I hear the train a-comin / It's rollin round the bend [ooopen]

[jurisimpudent]

CHARACTERS: Edgeworth and the Murderettes
LOCATION: The brig, yar har
WARNINGS: Edgeworth is an emo asshole
SUMMARY: So Edgeworth is in the brig on his own insistence for a murder he didn't commit. Come make fun of him! Throw things! Pay $2 for a bag of peanuts to feed him!
NOTES: Can happen between the 17th and the 20th. If you can't get him to talk, present: badge.


[Edgeworth doesn't look up when people come to see him. He just keeps looking at his hands, quiet and still; he says little. Still, he hasn't put in a request for no visitors, and he won't; it's less from a desire for company than from a desire for people to be able to see he's getting no special treatment. In the brig, like any other criminal, no matter that he was until recently the one guarding it.

He's in his suit still. He looks exhausted.]

Comments

[idkmybffbloodwing]

[Now this, he just has to see. Normally, he wouldn't care, wouldn't even pay attention to the guy, but when stuck for so long in a place with so little to do, he has to find entertainment where he can get it. Visiting Edgeworth at the brig? Quality entertainment.

He's fortunate in that he actually hasn't been thrown in the brig himself more than the one time, but he remembers the place well and makes his way over to the cell Edgeworth is staying in.]

Funny how times change, ain't it?

[jurisimpudent]

[Edgeworth doesn't look up - but the tightening of his fists and the thinning of his lips is signal enough that Edgeworth recognizes that voice and knows what's about to come. But if he doesn't engage, then Mordecai might get bored. He might just go away.

So Edgeworth didn't respond to that.]

[idkmybffbloodwing]

[Well, that's rude. He looks at the kid, frowning.]

You ever even spent a night in jail before?

[jurisimpudent]

[That - that is an offensive question to hear. He tells himself to keep his silence - that, just like he'd been taught as a kid, if you ignore them they'll leave you alone. But just like he can't keep his silence on the network, he can't keep it in person, either - ]

Of course not.

[coffeeking]

You may actually be retarded.

[Yes, that is the first thing Ianto says – very casually – when he walks into the brig, looking as if he's on a morning stroll. He looks around as if he's in a park, not a jail, taking in his surroundings with his hands in his pockets.]

Either that, or you're covering for someone.

[jurisimpudent]

[He was lost in thought when Ianto came in, and it took a moment to register the man's voice. At once, though, he sits up and looks over; Ianto has, without question, earned his full attention. If not, necessarily, his deference: he just pauses a moment, then says:]

That's not a politically correct term. You...ought not use it.

[coffeeking]

Not a politically correct term for mentally handicapped people, maybe, but perfectly appropriate for self-sacrificing idiots who confess to murders they didn't commit.

[He says it nonchalantly, but he clearly disapproves.]

[supfirehawk]

[She doesn't believe that Edgeworth has the ability or guts to actually murder someone. Which is why she's decided to take their conversation face-to-face. He couldn't hang up on her if she right outside his cell.

There has to be more to this and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious about what was going on.]

So this is what a self-righteous murderer looks like.

[jurisimpudent]

[His shoulders hunch at the sound of her voice. He had a feeling he'd be seeing her; she adores tormenting him, adores provoking him. Of course she'd not be able to resist.

His voice is admirably cold, at least, when he speaks.]

Apparently.

[supfirehawk]

[She did, but for once she was keeping her voice fairly neutral. She couldn't imagine him being in here unless there was some damning proof. It wouldn't make sense.]

How'd it happen? You use that power of yours or get a hold of a gun?

[doggedly]

[What Tyke had Sirius do, when he joined up with security like a madman, was lock the cells, because they've been unlocked for ages, and no one knew about it. When he was doing the spells, it had seemed like a joke, like a great deal of fun. Charmswork. Easy. Sirius had even showed off a little, because he likes Tyke, because he wants to make her job easier.

