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[objectiondenied]

Who: Phoenix (yes, again, I am so sorry) and Edgeworth
When: 17 October 2009. Evening 7pm-ish.
Where: Notes, ie. the jazz club that isn't owned by a PC.
Summary: Edgeworth finally gets Phoenix in a position where he'll talk about what he's been doing the last seven years and why he isn't practicing law and this summary is a lot dirtier than I meant

Comments

[bluffing_ruffle]

There was absolutely no way Edgeworth would go to a jazz house in his court suit, and while it meant a delay in his search for the truth, he had needed to visit home first to change out of it and into something more relaxed. One grey dress shirt, set of more comfortable shoes, and pair of very dark blue button-fly jeans later, he approached the building mentioned on the note with nothing more than his keys and his wallet on him.

No need to take notes, after all, with a memory like his.

Upon entering, he immediately began to glance around for Phoenix, having no desire for alcohol himself.

If the spiky-haired idiot wasn't there like he'd said he'd be, Edgeworth was going to be very... displeased.

[objectiondenied]

Phoenix didn't mind the wait, it gave him more time to think about what he was going to say, which was something he hadn't been able to do seven years ago. It was a familiar situation, but the City made things different, made them more difficult.

He saw Miles immediately and lifted a hand to wave him over. He had dressed up for the night, a dark blue dress shirt instead of the sweater and t-shirt, the hat left on his kitchen table. He didn't plan on recording this conversation. Especially if Edgeworth reacted badly. Which was... likely.

"You look good," the words were out before he could stop them and he smiled, almost sheepishly as he leaned back into his chair. "Nothing to drink, Edgeworth?"