Phoenix Wright (
attorneyatlol) wrote2008-09-05 12:55 am
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[RL: You got some splainin' to do - Friday, September 5, 11:00AM | Phoenix; Larry; Edgeworth]
Phoenix paced the apartment in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that were supposedly his. While they did look like something he’d normally wear, he hadn’t recognized anything, and even more worrying, there was no sign of the sweater Dollie knitted him anywhere.
Sighing, he stopped in the hallway and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Miles (or ‘Edgeworth,’ as he evidently preferred being called) had said that Dollie was indisposed for some reason, but refused to give Phoenix any details beyond the fact that she was safe and well. It was frustrating, to say the least. Lunchtime was rapidly approaching and he would have been preparing to spend the next half hour with her under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do from here, especially given the fact that he didn’t know where ‘here’ was nor did he have any clue what could have possibly detained her. But Edgeworth had asked Phoenix to trust him and Phoenix did.
He stood in the hall for a moment, nervously chewing the inside of his cheek. More than ten years had passed since he last saw Miles; there were so many things he wanted to tell him and even more that he wanted to ask him, but waiting like this was a nerve-racking, necessary evil. He hoped his friend would arrive soon.
With another sigh, he went back to pacing.
((OOC: Backdated to the first day of the mental regression virus, around 11AM.))
Sighing, he stopped in the hallway and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Miles (or ‘Edgeworth,’ as he evidently preferred being called) had said that Dollie was indisposed for some reason, but refused to give Phoenix any details beyond the fact that she was safe and well. It was frustrating, to say the least. Lunchtime was rapidly approaching and he would have been preparing to spend the next half hour with her under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do from here, especially given the fact that he didn’t know where ‘here’ was nor did he have any clue what could have possibly detained her. But Edgeworth had asked Phoenix to trust him and Phoenix did.
He stood in the hall for a moment, nervously chewing the inside of his cheek. More than ten years had passed since he last saw Miles; there were so many things he wanted to tell him and even more that he wanted to ask him, but waiting like this was a nerve-racking, necessary evil. He hoped his friend would arrive soon.
With another sigh, he went back to pacing.
((OOC: Backdated to the first day of the mental regression virus, around 11AM.))
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His tone evened out as he returned his focus to Wright. "Regarding your apparent amnesia, each virus carries with it whatever symptoms are required to attain the apparently intended effect. Some are physical, altering a man's body or the world around him, while others are mental, affecting memory or perception. As for how these things come about...no one actually has an explanation, save for the rare viruses which are claimed by members of the community."
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“I’m a defense attorney…?”
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...Perhaps not so unwelcome. Edgeworth relaxed back into his chair as Wright backed down. He glanced at Larry, for once grateful for his (occasionally obnoxious and generally extraneous) company, then let his gaze drift to the tabletop.
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Dude, what did he miss?
Clearing his throat, he sat forward and looked up in thought. “Yeah, so, anyway,” he broke in. “Since you know everything’s gonna be okay, you might as well sit back and relax a little, right? Why don’t we watch a movie or something?”
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He dragged his gaze back to Edgeworth, uncertain.
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He turned to Wright, intent on continuing his explanations, but his expression gave Edgeworth pause. Confusion was written plainly on his features--Wright had never been adept at concealing his emotions, but their conversation was making it clear that he'd at least improved on that ability since his time in college. There was a plea in his eyes, and Edgeworth frowned slightly in response. "Is there...anything else you wish to know?"
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He shook his head slightly and tried to focus on something that wasn’t quite so daunting, though no less unbelievable. It had been twelve years since he’d last seen Miles, yet here the other man was, sitting at his kitchen table and talking to him like they’d just seen each other yesterday (heck, for all he knew, maybe they had). Looking up, he smiled in spite of himself, though it felt a little off kilter.
“Uh… So, how are you?”
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"I'm...currently well."
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"Do you have any further questions?"
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His gaze traveled over Larry and Miles and he was once again struck by how much the latter had aged. Larry had, too, to some extent, but the laugh lines under his eyes were nothing compared to the crow’s feet and dark circles under Edgeworth’s.
“How long has it been?” he wondered aloud.
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