(no subject)
Who: Phoenix (yes, again, I am so sorry) and Edgeworth
When: 17 October 2009. Evening 7pm-ish.
Where: Notes, ie. the jazz club that isn't owned by a PC.
Summary: Edgeworth finally gets Phoenix in a position where he'll talk about what he's been doing the last seven years and why he isn't practicing law and this summary is a lot dirtier than I meant it to be.
Warnings: Gratuitous amounts of tl;dr
Format: LOL Paragraph
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He'd winded up leaving the note with a bailiff rather than waiting for Edgeworth to appear, tired of being in the courthouse on such a nice day. Just a few words on a slip of paper and he knew Edgeworth's curiosity and desire for the truth would bring him out here to this side of town.
Notes, the jazz house where he had first invited Door to live with him - insisted upon it now that he tried to recall the memory - and where a relationship he could barely remember (and didn't want to forget) had started. It hurt walking through the door, but he greeted the bartender like an old friend, taking a table in the back corner.
There was a new band tonight and they seemed to be going to for an almost hopeful song, one that Phoenix knew by heart, having played it one too many times at the Borscht. After ordering his drink, he found himself humming along with the music as he waited.
When: 17 October 2009. Evening 7pm-ish.
Where: Notes, ie. the jazz club that isn't owned by a PC.
Summary: Edgeworth finally gets Phoenix in a position where he'll talk about what he's been doing the last seven years and why he isn't practicing law and this summary is a lot dirtier than I meant it to be.
Warnings: Gratuitous amounts of tl;dr
Format: LOL Paragraph
-
He'd winded up leaving the note with a bailiff rather than waiting for Edgeworth to appear, tired of being in the courthouse on such a nice day. Just a few words on a slip of paper and he knew Edgeworth's curiosity and desire for the truth would bring him out here to this side of town.
Notes, the jazz house where he had first invited Door to live with him - insisted upon it now that he tried to recall the memory - and where a relationship he could barely remember (and didn't want to forget) had started. It hurt walking through the door, but he greeted the bartender like an old friend, taking a table in the back corner.
There was a new band tonight and they seemed to be going to for an almost hopeful song, one that Phoenix knew by heart, having played it one too many times at the Borscht. After ordering his drink, he found himself humming along with the music as he waited.