Someone protect our home. / Who will protect our home?
WHO: Miles "Jerkface" Edgeworth and Yuffie "Closetalker" Kisaragi
WHERE: 515 Park Avenue. On the fourth-slash-fifth floor. 515 Park Avenue was constructed in 1910 in the Italian Palazzo style. The architect was Ernest Greene. It's a twelve-story building with eighteen apartments, of which twelve are single and six duplex. Edgeworth lives in one of the duplex units. It has a miniature library and shit. Twelve rooms in all. Four baths. The landlords are Pease and Ellingham. His unit is on the south side of the building. The super shows up THE VERY SAME DAY if a tenant places a call, and brings them their MAIL AND GARBAGE KEY if they happen to LOSE THEM. And will TURN ON THE HEAT WHEN THEY WANT HIM TO. (P.S. I did too much research)
DATE: December 12, 1935.
WARNINGS: Pess being a total bi-- dammit I can't bring myself to make that joke. Edgeworth's dog is involved so I should warn for possible diabeetus. Also lol doglogs.
SUMMARY: Dammit Yuffie there is a knocker, right there, on the door. Use it. It's there for a reason. Well - a reason other than looking pretty. (It's made of platinum and diamonds. The door is made of mahogany. THE SUPER WILL SHOW UP WHEN YOU ASK HIM TO.)
STATUS: Closed and incomplete.
Pess was barking.
I wondered sometimes if she was happy. She was energetic and bright and always seemed glad to see me, and glad to go outside, and glad when I set down her food, and glad when she got a new toy, and glad when I sat down to read and she got to sit in my lap, and glad when pigeons perched on the balcony and she was able to bark at the door loudly enough that the birds became spooked and flew away. Yet at the same time - I wondered if it was lonely. I was so rarely at home. She so rarely had company. As bright as she was, and as social as she was, I wondered if she would do better with another owner.
I suppose it was selfish on my part that I never even considered giving her to someone who could care for her better. But I never even considered it.
Today was a rare, lazy day. I'd slept in till seven and had gone into the office only for perhaps four hours, then stopped by the library for a new book. It was chill, so when I had come home I'd examined the fireplace for some time before giving up and merely turning the heat up a bit more, and I'd sat down at my desk, opened my book, and lost myself in the story. It was nearing dark when I looked up to realize that Pess' was barking more loudly and more furiously than usual.
I blinked, my vision rather blurred from the long hours of reading despite my reading glasses, and I looked warily at the door that led from my study into the living room. Perhaps my nervousness was absurd. Pess, after all, had barked at object as large as clouds and as small as dust mites; her barking indicated nothing save that she was conscious. Yet even so -
And then I heard a voice.
I was on my feet immediately, bursting through the door and yanking the chain to flood the room with light. I wasn't sure what purpose someone would have for breaking in - their intentions might have been thievery or might have been something more nefarious still - but I was quite certain that the act was a malicious one. Whoever the trespasser was, I was quite certain that he was -
"Miss Kisaragi?"
I stared a moment at the girl, thrown off not by her presence, but by the plain terror written across her face. Indeed, I wasn't surprised to see her there; she was, after all, a thief, and I had made no secret of my resources. But for what reason did she look so frightened? I certainly wouldn't harm her - I was holding my book, yes, and that might look like a weapon to the wary, but with my finger still between the pages marking my place I would do more harm to myself than to her if I were to strike her with it (and even though it was my right to defend my home, and as fiercely as I disliked the girl, the mere thought of harming Kisaragi frankly caused me the strangest distress).
But her frightened gaze wasn't fixed on me. Instead, she was looking at Pess. Pess, who did not come halfway up to her knee and weighed eight point three pounds (as of her last visit to the veterinarian) and who was currently flipped over onto her back, writhing with pure joy at the sight of a new person.
To my credit, I had not taken Pess in in the expectation that she would be a guard dog. I would have liked her to be slightly less welcoming to a home invader, however.
WHERE: 515 Park Avenue. On the fourth-slash-fifth floor. 515 Park Avenue was constructed in 1910 in the Italian Palazzo style. The architect was Ernest Greene. It's a twelve-story building with eighteen apartments, of which twelve are single and six duplex. Edgeworth lives in one of the duplex units. It has a miniature library and shit. Twelve rooms in all. Four baths. The landlords are Pease and Ellingham. His unit is on the south side of the building. The super shows up THE VERY SAME DAY if a tenant places a call, and brings them their MAIL AND GARBAGE KEY if they happen to LOSE THEM. And will TURN ON THE HEAT WHEN THEY WANT HIM TO. (P.S. I did too much research)
DATE: December 12, 1935.
WARNINGS: Pess being a total bi-- dammit I can't bring myself to make that joke. Edgeworth's dog is involved so I should warn for possible diabeetus. Also lol doglogs.
SUMMARY: Dammit Yuffie there is a knocker, right there, on the door. Use it. It's there for a reason. Well - a reason other than looking pretty. (It's made of platinum and diamonds. The door is made of mahogany. THE SUPER WILL SHOW UP WHEN YOU ASK HIM TO.)
STATUS: Closed and incomplete.
Pess was barking.
I wondered sometimes if she was happy. She was energetic and bright and always seemed glad to see me, and glad to go outside, and glad when I set down her food, and glad when she got a new toy, and glad when I sat down to read and she got to sit in my lap, and glad when pigeons perched on the balcony and she was able to bark at the door loudly enough that the birds became spooked and flew away. Yet at the same time - I wondered if it was lonely. I was so rarely at home. She so rarely had company. As bright as she was, and as social as she was, I wondered if she would do better with another owner.
I suppose it was selfish on my part that I never even considered giving her to someone who could care for her better. But I never even considered it.
Today was a rare, lazy day. I'd slept in till seven and had gone into the office only for perhaps four hours, then stopped by the library for a new book. It was chill, so when I had come home I'd examined the fireplace for some time before giving up and merely turning the heat up a bit more, and I'd sat down at my desk, opened my book, and lost myself in the story. It was nearing dark when I looked up to realize that Pess' was barking more loudly and more furiously than usual.
I blinked, my vision rather blurred from the long hours of reading despite my reading glasses, and I looked warily at the door that led from my study into the living room. Perhaps my nervousness was absurd. Pess, after all, had barked at object as large as clouds and as small as dust mites; her barking indicated nothing save that she was conscious. Yet even so -
And then I heard a voice.
I was on my feet immediately, bursting through the door and yanking the chain to flood the room with light. I wasn't sure what purpose someone would have for breaking in - their intentions might have been thievery or might have been something more nefarious still - but I was quite certain that the act was a malicious one. Whoever the trespasser was, I was quite certain that he was -
"Miss Kisaragi?"
I stared a moment at the girl, thrown off not by her presence, but by the plain terror written across her face. Indeed, I wasn't surprised to see her there; she was, after all, a thief, and I had made no secret of my resources. But for what reason did she look so frightened? I certainly wouldn't harm her - I was holding my book, yes, and that might look like a weapon to the wary, but with my finger still between the pages marking my place I would do more harm to myself than to her if I were to strike her with it (and even though it was my right to defend my home, and as fiercely as I disliked the girl, the mere thought of harming Kisaragi frankly caused me the strangest distress).
But her frightened gaze wasn't fixed on me. Instead, she was looking at Pess. Pess, who did not come halfway up to her knee and weighed eight point three pounds (as of her last visit to the veterinarian) and who was currently flipped over onto her back, writhing with pure joy at the sight of a new person.
To my credit, I had not taken Pess in in the expectation that she would be a guard dog. I would have liked her to be slightly less welcoming to a home invader, however.