edgelord-dl6

[edgelord-dl6]

The door to his office slams open. If Nakamura is out of breath in any shape or form, most have (tactfully) chosen not to comment on it. Aside from one other, there is only one person she would run all the way from the forensics lab towards, empty-handed as well.

"You're back." Is it statement? Or is it disbelief? She knew he'd been gone for quite some time, a high security business trip of sorts that would help to change the tide of the game, but well, it's one thing to know someone will be gone for a while. It's another to feel their absence, the spaces left behind, their lingering presence.

(She won't admit it, but for a long moment, she might have been afraid that he would never come back. His decision, one that at the end of the day, she wouldn't stop him from making if that was what would've made him happy.)

But he's here again in the flesh and here she is, breathless and staring at him. Two steps in before she tackles him in a hug, before she steps back again, composed and dignified. Business as usual.

"Welcome back, sir. Just dropping by to let you know there's some paperwork for you complete."

( DRIP WELCOME BACK :DDDD suki has....something to say to miles :) )

As soon as he sees her face, he knows he's an idiot.

He's done this before, to two people he loved. Both had mercifully refrained from striking him, though Franziska came close. The look on Suki Nakamura's face does not precede a strike, but he does sort of feel like he's swung and missed.

What an awful cad, to keep a trusted partner in the dark. What a thoughtless man, to treat his iron-clad bonds as if they were fraying strings. After all this time, he still figured his stabs at emotional connection best left forgotten...!

He's standing, face a little gaunt, barest hint of stubble on his face, perhaps thinner than usual, when she bursts in like a gale. his mind has only a second to whirl before she wraps him up in her arms, knocking him a few breathless steps back, and then it whirls some more, and then it's done. Too soon!

His cheeks flush as though he's taken a greedy gulp of merlot. He realizes his mouth is hanging open and he closes it before nodding a bit more dumbly than he'd intended. "Thank--" He clears his dry throat clumsily "Duly noted, Nakamura. I'll be--..."

Edgeworth looks frantically out the open door. There's no one in the hall. He sucks in a breath and takes the same two steps directly into her, bundling her up like someone had tossed something precious and invaluable to him, leaving him no choice but to clutch it with fierce tenderness. His cheek presses against her scar. They collide with a thump against the wall.

...And then he separates from her, holding her at arm's length by her shoulders for a moment, before letting go and bowing slightly.

"I'm...deeply sorry that it took me this long to get to these important documents."

[edgelord-dl6]

i just realized i haven't posted this here ....... either way. the threat is now unleashed. containment has been breached. beware of these two creechers.

[edgelord-dl6]

There is evidence of coarse fur on his belongings. Not fine and soft enough to be a domesticated dog. Strange.

he picks a strand from his luggage and examines it from beneath a furrowed brow, twirling it this way and that. he compares it to Pess and finds it dissimilar.

it couldn't be--

he tears like a maniac around his duplex - checking closets and showers, beneath both beds and the couch. Lang isn't playing some elaborate prank, is he? he'd always had a feeling Shi-Long was hiding something from him, studying him in a sly and disarming way that Miles could have easily and foolishly mistaken for Lang's bizarre ( and captivating ... ) brand of amourousness.

he stops just as suddenly as he started, feeling incredibly foolish. what did he expect to find? a listening device? a camera? the man himself? an actual wolf? he's out of his mind, thinking that way about Lang...

no...couldn't that dander be as simple as an old souvenir? from adventures he had to be dragged into kicking and screaming?

Edgeworth sighs through his teeth. does absence make the heart grow fonder, or only more paranoid?

[edgelord-dl6]

eyeing his cravat like he's about to pounce upon it ...

he has a sixth sense when it comes to people staring him down - perhaps because of all the intentional, predator-style staring he'd cultivated throughout his own illustrious career.

but with Ray Barlowe, he has a tendency to feel like a gazelle in open grasslands.

"Whatever you're thinking... ...Don't."

