[RL: Thursday Night, 8PM - Bella Cucina Italiana | Phoenix; Edgeworth]

[attorneyatlol]

It appeared dinner was coming to an end. Phoenix polished off the last few bites of his spinach ravioli (a dish he had ordered at Edgeworth’s thinly veiled challenge to try something new) and took a sip of Cabernet, already well into his third glass. The night had its bumps, as were inevitable when the two of them interacted socially, but it wasn’t unpleasant. More often than not, Edgeworth’s silence left Phoenix the task of filling awkward pauses, a responsibility not entirely unfamiliar. Although the other man had, perhaps, been a little more silent than usual tonight, it could have been attributed to many things: the late hour, for instance, or the fact that they had simply never done this before.

Several times over the course of the evening (and the course of the previous evening, for that matter), the thought had caused Phoenix to wonder. What had prompted Edgeworth to invite him to dinner? Why to a trendy Italian place on Hollywood Boulevard? As the familiar warmth and giddiness of one who’s just past their normal alcohol tolerance level settled in, however, Phoenix merely grinned, coming to the conclusion that the answers didn’t matter. They were two men enjoying each other’s company, and that was enough.

He aimed his gaze across the table, to his companion—his friend—and his smile grew softer. “I guess we should get the checks, huh?”



((OOC: Taking place the night after their IM conversation.))

Comments

[samuraiprosecutor]

The expression on Wright's face, as he met the other man's gaze across the table, made something twist painfully in Edgeworth's chest. As enjoyable as Wright's company could be at times, the entire evening Edgeworth had been plagued with uncharacteristic doubts that occasionally distracted him from the conversation; the surety displayed openly on Wright's face mocked Edgeworth's uncertainty, once again calling his actions into question.

The decision had been made. Arrangements were in place. While the choice felt rash, sudden, it was a subject that had been on his mind for some time, and he hadn't made it lightly.

He'd always intended to go back. Someday.

Edgeworth rubbed his arm idly, turning his gaze away from his companion. "Before we do, there's...something I should say. ...Something I need to say."

[attorneyatlol]

It was as if Edgeworth’s words had tripped a switch: the smile that had graced Phoenix’s features for most of the night quickly fled from his lips and he sat up a little straighter in his chair, staring back at Edgeworth with unguarded concern. His glass was lifted halfway to his mouth; he slowly set it back on the table. “What is it?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth frowned at the change in Wright's demeanor, cursing him for his inability to hide his emotions.

His voice was sterner than he'd intended when he replied, "I'm leaving." The words fell heavily from his lips, and anything he might have said to soften them died in his throat.

[attorneyatlol]

It was blatantly obvious that Edgeworth wasn’t referring to leaving the restaurant, but Phoenix stubbornly clung to some hope that his initial assumption was wrong; the words couldn’t possibly mean what he thought they meant. His mind, hampered by alcohol and sudden dread, attempted to conjure other possibilities, but came up empty. “What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asked, tone suspicious. “Where are you going?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

Averting his eyes, Edgeworth reached for his wine glass, the movement deceptively casual as his voice attempted (and failed) to be. "France, initially. I'll be staying there for a month or so, then meeting Fransizka during my stay in Switzerland." He took a sip of his wine, which suddenly tasted too acidic, glanced back up at Wright but immediately dropped his gaze from what was written so plainly on the man's face.

"From there I'll be hitting several countries around Europe. I haven't finalized the itinerary, but my last stop should be in the United Kingdom."

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix’s shoulders sagged more with each word until he finally gave up and allowed himself to slump against the back of his chair. He watched Edgeworth speak, blinking dumbly as a multitude of indiscernible emotions mounted on top of his shock.

“But why?” he asked the moment the other man finished. “I thought you were… I mean…” Gaze drawn to the tabletop, a frown creased his brow. He didn’t know what he meant.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth didn't have to look at his companion to know the expression his face would hold. A matching frown settled on his features. "There was work to do, still. I left before I'd finished."

[attorneyatlol]

Eyes lingering on the stark white of the tablecloth, Phoenix remained silent. His jaw, thus far slack with astonishment, tightened as resentment clawed at the back of his mind, and he slowly inhaled and exhaled to quell the sudden irritation. When he finally spoke, though, his voice was terse. “When are you leaving?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

The sharpness of the response didn't miss him. Edgeworth gave a brief thought to cultivating Wright's anger. It was deserved, and would make things that much easier. He shook his head slightly, and his mouth was dry when he replied, "Tomorrow."