What isn't easy is this. Edgeworth, supposedly accused of murder, dragged down to the brig--not dragged, probably. Willingly strolled down. That's more his style, because he's a git, and as soon as he listens to the message Sirius knows he didn't do it, because he knows Edgeworth. There's a scant few seconds where he thinks maybe--but only because of that weird message from the other day, and his refusal to answer on where he was and what the hell was going on. He'd walked the ship looking for him--maybe not as doggedly as he should have; he should have done more, he should have worked harder at it.

But what he can do is go and get him out. Because Edgeworth isn't a murderer, because he's one of Sirius' best mates aboard this ship and even if he was seeking revenge, he wouldn't kill over it. Not Edgeworth, who hasn't so much as jumped out of a tree on a dare.

So he waits. Not for long, he can't manage it for long, and without announcing himself he slips down to the brig to undo the spells that lock the doors. He doesn't say anything to Edgeworth as he works, his face tight and drawn and a little pale. The sooner he's done with it, the better.]

[jurisimpudent]

[He hears someone walking around, a few hours in; he assumes it's just whoever's been designated to guard him, and so he doesn't open his eyes. He's sitting with his head tilted back, trying to imagine himself elsewhere - back home, back in his little apartment in Los Angeles, where he could take two flights of stairs down and find his car and drive out to the ocean, where he could go for miles with nothing but silence and the sight of the road before him and the sea to his left...

Whoever it is isn't leaving. Finally, he opens his eyes to see who it is, what they want, and - ]

Sirius.

[He sits up at once - and then looks down. If anyone thinks he's guilty, Sirius will. He'd assumed he did, when Sirius didn't respond to him, when he didn't come visit. That's good, though. That's fine.]

You've...been assigned here?

[doggedly]

Hardly.

[He shoots a glance at Edgeworth--very brief, just a touch of misery, just enough to get a look at his face--and then he goes back to his work. One more jab of his wand, and the lock clicks, a loud and obvious sound.]

Come on.

[foolproofed]

[Marty pops in pretty quickly after they let him off the hook. Because honestly, he's having a really hard time thinking the guy who freaked about hitting him on the head would literally shoot a man to death or whatever - maybe the guy could kill somebody on accident, yeah, but that wasn't an accident. That shit was as intentional as they come.

Everything he's known about Edgeworth screams this is backwards, and sure, maybe the guy is secretly sinister and evil — there are dudes like that in the world, y'know — but Marty just didn't see it. Not at all.

So he goes walking over to look at Edgeworth, something exasperated on his face as he throws his hands up and drops 'em.]

Man, what the fuck.

What's going on, and why're you locked up behind bars?

[Well he knows 'why', he's just not buying it. This whole 'arrest me please, I'm guilty-looking' spiel. For once he actually sounds demanding, not the calm, disjointed sort of guy he usually is.]

[jurisimpudent]

[Edgeworth sees who's coming and immediately gets to his feet. At once he drops into a bow - a little ragged, without his usual crisp formality; when he straightens up again, his face is creased with worry.]

Mr. McFly. I am deeply sorry for...any inconvenience or distress caused to you by this incident.

[foolproofed]

Jesus, Edgeworth. [Now's not the time for apologies??] I'm a grown ass man; I can handle a body or two, dude.

[Sort of. He had a miniature panic attack back there, but that happens sometimes when you're trying to ignore pent up feelings and memories of a horrible time. He's totally over it.]

What's with turning yourself in? You really think I'd buy that you killed some guy? For what reason?

[puppydogeyes]

[It's several hours after the (very brief) exchange on the network that Taylor finally comes down to the brig. Other members of her team had the situation handled, taking Edgeworth in and getting him into a cell, and for a while she honestly hadn't wanted sweet fuck all to do with any of it. Her temper doesn't last long. Or more, she's learnt enough over her time on the ship to pull it back, how to keep it quiet and work with it, even if she never stamps it out completely.

She comes down with Edgeworth's first scheduled meal, a basic display of balanced nutrition laid out on a tray, and tells the current guard shift to wait outside. Her dogs mill quietly around her feet, snuffing along the floor and the bars of the nearest cells, and for a long minute she just stands there and watches him, doesn't say anything at all - almost as if she's waiting for the whole thing to be a bad joke, for him to get up and get out of the cell already.