[edgelord-dl6]

|| hi everyoneeeeeee...it's been a few years huh? i got married, got promoted, moved to spain, and generally began limiting my internet time in favor of irl adventures, which i plan on continuing!

but i have never ever forgotten this space and the friends i've made here. some of you i still keep in contact with! i realized how much i enjoy rp as a social writing exercise, and i realized i wanted to try it again <3

i'll likely only be here once or twice a week on weekends, but i look forward to writing with you guys again when i can!

[edgelord-dl6]

He puts down his bags. Pess is ancient as he's ever been, but in good health -- (there's a note from Gumshoe on the kitchen counter confirming as much) -- and wagging his tail as he comes to greet his master in the living room.

Edgeworth sighs and smooths his hair out of his eyes. It had been a long trip away...and at a seemingly complicated time, given his developing personal relationships...

"Oh." Comes a disappointed sound from the guest room. A familiar figure, wearing pajamas, emerges from the doorway. "I didn't realize you would be home tonight..."

"What are you doing in my house?"

"Relaxing after an extremely taxing investigation! Do not bother me if you're going to pry, Miles Edgeworth!"

They stare each other down.

She relents. "Your place was closer."

Miles softens. Seeing her piled luggage, he realizes she must have been away for a while, too. They have a poor habit of slipping in and out of each other's lives, but she'd picked an odd time to disappear as well, all things considered...

"I suppose I should say 'welcome back'." She grumbles, scratching at her old scar.

"I suppose I should say the same."

[edgelord-dl6]

' i know your little secret. '

"...I have no little secrets..."

edgeworth...your face...fix your face...!

[edgelord-dl6]

why not have a nice juicy gelled cheese sandwich

"I suppose I c--..."

"...Gelled...?"

"...JUICY??!!"

[edgelord-dl6]

Edgeworth flinches-- rather, he leaps half an inch into the air, eyes searching the detective's face for any semblance of readable intention...

but there it is! and one doesn't need to be a social butterfly to know that it's happiness on Ray Barlowe's face. somehow, this is even more alarming than anger or surly impatience.

'Friends. You're friends...'

Miles blinks rapidly, staring first at Ray's smile, then past him and somewhere into the infinite cosmos, taking it all in. he's still at a loss for words when the detective produces a notebook. he's been planning this. why? to torment him?

it wasn't as though he disliked their...mutual acquaintance. on the contrary, he seemed, beyond all logical reasoning, almost pathetically, to seek out his good graces. he'd pulled strings to secure his freedom, after all. entertained his flights of fancy, begrudgingly. got roped into things like this, habitually...

"I--I can't promise anything, I'm-- very busy, you understand."

        Normally, a hand laid on his person is something to be swatted away or to be seized in a near wrist-breaking hold to warn against another such transgression. This time, however, the detective generously lets the faux pas slide, attention entirely elsewhere. His eyes widen, searching, processing.   “A-ha!”   He loudly smacks the wall he’s trapped Edgeworth against, just inches from the man’s head.   “So,  that’s  how it is!”   His expression morphs — not into a snarl, but a smile, open-lipped and authentic.

          “Friends. You’re friends, that’s what you mean.”   Taking a step back, he groans.   “Fuck, why’re you two so weird ‘bout this stuff. Just call a spade a spade instead of dancin’ ‘n’ prancin’ ‘round the matter.”   His smile gains a scheming edge.   “It’s  ‘bout this Saturday. You free?”   Without waiting for an affirmation, he simply decides Edgeworth would be, or that he’d make time for the occasion. Ray slides a hand into his jacket, retrieving a small, black notebook and a pen.   “Great. Lemme give you the time an’ address.”

[edgelord-dl6]

( not the two of them running into each other on their way to decorate the tree and silently resolving to say nothing about it... )

Just a bare tree at the precinct.... needing decorations...

[edgelord-dl6]

( stealing chess pawns off their chess board while he's not looking. )

"I think even a man like you could appreciate a good Assam blend, if you'd just give it a try..." he mutters busily, trudging back to his seat across the small table from his opponent, with a sad single teacup in hand. Edgeworth sighs as he sits, and surveys the board with a remarkably measured gaze...

