[ Hal doesn't even glance at Edgeworth when he offers his pants; it's the polite thing to do, really. The surprise of Deb's bizarre introduction is wearing off quickly, and the reality of the situation is settling back in. The gun, for one, and Hal's eyes don't leave Deb's face other than to briefly note the way her hand tightens on the weapon.
Whoever this woman is, she can see him in a way Edgeworth doesn't; recognizes him for the predator that he is, and even if she's doing a good job of playing it down, the tension is still there. It's something he's keyed into; something he has, in the past, found pleasure in causing.
Today, he's not sure how to respond to it. Shame is the first response, one he's trained himself to focus on - shame at the fact that he's a monster to be feared. But there's still the bitter taste of blood at the back of his throat, and it adds its own edge, drowns out better judgement with something much baser.
Because he is a predator, and she's responding like prey, eyes locked on him and defenses at the ready. And he's exhausted, and he's starving, and he can't deny the instinct any longer. It's like the flipping of a switch in his mind, and suddenly he relaxes (despite the perfect posture, of course), tension easing off his shoulders. His voice is steady when he speaks up again, smooth and assured. ]
It's been just over a day since I first left the lift. I have seen others, but the hallways have not allowed us to stay together long - and there are creatures here.
[ And, with a small trace of wry humor- ]
Creatures other than your turkey, that is - and I imagine they are somewhat more capable of doing us harm.
this is a really bizarre trio
Whoever this woman is, she can see him in a way Edgeworth doesn't; recognizes him for the predator that he is, and even if she's doing a good job of playing it down, the tension is still there. It's something he's keyed into; something he has, in the past, found pleasure in causing.
Today, he's not sure how to respond to it. Shame is the first response, one he's trained himself to focus on - shame at the fact that he's a monster to be feared. But there's still the bitter taste of blood at the back of his throat, and it adds its own edge, drowns out better judgement with something much baser.
Because he is a predator, and she's responding like prey, eyes locked on him and defenses at the ready. And he's exhausted, and he's starving, and he can't deny the instinct any longer. It's like the flipping of a switch in his mind, and suddenly he relaxes (despite the perfect posture, of course), tension easing off his shoulders. His voice is steady when he speaks up again, smooth and assured. ]
It's been just over a day since I first left the lift. I have seen others, but the hallways have not allowed us to stay together long - and there are creatures here.
[ And, with a small trace of wry humor- ]
Creatures other than your turkey, that is - and I imagine they are somewhat more capable of doing us harm.