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Nervous wasn't the right word, but to say Edgeworth simply felt uneasy seemed like an understatement. Arriving to the restaurant a half-hour early had been a mistake, and the prosecutor was already sick of being alone with his thoughts. The presence of Kristoph Gavin - although he was not necessarily unwelcome - was freshly unsettling in and of itself. The conversation that had lead to Phoenix suggesting he come along in lieu of the Fey girls had been a little eye opening to all the words left unsaid about the man; however, Edgeworth hadn't dwelt upon it much, and he'd agreed to Kristoph coming along without much question. Pushing the more unpleasant of his thoughts away, Edgeworth recrossed his legs one over the other as he sat on the uncomfortable, black wooden bench in the lobby of the restaurant.

Apprehensive. Yes, that was far more appropriate. Though he felt he would have had little trouble accepting Kristoph's presence, the sudden news that his sister of all people would be joining them had amused him morbidly before a strong sense of dread had set in.

Franziska's antics were practically commonplace for Edgeworth, but he had woken up that morning with a certain view of how the dinner would go. It would be awkward (Edgeworth wouldn't delude himself into thinking otherwise), long, and most likely uneventful - but they would return home that evening in one piece. The idea of carting Phoenix home on a stretcher wasn't exactly a pleasant one, no matter how amusing the moments leading up to it might be.

More than anything, Edgeworth had been hoping that he could at least make the night special for Phoenix. He'd never entertained a significant other on their birthday before, and although it was very much a foreign concept to him, he didn't intend on failing. Selecting a present had been a difficult task in and of itself, and Edgeworth wasn't even sure how well it would be received - at the very least, if he was unsuccessful on that front, he wanted this dinner to go well.

But fate (or the naivete of his boyfriend - Edgeworth hadn't decided which was working against him just yet) didn't appear to be playing fair with him.

The luminescence of the restaurant was almost headache inducing, but Edgeworth had to admit that the atmosphere wasn't all that bad. Sushi had never appealed to him - the thought of anything raw was a bit repulsive in the prosecutor's mind - but, in the course of investigating restaurant venues, he'd chosen Nobu for the variety of its menu. Overall, it certainly wasn't the sort of establishment Edgeworth would frequent, but he hoped the birthday boy in question would enjoy it.

Assuming, of course, that the defense attorney would make it out of the restaurant alive.

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22 December 2009 @ 03:35 pm
Pearl had been looking for something really special to do for Mr. Nick and Mr. Edgeworth lately to show them how she really felt about their relationship. She was still in the process of wrapping her little mind around the fact that Mystic Maya didn't like Mr. Nick as a special someone and that Mr. Nick had another special someone (Mr. Edgeworth). But she still wanted to do something special for them. Mr. Nick was important to Mystic Maya and she'd been happy for him. That was all Pearl really needed to decide that she was going to support the two men. The little girl was upset that no one had told her earlier, and that Mystic Maya wasn't really Mr. Nick's special someone, but if Mystic Maya supported them, then Pearl would, too.

With that in mind, Pearl had begun to scour the papers for something to get them, No real holidays were coming up, well... there was Easter sometime, right? She could call it an early Easter present. Yeah... give it to Mystic Maya to give to the Easter Bunny or something.

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The next room on the tour was a bit larger than the two remaining rooms, and Edgeworth quickly surmised that this room would house the Feys when they chose to stay with them. Edgeworth didn't venture far into the room - instead, he stayed close to the door, eyeing the door to the balcony adjacent to them. "I don't dislike this room by any stretch of the imagination, but I do think it will have to be redone. At the very least, another bed should be added. Do you think the girls will appreciate the décor?" Having to decide a design for a room for two girls that he really didn't know was a difficult task, but in Edgeworth's mind, he'd already written it off as Phoenix's responsibility.

"Hmm," Phoenix hummed thoughtfully, as he took a glance around the room. "To be honest, I think Maya would probably want to decorate it herself, if we'll let her." With magatamas and a bunch of things from Kurain, the defense attorney surmised mentally. "And if they need a bed, I'm sure Maya will let us know...one should be fine for now." After all, Pearls was only nine years old - still young enough for sleepovers (though Phoenix could only guess - that was when he'd grown out of sleepovers), and the bed was large. Both of the girls had been making their home together on his living room couch so far, and Phoenix couldn't justify throwing out a perfectly good bed just to make room for two.

The prosecutor was a little uneasy when it came to giving Maya free reign to decorate the room. The most that he knew about her interests ranged from that channeling rubbish to the Steel Samurai, and while the latter was infinitely more preferable, decorations along that line would have to be done tastefully.

"As long as you supervise her, I don't mind letting her decorate," Edgeworth relented before turning his attention away from the bedroom, leading the both of them down the hallway. "Now, which of the other rooms did you favor?"

When Edgeworth turned away, Phoenix wondered if Edgeworth understood the fact that his supervisory abilities would be limited if he were placed in that position. Maya's imagination and desires were incredibly pushy (both in a good and bad way), and he got the feeling that if he gave her free reign to decorate a room she wouldn't be able to stop.