"...What has happened here..."

[edgelord-dl6]

Can we talk about this. Can we please talk about this

[edgelord-dl6]

'trying to flirt on an empty stomach...'

'......trying to flirt on an empty stomach......?'

'TRYING TO FLIRT ON AN EMPTY STOMACH?!'

Miles makes saucer-sized eyes at blurred landscape out the window, lips pressed tight together, balled fists against the old leather cab seats. a taut spring...

is he reading that right? did Apollo realize what he'd said?? judging from the near IMMEDIATE light snoring, Edgeworth guesses 'no'. alas, only the tipsy, panicking prosecutor will be privvy to this knowledge. the driver, blessedly, had long since closed the plastic partition between them - probably looking to avoid awkward situations exactly like this one.

Miles breaks into a cold sweat. he suppose this is what happens when you play with fire, as they say. he's bound to get a stiff jaw at this rate - it's all he can do to wrench his mind into planning mode: he won't make anything of it. no, not tonight, not now, but...

...he chances a glance at his sleeping companion. in the glow of the passing streetlights, in the glow of that drunken half-confession, he feels his heart stir oddly. Apollo really is a brave person.

but if he's drunk enough to pass out in a cab, he's too drunk to be left alone! Miles makes a resolution that he's sure will not later bite him in the ass.

and after offering the driver an enormous tip that seems to whisper 'tell no one about this', Edgeworth whisks himself around the cab with a swish of his coat, and is hastily at Apollo's side. don't say anything - just be your stalwart, responsible self, hmm?

he puts a steadying hand to the young man's back while the car purrs to life behind them and rumbles away into the night. "Make something? N-No...no, not in your state, Justice."

"Let's get you upstairs. I'll--..." what was one supposed to do in this situation, again? "I will get you a glass of water, and something to, ehm, soak all of this up. Come on, now..."

his other hand finds Apollo's shoulder, and prepares for the literal uphill battle of shepherding a small, drunken, potentially amorous defense attorney up several flights of stairs...

@edgelord-dl6 Continued Without Legacy Editor

" I think I'm... learning." Between savoring a taste in his mouth that was still pleasantly sweet and not bile, he loses a bit of the thread and murmurs to himself about what dinner should be. What was possibly perceived thoughtful silence, is lost as a facade when he snorts suddenly, ten minutes between when he last spoke, and apparently drifted off,and then made swiftly perked up and stiff, like an overblown balloon, of course.

" It's, not like I don't try to act natural..."

" But, uh, I guess I'm not doing myself favors, trying to flirt on an empty stomach." A pause makes him slip like a quarter on ice, straight back to sleep . An hour allows him a long enough rest to get through most of traffic without being conscious for it. LA traffic would soon release them; the highway is the last stretch before a few turns into the little nice-ish community of studio apartments. These neighborhoods, a shade prettier from the outside , but were never so spacious as any abode he was sure Miles was used to entering. The buzz hadn't left him, but by now, his body was beginning to remember the amount of water he'd downed between pretty iced drinks.It serves him long enough to step out of the taxi without falling nose first. It didn't prevent him from saying words without weighing their potential lean.

" Ah... You know, if... you didn't eat either, I can make something. It is my fault that we were out so late."

[edgelord-dl6]

surprising even herself, she hardly responds to the chaste little gift. he's done this before - in fact he pirouettes closer and closer with each passing day, needling into her space, leaping, infuriatingly, gracefully, over her iron fortifications... and always leaving without settling anything! leaving, always, with more questions than answers! more confusion!!

well, she's not going to let him get away with it anymore!

