If I wasn't shy
WHO: Miles Edgeworth and Angelina Durless
WHERE: The St. Regis
DATE: October 11, 1935
WARNINGS: Fine dining
SUMMARY: Angelina thinks Edgeworth needs to get out more. Edgeworth thinks Edgeworth needs to work more. It's basically a sitcom.
STATUS: Closed, complete
My sincerest regrets, but something has come up, I rehearsed in my head as I listlessly toweled off my face after my shave. A terrible thing; it seems that the detainment of one of our... It was Sunday; the courts were closed. I despised the very concept of a day of rest as I picked through my coats. It seems that more work has to be done in preparation for court tomorrow. Yet I didn't have a court date tomorrow, and I had no doubt that the formidable woman would research this and know. Was there no escape from this damnable thing?
I simply couldn't think of an excuse. I wanted to, dearly. I despised these events, hated the small talk and the petty glamor, hated being scrutinized by those around me. I hated high society. A good evening was sitting at home with my dog and a cup of tea and a good book and leaving the damned socializing to those who had nothing better to do, not wasting one's time dressing to the nines, not setting aside that book, not feeling irritable and self-conscious when people stared as I climbed out of my car. Yet even though I tried desperately, even till those last moments when I spotted Dr. Durless, I could not think of a reason to be elsewhere, and so I was trapped.
I was quite certain this was her. No other individual was quite so flamboyant in style or in person. Indeed, she seemed quite thoroughly as loud here as she was in the journals, chatting with standers-by, laughing gaily; it was with a great effort that I kept myself from shrinking back from her and the attention she arrested, and with a greater effort still that I forced myself to even walk toward them.
"Dr. Durless?" I asked, then extended my hand for her to shake. "Miles Edgeworth."
WHERE: The St. Regis
DATE: October 11, 1935
WARNINGS: Fine dining
SUMMARY: Angelina thinks Edgeworth needs to get out more. Edgeworth thinks Edgeworth needs to work more. It's basically a sitcom.
STATUS: Closed, complete
My sincerest regrets, but something has come up, I rehearsed in my head as I listlessly toweled off my face after my shave. A terrible thing; it seems that the detainment of one of our... It was Sunday; the courts were closed. I despised the very concept of a day of rest as I picked through my coats. It seems that more work has to be done in preparation for court tomorrow. Yet I didn't have a court date tomorrow, and I had no doubt that the formidable woman would research this and know. Was there no escape from this damnable thing?
I simply couldn't think of an excuse. I wanted to, dearly. I despised these events, hated the small talk and the petty glamor, hated being scrutinized by those around me. I hated high society. A good evening was sitting at home with my dog and a cup of tea and a good book and leaving the damned socializing to those who had nothing better to do, not wasting one's time dressing to the nines, not setting aside that book, not feeling irritable and self-conscious when people stared as I climbed out of my car. Yet even though I tried desperately, even till those last moments when I spotted Dr. Durless, I could not think of a reason to be elsewhere, and so I was trapped.
I was quite certain this was her. No other individual was quite so flamboyant in style or in person. Indeed, she seemed quite thoroughly as loud here as she was in the journals, chatting with standers-by, laughing gaily; it was with a great effort that I kept myself from shrinking back from her and the attention she arrested, and with a greater effort still that I forced myself to even walk toward them.
"Dr. Durless?" I asked, then extended my hand for her to shake. "Miles Edgeworth."