(no subject)
Who: Franziska von Karma and Miles Edgeworth
When: Sunday 24th of October, in the early afternoon!
Where: Edgeworth's apartment.
Summary: Franziska's decided that little brother needs some cheering up, partially because he still seems somewhat down about everything, but also partially in an attempt to make up for her own behaviour.
Warnings: She'll most likely fail miserably. But, uh, yeah, I got nothing.
Perfectly punctual per usual, Franziska von Karma made her way briskly towards Miles Edgeworth's apartment, handbag slung over the shoulder of the arm she was carrying her whip in, a bottle of wine wrapped in brown paper in her other hand. She was determined to see him drink at least one glass when he was isolated from his usual excuses, and well, if he didn't? She could just bring it home with her again - she had, after all, bought him another (belated, but that was his fault, really) present.
After all, she had conceded the point that gifting him with a present that he did not want was ill-mannered (all that nonsense about it being the thought that counted was ridiculous; surely if one was thinking, they could the best to give their an acquaintance a gift they would actually enjoy), so in the depths of her bag she had even bought him some tea - wrapped, of course, but she would not mention the flustering evening full of shouting at tape and yelling at scissors to anyone, least of all Miles Edgeworth.
Double-checking her phone to ensure that she was, indeed, exactly on time, she set the bottle down momentarily to raise her fist to the door and knock.
When: Sunday 24th of October, in the early afternoon!
Where: Edgeworth's apartment.
Summary: Franziska's decided that little brother needs some cheering up, partially because he still seems somewhat down about everything, but also partially in an attempt to make up for her own behaviour.
Warnings: She'll most likely fail miserably. But, uh, yeah, I got nothing.
Perfectly punctual per usual, Franziska von Karma made her way briskly towards Miles Edgeworth's apartment, handbag slung over the shoulder of the arm she was carrying her whip in, a bottle of wine wrapped in brown paper in her other hand. She was determined to see him drink at least one glass when he was isolated from his usual excuses, and well, if he didn't? She could just bring it home with her again - she had, after all, bought him another (belated, but that was his fault, really) present.
After all, she had conceded the point that gifting him with a present that he did not want was ill-mannered (all that nonsense about it being the thought that counted was ridiculous; surely if one was thinking, they could the best to give their an acquaintance a gift they would actually enjoy), so in the depths of her bag she had even bought him some tea - wrapped, of course, but she would not mention the flustering evening full of shouting at tape and yelling at scissors to anyone, least of all Miles Edgeworth.
Double-checking her phone to ensure that she was, indeed, exactly on time, she set the bottle down momentarily to raise her fist to the door and knock.