So come on/give me the worst and then again/I'm feeling braver than I've ever been
Day: 40
Characters: Jack Kelly (
cowboy_newsie ) and Miles Edgeworth (
mentis_reae )
Summary: Nothing like a good chat between best friends. Er, if you replace "chat" with "fight" and put an "ex-" in front of "best friends".
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Morning
Status: Closed/Incomplete
One of the great, unacknowledged flaws of renouncing your friends and cutting all ties to them when they were patients and you were a nurse was-- well, you had to see them. It was sort of in the job description. Jack just counted himself lucky none of his friends had been in therapy, and maybe if his luck held they wouldn't be-- he didn't know what he'd do then. If he ought to take the therapy, or let it pass; but if he did that, they might get hurt-- but if he was to continue this, he couldn't help him, and it wasn't as if people really much believed him anyway--
Jack shook his head as if trying to dislodge the panicked trail of thoughts. They'd get him nowhere; if someone was up for therapy, he'd deal with it then. Not before.
Returning from Malcolm/Paris' cell, Jack pulled a face, trying not to think of the man. He supposed he'd visit Anubis, if only to convince the anteater face to face nothing was up. He could defend himself well enough, if need be, though admittedly he'd never fought an anteater before. But it couldn't be much different from fighting a human, could it? And that was all supposing all Anubis wanted to do was fight-- hell, the bastard might not even be lying for once, and simply want to talk.
Stranger things had happened.
Mind set, Jack headed back downstairs, missing the door to head back to staff quarters. It'd be a simple chat, and then he could return to-- well, brooding.
He nearly made it, too, before the sight of a familiar figure-- one who, not two days ago, he'd regarded as his best friend-- came into his line of vision. As with Nami, there was a brief panic, wondering if he ought to run, but then Edgeworth's taunts-- about Santa Fe, about his father, his friends, his education-- came to mind, and all thoughts of fleeing died. He wouldn't run from this smug bastard, old friend or not-- wouldn't give him the satisfaction. So Jack sauntered forward, putting on a cocky grin and as much swaggering attitude as he could muster.
"Fancy meetin' ya here."
Characters: Jack Kelly (
cowboy_newsie ) and Miles Edgeworth (
mentis_reae )
Summary: Nothing like a good chat between best friends. Er, if you replace "chat" with "fight" and put an "ex-" in front of "best friends".
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Morning
Status: Closed/Incomplete
One of the great, unacknowledged flaws of renouncing your friends and cutting all ties to them when they were patients and you were a nurse was-- well, you had to see them. It was sort of in the job description. Jack just counted himself lucky none of his friends had been in therapy, and maybe if his luck held they wouldn't be-- he didn't know what he'd do then. If he ought to take the therapy, or let it pass; but if he did that, they might get hurt-- but if he was to continue this, he couldn't help him, and it wasn't as if people really much believed him anyway--
Jack shook his head as if trying to dislodge the panicked trail of thoughts. They'd get him nowhere; if someone was up for therapy, he'd deal with it then. Not before.
Returning from Malcolm/Paris' cell, Jack pulled a face, trying not to think of the man. He supposed he'd visit Anubis, if only to convince the anteater face to face nothing was up. He could defend himself well enough, if need be, though admittedly he'd never fought an anteater before. But it couldn't be much different from fighting a human, could it? And that was all supposing all Anubis wanted to do was fight-- hell, the bastard might not even be lying for once, and simply want to talk.
Stranger things had happened.
Mind set, Jack headed back downstairs, missing the door to head back to staff quarters. It'd be a simple chat, and then he could return to-- well, brooding.
He nearly made it, too, before the sight of a familiar figure-- one who, not two days ago, he'd regarded as his best friend-- came into his line of vision. As with Nami, there was a brief panic, wondering if he ought to run, but then Edgeworth's taunts-- about Santa Fe, about his father, his friends, his education-- came to mind, and all thoughts of fleeing died. He wouldn't run from this smug bastard, old friend or not-- wouldn't give him the satisfaction. So Jack sauntered forward, putting on a cocky grin and as much swaggering attitude as he could muster.
"Fancy meetin' ya here."