes.
There wasn’t even anything at