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It was clear by evening that Phoenix and Edgeworth's respective tastes in housing tended to clash.

The prosecutor had a habit of nitpicking heavily. Between his distaste for most of the kitchens in the homes Phoenix favored - Wright, faux antique is a bit too tacky - and finding that even the showers in a handful of the homes were distasteful - Wright, I don't intend to shower in what appears to be a dungeon - their situation seemed a bit hopeless, but overall, Edgeworth wasn't discouraged. Phoenix had his plethora of nitpicks as well, most of his protests due to fact that the décor Edgeworth preferred appeared to suit an elderly woman more appropriately than two grown men; however, middle ground had to be found somewhere, and that is precisely what found them at 6230 W. 5th Street.

Edgeworth was beginning to wonder if the realtor that had accompanied them normally had such a frustrated disposition, or if it had simply been his and Phoenix's bickering throughout the day that had spoiled the woman's good mood. Regardless, he was far more impressed with the current house she had been showing rather than her attitude - pricey though it was, it complimented most of his preferences quite nicely, and even had the pool that Maya had been begging him for.

"And that's the tour of the house," the realtor said as she lead them down the hall toward the front door, her words succinct, as though she were awaiting either of the men to shoot down the property instantaneously. "As with the other homes, feel free to take a moment to explore it before we move on. Do you have any questions or concerns?"

"At the moment, no," Edgeworth replied, his gaze wandering to the living room briefly. "I do think we would like to look around, however. This property seems promising." The prosecutor glanced at Phoenix, as if waiting for confirmation from the defense attorney.

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18 December 2009 @ 11:06 am
There was very little Edgeworth hated more than procrastination, much less when the offender was himself. Phoenix was at least aware that he would be taking him out for his birthday - the issue with the reservations and the Feys had seen to that - but after some consideration, Edgeworth realized that the dinner itself wouldn't do as a present. There would have to be something more. Thinking back to the watch that Phoenix wore on his wrist every day, he felt like cursing. He should have saved that gift for just a few days longer; now, he needed to think up another present.

But what did Phoenix like? The question drew an annoying blank whenever Edgeworth attempted to answer it. The most that Edgeworth knew about Phoenix extended to his meal preferences and his propensity for grapes. Since he certainly just couldn't present him with a giant grape (even though he somehow had the impression Phoenix would enjoy that gift), something else needed to be done.

Two hours prior, Edgeworth had sent a message to the precinct that said that Gumshoe should report to his office immediately. It wasn't a big surprise that he hadn't arrived yet; messages, when not urgent, were often left to fend for themselves in whatever mess of paperwork the messenger happened to conjure up. Glancing at his wall clock a bit nervously, Edgeworth began to wonder if Gumshoe would show up at all. If not...what was he to do? He supposed he could call the Fey girls, but he didn't want to make a bad impression upon them. It was the day before Phoenix's birthday - he was expected to have something prepared by now.

Edgeworth was considering giving up and leaving early to go into the world and search blindly for the gift. The majority of his day was already dedicated to house hunting...if he didn't come up with something fast, it would be too late. The cup of tea he'd had delivered sat cold on his desk as he stared out the large window of his room, as he was wont to do when he was thinking heavily over something. Taking his cup of tea from his desk, Edgeworth idly sipped some of unpleasantly cold liquid before simply holding the arm of the cup in his fingertips. A money clip...? No, he wouldn't have much use for that...perhaps some sort of jewelry? But I've only just given him that watch...damn it all.

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13 December 2009 @ 12:40 am
The arrangements had been made. It had taken a fair amount of 'coercing' - if one could call it that - but there was something to be said for last minute determination. As it stood, Shadi refused to allow himself even an ounce of uncertainty; if he had to stack the metaphorical deck in order to ensure that he would walk out of the courtroom a free man, he would do it with a smile on his face.

Two hours before showtime, Shadi was presented with the news that a visitor had arrived - yet another reporter, who was undoubtedly grasping for some inside scoop on the tormented soul of a magician turned killer. Shadi had very nearly dismissed the meeting entirely - just as he'd done with the all others - but his attention his piqued at the description of the man: twitchy, peculiar, and reeking of mint. Brushel, no doubt.

Life certainly did enjoy handing him wild cards.

Making himself comfortable in the rickety excuse for a folding chair, Shadi waited impatiently for Brushel to be ushered in. Time was short, and the magician was certain that his defense attorney would be early for their meeting; naturally, he would have to show the man the same courtesy.

Oh, but the waiting game was such a painful one, and he had been playing it all too often lately.

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11 November 2009 @ 01:59 am
Miles wasn't sure how he got to sleep every night. The books he read on traumatic incidents often told of recurring nightmares, but rarely did they mention the the nightmares would...differ so much from the actual event. The scream was much more easily written off, though it always woke him without fail. If his father was killed...he would have screamed, right? That didn't necessarily mean that it was his fault. The pistol at his feet was only a figment of his cruel imagination.