Franziska's hand juts out, closing around the collar of his shirt. she yanks him right back into her space, on her own terms.

she's done this before, too. and each time she fears -pathetically! - that he'll never make another wonderful, thrilling transgression against her again. well, enough of that, too! any man who fears her is not a man she'd waste her time with! and she has already wasted time!

she pushes him against the wall, getting right up into his pretty little face! "What is this? I mean it, you foolish, foppish--...r-rock and roll man! What are your intentions with me?!" Franziska embellishes this with a little shake, and continues, in a harsh whisper,

"You have foolishly danced around me like a flouncy little fool for MONTHS! Now I am tired of it! And I need to know! Because I-- I...!!"

with a hushed little shriek of frustration, Franziska grabs Klavier's cheeks between her palms and, lifting up on tiptoes, smashes her lips clumsily and earnestly and even perfectly against his.

he smells even better up close. infuriating!!!

it lasts for a panicked 3 seconds, before she pushes away from him so hard that she nearly stumbles, and makes to flee down the hallway - her heart pounding in her ears, which tingle uncomfortably from the rush of blood to her face...

“Aw, Dankeschön!” Klavier purred, smile growing.

Now, he could stop here and let them go their separate ways. However, the moment was far too good to let it go to waste: Franziska was right here, caught off guard, making expressions he had never seen her make before. He just had to use this opportunity for something!

“Ach, have I thanked you for saving me yet? Even if I had, I think you deserve a thank-you gift!”

It was the only warning Franziska got before he pressed a kiss to her forehead. A second later he moved out of her space, giving her room to breathe or run away (or punch him).

[edgelord-dl6]

he stiffens; the rise of his shoulders move his fluffy cravat in a manner that, hilariously, resembles a cat puffing out its fur in agitation. one hand juts out automatically, pressed to the detective's shoulder - a largely ineffectual gesture, but one that should, for any normal person, get the message across.

Miles blinks rapidly. his self-seriousness is going to cost him, but logic boy can't help being painfully honest!

"I suppose..." he starts, remarkably composed, thoughtful, even, "Given my shared history with Prosecutor Godot...it could be a simplification to call him 'just' a colleague--"

there's no innuendo in his words. that probably won't help him!

"...Are you going to tell me what this is about, Detective? Or would you rather breathe down my neck until one or both of us grows impatient?"

        “Your ‘colleague’. Really, that’s all?”   Disbelief, tinged with another hard to place emotion, darkens his voice, compressing it into a growl. Dissatisfied with the answer he’s been given, he doesn’t retreat from his superior’s personal space, instead he furthers his encroachment as he leans down, insistent.   “That’s all he is t’you?”   Edgeworth’s question drowns beneath the detective’s own.   “Your talks—they’re just ‘bout work?”

[edgelord-dl6]

Apollo's behaving himself, which is good. Edgeworth has always known him as responsible...though prone to sudden outbursts of nonsense - sort of like his boss. sort of like both of his bosses. although one couldn't quite call the first one's 'outburst' 'nonsense'.

in any case, he's glad he doesn't have to wrestle a whirlwind of swinging limbs into the open door of a cab. and despite the slight swaying and the excrutiatingly red forehead, Apollo seems intent on continuing the conversation... as well he should - it's about him.

still, Edgeworth can't help being tickled by the insistence. rather than his lookalike - a rabbit - Apollo's more like a hound on the chase.

after smiling privately out the window, the prosecutor turns to his seatmate. "What I mean is..." he searches for the words. he's not really in the business of giving people advice about this sort of thing, but his head is a bit airier tonight, "Trying hard to impress...I find it usually yields the opposite effect."

the only experience he can draw from is what now, many years later, brings a cringing dimple to his cheek: his years as a von Karma tryhard, sauntering along at Manfred's heels, desperate, in a way.

it wasn't romantic, but it felt...relevant.

Miles grimaces. he hates becoming sentimental, but the fool drinks anyway. "I suppose...allowing something more," he makes a vague gesture and his knuckle hits the window, "natural, to take precedence, is what tends to attract people. Something, er...true to one's self. That's...what I hear, at least."

now hold on, what right does a career bachelor have to speak on these terms?! by his own account, he has no idea what's made him so appealing to 'the masses' as he puts them.

...maybe he's talking about what he wants to see out of Apollo.