But he doesn't.

She huffs a sigh, bending to slide the tray through the slot at the far side of the bars.]

This is the biggest load of bullshit you have ever made me deal with, you know that, right?

[jurisimpudent]

[He looks up at her when she comes into the cell - just briefly, to ascertain her identity - and then looks down again, fixing his eyes on the floor. He hears that food tray scraping on the ground, and feels his stomach clench with revulsion. He's quite the criminal now, isn't he? Food on a tray, delivered on a schedule. Pushed through so he has no opportunity to do damage to her hands.

He doesn't want to eat it - never wants to eat again - but to just leave it sitting there will be an insult. He stands, goes to pick it up, and carries it back to place on the bench where he was sitting. Then he turns back to her and speaks hesitantly.]

As I said on the network, I am...deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused you. Did you access my work-station? I think there are a number of files there that could help ease any difficulties, and instructions there for anyone who succeeds me.

[puppydogeyes]

[Taylor watches him pick up the tray, watches him carry it over and sit again. She's pretty sure he's going to try and avoid eating, if he can, but she's got no intentions of letting that happen. Even if what he starts saying just annoys her even more.]

Stop, Edgeworth. [She shakes her head.] I don't want apologies. They're fucking useless.

[Just words, too small or never big enough. Better to actually do something. She takes a step forward, coming to lean against the bars.]

I wanna know what's actually going on here.

[magewarden]

This is odd.

Incredibly odd.

Daylen has seen many an odd thing in his time, many a puzzle, many a one-sided tale with things that didn't fit.

Edgeworth had not struck him as the type to do something like this. The type to murder, or the type to --

Well, actually if Edgeworth had brought someone to harm in any way he would, likely as not, turn himself in. That would be fitting. Yet Edgeworth... no, Daylen does not believe he did this. It simply does not fit. Which means -- what? He is covering for someone else? Why? Who? Would Edgeworth do such a thing? If not, why else? Principle?

He's been standing there a few minutes now, silently regarding Edgeworth with dark critical eyes -- squinting at him in concentration as he tries to calculate possibilities. Tries to come up with theories, trashes them, formulates new ones. His expression is fixed into disapproval. This, he thinks, is not any way for a protector of justice to behave. Daylen may not be the world's foremost expert on law, especially not modern law, but neither does this place have a fully implemented system.

After another few minutes of staring he unfolds his arms, breaks the silence with a practiced calm tone -- the kind you might use on a startled child or animal.

"I understand," he begins, "that it must be upsetting for you. To have someone from your home world killed in this place. I also understand there were... extenuating circumstances... I do not wish to place stock in the words of others, be they staff or no. I would rather listen to the words from you yourself. Marty will not be held, you will be glad to know. I am unsure why you considered yourself... so assured of his innocence. Friendship, perhaps. However. I want you to consider this. You are a man of law in your own world. If this man was truly murdered, then there is a murderer out there on this vessel. If you keep yourself here, you are not doing everything within your power to bring that man to justice. The rest of us will, of course, but we will be underpowered by your lack of co-operation. Is that just? Think on that." He pauses, flicks his eyes away with a frown for a second, then squints back up at Edgeworth. "With that in mind; I would like it if you shared facts you think pertinent to the investigation. You knew the victim best, it seems."

[jurisimpudent]

Edgeworth remains silent throughout that whole speech. He just sits there and listens to it. It's true, yes, that the person responsible (if it wasn't him - and God, in the pit of his stomach there's a curling terror that it was, that he did this and then just forgot about it like he'd forgotten the truth of that day, like he'd forgotten von Karma standing over Dad with a gun in his hand) is out there, still, and must be apprehended. It's true, and to let him go free would be dangerous to everyone.

But Edgeworth is just...so tired. He's just so exhausted. He's been fighting every day he's been on this ship, never taking a rest, like a man struggling to reach the shore against a vicious rip current. How easy would it now be to let himself sink, at last, to the bottom?

