Hey. Lawyer. [ A little pause, the Hollow on the screen spending a few seconds thinking something over. ] Edgeworth.
[ Because the following deserves to have a name attached to it. He can’t even start saying the word without grinning in a particularly satisfied, approving way. He’s back in his own apartment again, this time surrounded by
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Dude.
Dude.
Save the drama for your mama.
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Nothing you said made any fucking sense.
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What's the point of posting this to the network? Is our little skull-faced friend jealous?
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I'll get my turn at 'em.
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Whaddaya mean get your "turn" at 'em? Swear, you talk like an old-school gangster.
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It means I'm not giving up on fucking one or the other. [ or both. He's not picky. ]
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