Miles grunts and sinks down a little in his seat, "I shouldn't be lecturing you on these sorts of things, given my own track record." he adds quickly, "Learning something new is an admirable thing in any case."

Elsewhere.

That meant nothing to him in this state.

If he were feeling a bit more empathetic and pressing of finer details, he might’ve made an interview of it. Though with even less of a clear goal than when he blurts, “ Really?” and then, nodding with ages of wisdom, that somehow he must understand the brooding and could already foresee the complex reasons for this man’s solitude. There were many just like Apollo tonight, thinking he could simplify most understanding if he just ordered another drink before the cash hits the bar. His raised two fingers are stuck stiffly into his pocket, rolling his eyes at being swiftly and smoothly denied. C'est La Vie, his smile says, while adjusting his feet to be perfectly flat on the floor, and his head above the waterline of the crowd. No need to lean too far forward and have his nose six inches too close to someone else’s.

The taxi slows down curtly for the duo waving it down in the street, recognizing at least one familiar face from the papers, which usually meant the tip was going to be worth a spill or two. The driver reads a sure need for silence after closing the privacy slide, as many high -profile clients did like to be chatty without an extra pair of ears in on it. Apollo speaks his address before they pull away, more clear and slow than he’d been with his alcohol orders.

“ So… what’d you mean by uh… ” He’s passed these city lights a hundred times. They still make him ogle at night.

“ Going about it the wrong way-?”

[edgelord-dl6]

"No--" she replies, recoiling slightly. she keeps him at an arm's length - though she allows him to get up - one fist curled around the fabric of the jacket that juts at his shoulder. "I've already decided."

and then she softens a bit - one can see it in the eyes, and the shoulders. her steely gaze flickers, her fist unclenches. it's her answer: she's not going to kill him, and, in fact, after a moment's thought, a kiss could've been exactly what she wanted out of him.

the thought is so striking that she blushes furiously and clamps shut those cold eyes. she looks half tormented and half thoughtful, like she's summing up the totality of the man she's straddling in the dirt ( she really is quite like her 'little brother' ... )

this is zero hour. he'd brought it upon himself but she'd finalized it. she can't handle innuendo and teasing - she speaks the language of direct action, and he'd been prodding at her one moment too long... but it worked. thanks to his nipping and yowling, she knew. it had to come to this. oddly enough, it spares her the embarrassment of being so unsure. oddly enough, it's refreshing. he is not quite like any man she's met before, this wild man...

her hands fall to his waist. her fingers toy with the belt loops of his riding pants. her previous anger is evaporating in the glow of his response...there's a clarity in her stare as she nods her head with all the grace of finalizing a contract.

"You should kiss me, in any case."

Bernadine snorts.

“ Plenty of - ! What are you-” Now, when there is a fist of one’s hair in someone else’s hand, one expects there to be pain, loss of dignity while scrabbling to fight back, and the memory of fights before that didn’t have the odds turned against him because he decided to grow out his blonde locks to make a mane for himself. Everything he did had a reason, motivation, and clear circumstances for every attack or retreat.

Nothing was more unclear to him than this prosecutor seizing him like he took the last bit of water left in the world, and she intended to suck it out of his throat before it got out of reach of her fangs. There’s pressure atop him that’s nearly as warm as the black saddle he’d been bouncing on minutes ago. Now he felt he’d switched places with the beast and now he was being mounted like a fresh stallion to be broken, panting after she’s left her iron-hot mark. Of course, now staring her in the face, the intent is fairly crystal, even if the birds have started singing another round, like the cartoonish kind that would’ve had him still staring at the sky.

He lays there.

“ Can’t… tell if you’re gonna go… praying mantis route…” Fingers find that gentle curve of her chin, the skin that’s maintained more perfectly than her record of wins. This would have the chalkboard muddled between them, at least at this moment of standstill. A hand opposite places on the ground, to have one solid hold to push upward from. She wasn’t that heavy to begin with.

“ Gonna let me have a real kiss before you decide?”