Even though he knew what to expect when he went to sleep, he knew his body required rest in order to carry on. Most nights he would go to bed only when he couldn't keep his eyes focused on his schoolbooks anymore. The new term had started not long ago, and he was already well on his way to becoming a prosecutor; the talk around him had predicted he would be prosecuting by age twenty. The quicker the better, he reasoned with himself. Perhaps if he could proceed with putting all those criminals away, he could atone.

But had he sinned at all? The question burned at him nearly every day. How would he ever know...?

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22 October 2009 @ 12:56 am
Franziska von Karma was staring obstinately at the shelves of crime novels at the bookshop, occasionally taking a book down and skimming its blurb before placing it back on the shelf. These books were all the same, honestly, consisting of bumbling fools of characters who should never be allowed anywhere near a courtroom. Not only did they fail to make completely obvious logical connections, Franziska had no idea how they managed to make such a prestigious profession seem so…boring.

She knelt down, placing a murder mystery about an unidentified body hidden in a burlap sack at the bottom of a ditch back on the shelf. Nothing even remotely interesting there; she wouldn’t even be able to derive amusement from such a shoddily written story as this.

Her real reason for coming to the shop today was not to look at crime novels, however, but the longer she spent dallying in front of those shelves, the less determined she felt to look at the section she had come here today to visit – the romance novels were several aisles away, and Franziska was beginning to wonder why she hadn’t just walked over there already. It was because she wasn’t interested in that sort of thing, she reminded herself; those type of books were for fools who had no idea how life worked in the real world, and had the time to waste reading such trash. Franziska von Karma’s time was too precious to waste on such a pathetic excuse for literature, so why was she even here? She bit her lip, skimming the titles of the crime novels again. She was here to buy some books, of course; she’d left the majority of her collection back in Germany, and she needed something to do in the evenings, if only to avoid conversations like the one with Maya Fey yesterday afternoon.

Franziska wasn’t going to be scared off, however – even though she had no reason to be looking at such trash, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t, did it? It wasn’t like her to be scared of anything, let alone words on a page. With newfound determination, Franziska decided to at least check out the ‘female literature’ section, whatever that meant; she could reach her eventual goal through a series of logical steps, just like always. She tore her gaze away from the rows of crime novels, one hand on her hip and the other firmly on her whip.

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22 October 2009 @ 12:30 am
Kristoph's week had been a rather dead one, all things considered; the flow of cases and consultations at Gavin Law Offices had more or less ground to a halt by Thursday evening, and outside of work the apartment had begun to take on a feeling that was closer to stifling than relaxing. The general ambience - whether it was all of the silence or the lack thereof - was beginning to grate on his nerves; everything seemed to be bound and determined to provide an unending source of irritation, and though he was certain of his ability to entertain himself under most circumstances, he had to admit that he wasn't immune to the desire for decent conversation once in a while.

Bluntly put, Kristoph Gavin was bored, and the idea of spending the weekend caught in a similar pattern was not looking appealing in the least.

Under normal circumstances, Kristoph tended to dislike seeking out the company of others; there was always something that felt oddly desperate about the notion of purposely calling someone up and asking for their time, though when Kristoph considered it long enough, he couldn't exactly be sure why that was the case. His mind turned first to a few of the members of the ethics committee; he had been accepted among their ranks recently, and at the very least he didn't seem to be disliked, though at the same time the first ones to come to mind were painfully dry. He had seen the majority of them earlier in the week, at that meeting he had managed to be on time for despite the distraction that had occurred immediately before -

It was then that the option occurred to him; after a moment's deliberation, he found himself looking through that silver case, seeking out a particular business card that, when he had received it, he had been so certain he would have no need to utilize.

The discussion with Phoenix Wright had been brief and slightly awkward, though the invitation had been simple - dinner the next evening, at a restaurant Wright seemed unacquainted with, if his questions afterwards had been any indicator. The conversation was easier after the invitation was out there, and easier still after it had been accepted; though he had kept the majority of his amusement out of his tone when Wright had asked if there was a particular dress code to be adhered to at the restaurant, he could feel himself smirk slightly as he told Wright to bring a jacket.

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It was almost two months to the day that Sister Iris had been acquitted of murder, and Maya Fey had been officially rescued.

It had taken a long time for Maya to truly come to grips with everything that had happened. Whenever she had felt a pang of sorrow of the loss of her mother or for Pearl, who hadn't meant to do any harm, she had instead focused on her gratitude to the people that had helped save her. Living back in Los Angeles had done her a world of good when it came to the healing process, but the weight of what she had gone through still pulled her down from time to time.

But who was left to thank? Of course Phoenix had known the depth of her gratitude, and with Edgeworth living with them, she'd been able to express her thankfulness in the form of Steel Samurai marathons. That only left...

Franziska von Karma and Diego Armando.

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