[attorneyatlol]

“What?” Phoenix’s head immediately snapped up. “Tomorrow? You can’t possibly… When did you…” He shook his head, trying to make sense of this. The dinner invitation, the unusual silence… These were the answers to his questions and he didn’t like them one bit.

A sense of betrayal settled in his gut and he fixed Edgeworth with an accusatory glare. “How long have you been planning this?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

"I made the arrangements yesterday." Edgeworth finally met Wright's eyes, and matched his glare. "You'll recall my last stint overseas was cut short. I always intended to go back."

[attorneyatlol]

"And tomorrow is what? A good day to fly? After everything that's been going on, you..." Phoenix trailed off with a growl, frustrated at his own reaction. He knew he had no right to be angry, no right to question Edgeworth's decision, but the news was so unexpected and (loathe as he was to admit) it hurt; a small, cruel part of him wanted to ask Edgeworth what he was running from now.

Guilt gnawed at the mere thought and he winced, burying the question with a sigh. Eyes downcast, he slouched forward and rested his elbows on the table. He didn't know what else to say, so he said nothing.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Frustration threatened to well up into anger. After...the last time...Edgeworth had owed Wright warning, and he'd given it to him, though it hadn't played out as he would have wanted, given a choice. However it had happened, that was all Wright could demand. Edgeworth's obligations ended there. The decision had been his to make, and he didn't owe anyone an explanation.

"Tomorrow was the earliest date I could depart." His stomach clenched over the words, but his gaze hardened.

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix clenched his teeth; that comment stung, but he refused to let it show, and he bit back his own remark to avoid aggravating the situation. Instead, he focused his anger on the tablecloth, his sauce-stained plate, and his half-empty glass of wine, scowling at each one. The night had been enjoyable and that’s what hurt the most. Through it all, he recognized that this had been Edgeworth’s attempt to lessen the blow, but all it did was tantalize Phoenix. They rarely interacted on a social level; who knew when they’d get another chance to now?

Phoenix glanced around the restaurant, purposely avoiding Edgeworth’s gaze. The check couldn’t arrive soon enough.

[samuraiprosecutor]

At that point, the lack of eye contact suited Edgeworth. He pointedly ignored his companion's slumped posture and his roving, heated gaze, focusing instead on draining the last of the wine into his glass (his third of the evening). Only habit reminded him to twist the bottle before lifting it away and setting it back on the table. What had been an excellent bottle at the start of the evening seemed to taste worse with every sip; after a few half-hearted ones he downed the rest of the glass's contents, the action accompanied by a rush of warmth down his throat and pressure in his head.

[attorneyatlol]

The restaurant was relatively busy at this hour and the deafening silence at their own table only served to amplify the clanking of silverware, the hushed voices, and the trills of laughter emanating from others. It was enough to give Phoenix a headache. With a sigh, he ran a hand over his forehead, down his face, laid it on the table in front of him, and drummed his fingers against those of his other hand. He finally spoke; his voice was quiet, but it sounded louder than everything in the room.

“For how long?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

That single question drowned out everything in the room, and Edgeworth's attention focused entirely on Wright's tense jaw and downcast eyes, the ache in his chest imprinting the man's features on his memory.

This would be the last time he'd see them for...

"I...don't know."

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix nodded. The response wasn’t entirely unexpected. With little more to say, he sat back, reached into his pocket, and fished out his wallet. At his insistence, they’d requested separate bills when the waiter first greeted them. Edgeworth had placed the wine, the appetizer, and his meal on his tab while Phoenix placed only his dinner on his own. He knew how much it cost, and with a mental calculation for tax and tip…

His frown deepened. He was never very good at math.

The wallet produced two fives and several ones, enough to make twenty dollars. That sounded adequate, and so he placed the bills on the table and immediately stood, finally allowing his gaze to rest on Edgeworth. He offered the man a half-hearted twitch of his lips, hardly enough to be called a smile, and after a beat of hesitation, he said, “I hope you have a good flight,” with no attempt at amiability. He turned and left.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth made no protests, didn't call Wright back. He simply watched, expression indecipherable, as his companion...his friend walked away. Their waiter arrived shortly after; Edgeworth handled his portion of the bill and left without what remained of his lamb dinner. He climbed into his car slowly and leaned back in the driver's seat for several minutes, breathing deeply, his eyes fixed on some unseen point past the steering wheel.

The entire evening had hurt--too much, and that was the problem.

He drove home carefully, finished packing and made a few last-minute arrangements.


-End-