Damn it, damn it - One could hold a knife to his throat, strike him, threaten him, any of it, and Edgeworth would stay strong and steadfast, but gunfire touched something primal within him. He blanched, and stumbled back, and the mental grip around the woman's ankle slackened, and he pressed his eyes shut -

And then shook himself mentally, snarling in fury at his own weakness and terror, forcing himself to regain his feet. He forced his eyes open again and spat, his voice raw, "You've discharged your weapon at a member of security. I don't give a damn about helping you. You're culpable." And then he turned to Raven, making sure she was okay. No wounds from richocheting bullets that he could see, and she still looked steady.

"I'll hold her. Can you secure her if I do?" And then a moment later he took a breath and extended another mental hand to press her gun onto the floor, pointing away from anyone else so that even if she pressed the trigger no one would be hurt.