Five years ago, a murder occured- [CLOSED]

[wrightingwrongs]

CHARACTERS: Phoenix Wright, Franziska Von Karma
LOCATION: Crew Quarters; Lounge.
WARNINGS: Talk of death, murder, yelling lawyers.
SUMMARY: Phoenix wants to tell Edgeworth the truth about DL-6, with case files in hand. Franziska disagrees.
NOTES:


THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA VS. MILES EDGEWORTH.

A file hung in front of a lawyers face, as he weighed the options in his mind. He'd told Edgeworth, sure, told him what had happened - what.. would happen, to him. And yet...

It's nothing without proof. That's how he's always been.

Phoenix let out a sigh, hands tightening on the manilla envelope. Evidence lists, transcripts, even a glance at these made the memories rush back to him. He barely even needed the list. But someone else did.

A little slow in gathering up his things from the lounge. He was usually in a rush to pick these up - someone could have come in and questioned him on it. But today, wracked by indecision, he was much less hasty about packing up.

That would prove to be a mistake.

Comments

[whippings]

Franziska had just been passing through, minding her own business, when she noticed a familiar head of spiky hair in the corner of her eye. Instinctively, her hand slipped into the pocket where she'd been keeping the card she'd received this past jump. She had already determined that she would have to talk to Phoenix Wright someday; once that decision had been made, it merely became an issue of timing. She wouldn't do it if the moment wasn't perfect, and in a way, it had become easy to stall the issue. Stalling -- what an amateur tactic! She was almost disappointed with herself, but she would be no longer. He was right there; Franziska had to do little more than seize the opportunity now, and that was something she would hardly back down from.

The click of her boots against the floor as she made her way over was just one of the ways in which she decided to announce her presence; the second, far more obvious, way was to call out his name as she neared him. "Phoenix Wright --"

And then she stopped abruptly, both in speech and motion, to simply gape at him. After that had gone on for longer than a moment (far too long!) she snapped her mouth shut and turned that look of astonishment into a glare. An incredibly angry glare, for what had cut her short was the realization of precisely what Phoenix Wright had been doing here (here, in a public space of all things, the fool). It only served to bring back memories of the last time they had properly spoken, and those memories were nothing short of unpleasant.

Her grip returned to tighten on the handle of her whip, the knuckles of her ungloved hand tense and white.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?"

She had half a mind to give him a lash just for good measure right then, but even she could acknowledge that in this matter, time was of the essence and the sooner both Phoenix Wright and the files were out of here, the better.