He doesn't give an answer. Not a true one. Instead he speaks quietly.

"Why, sir, are you so assured of my innocence?"

[magewarden]

"I am not assured." Daylen tilts his head at Edgeworth, considering his words before going on. "I have no proof until an alibi is cleared for you, if you have a concrete one. I do not know you well enough to declare myself certain, but I know enough to realise it would be out of character for you. You do not have the temperament for murder. You display anxiety in awkward situations, as you did when you interviewed me. You fluster easily. You are a neat and tidy person, if you office is anything to go by. It could of course have been an extreme reaction, and I could believe that if you had done such a thing you would indeed turn yourself in -- however the weapon use was that of a marksman. You are a secretary to security team. Do you have marksman training? I would have to investigate to find out, unless you wish to share. Likewise, there was no weapon at the scene. Considering your reputation for attention to detai it seems odd you would hide it and then turn yourself in. That would make unnecessary trouble and mess. Despite this, however, I find your reasoning unclear. I think you are afraid, on some level. You could be enforcing this simply to assure yourself of your own safety. If someone from your home was killed you could be concerned you would be next. Alternatively, you could be setting yourself aside by force to prevent your involvement: either due to a fear of bias influencing the investigation or simply because you do not desire to seek justice for this man you had some issue with."

[stimulations]

[It's been a long time since Josias last saw Edgeworth. It's Josias' own doing, as much as Edgeworth's time is so constantly dedicated to his work. Seraphim had told him people would forget him, where he couldn't talk, and while logic had weighed against that, logic never did much to smooth the instinctual grip of fear in a man's gut. Coming down to the brig after seeing the messages on the network, after listening to murmurs of rumour, he wonders if Edgeworth has forgotten him - and then thinks that's a remarkably self-centred thing to have on his mind, seeing the sorry state of the young man sitting in the cell. The stiff line of his back has slumped, the proud angle of his jaw tipped dejectedly downwards. Josias might have wanted to see something softer in him, draw it out, but not like this.

He can't speak to get his attention, and in some respects that might raise question why he was here at all. He couldn't question Edgeworth, he couldn't offer any words of comfort. But he still lifts his hand, tapping the backs of his fingers against one of the bars, almost as if he's knocking. There's a quiet smile on his face, tinged apologetic, but it's less for Edgeworth and more a measure he's started to take in meeting people again after his absence, the reactions to his continued lack of speech, and the reactions to his appearance - scrawnier than before, skin paled, and hair only just starting to grow through from being completely shorn off.]

[jurisimpudent]

[Edgeworth doesn't hear him coming, and it takes a moment even just to register that noise. When he realizes it's not just a ship noise, he jumps; then he looks up, eyes a little wide; then he relaxes when he sees who it is.

No words; that means, then, that the man is still mute. For a moment, Edgeworth is distracted from his own churning anxiety to feel a moment of churning anxiety for Josias; he doesn't understand the root of his new silence, and he doesn't know that St. John will ever speak again, and that prospect is dire. It fills him with dread for him.

That little break from worrying about himself to worry about another is - nice, in a way. He's not going to stop being miserable to be happy, but he can channel different misery. So he gives a bit of a nod of greeting, not remotely unwelcoming, and then says, quietly - ]

Hello.

[stimulations]

[Josias still hasn't worked out any real system of sign language, had spent too long stubbornly not attempting communication with anyone outside of Cambridge, Topher and Stark. Text having recently returned to him - with patience and concentration - hasn't helped that much, either, but he is beginning to regain his confidence in general, and that helps in improvisation. Besides, hello is an easy one, just a small wave. Then he taps at the apple of his throat and shows an open palm, a small tip of his head, quick explanation and apology that he still can't speak - not that the problem had ever been his throat.

But he didn't come here for him, and he takes a few steps over along the bars of the cell, so he's nearer where Edgeworth is seated. Then he points at the young man, shakes his hand, and points at the floor of the brig. You shouldn't be here.]