ataraxionlogs | who let the dogs out??

[ It would be quite easy for a member of the F.B.I to look down on a mere security officer, but there are two obstacles in this case. One: Will isn't interested in playing reindeer games, the way in certain circles history and promotion and experience and collars are all put on the table like trophies. Men whipping out rulers, that's all it is. Will's got an ingrained resentment towards the sort of career-climbing one-percenters who see criminal justice as a means to their personal ends, mostly left-over class issues from his dirt poor youth, and in response he does his best not to be snooty about anything. ]

[ Two: he's no longer strictly part of the F.B.I. ]

[ The truth is, Will's leery of this little playdate for more reasons than because he isn't big on looking into the eyes of human beings. It's because Edgeworth asks questions, and he's concerned it's all somehow going to come out: his abilities, his instability, his imprisonment. ]

[ But it's a good idea, good for Salem, who already goes stir-crazy in their rooms once Winston's sick of humoring him. Will walks them both already — what else does he have to do? — but the company of another dog with an equally excitable temperament will hopefully help soothe the overly energetic Collie. ]

[ Salem's all black and white and gold and fluffy, pulling on the leash disobediently because he's not used to it being just him and Will — Winston was definitely the Alpha of his little dog-pack, back home, and they're better behaved around him. Will keeps a firm grip on the chain, but when Salem scent's Pess it's all he can do not to get his arm yanked off, and he has to approach Edgeworth and his dog at a brisk pace. ]

Hi.

[ The two dogs nose at each other in greeting: Will is more reserved, though he's more at ease in the simulation of nature with man's best friend at his side than he might be under other circumstances. ]

Will Graham, from the network.

[ He doesn't smile, watches the dogs instead of the other's reaction, but his tone is friendly enough. Mostly he seems tired, a little wan, but that's part for the course. ]

[Pess is a small and sturdy shiba inu, with a thick neck and bright eyes and a perpetually wagging tail; she starts dancing the moment she sees man and dog, leaping to the end of her leash and then back again. When she sniffs the new dog, she lets out little chuffs of joy. Edgeworth lets them get acquainted and listens to the man introduce himself.

He doesn't sound...hideously aloof, at least. Edgeworth is glad he's in a suit. A suit makes him look just a little bit less ridiculous, less laughable; it makes up somewhat for Edgeworth's age, and it makes up somewhat for his background, which is...far from provincial, far from modest, but certainly nothing in comparison to a career with the F.B.I.]

Miles Edgeworth.

[And he should naturally leave it there and keep conversation at a minimum. Yet for some reason, he feels compelled to continue - says - ]

My thanks for volunteering your time.

[And then he bends down and unclips Pess' leash from her collar. She dances forward immediately, shoving her nose against the collie's neck in an invitation to play.]

[ Will does the same, drops to a crouch to do so, gets an interested shiba in his face for his troubles but nudges her away with a gentle, flat palm in order to unclip Salem, scruff him behind the ears. His fur is soft, skull fragile under Will's fingertips, calming in the face of another in-person interaction. ]

[ Edgeworth isn't the first person he's socialized with — he hadn't totally avoided interaction when he'd arrived, and he'd met with Rose and David and Derek to collect samples of the human remains they'd found themselves possessing. But that's no more than he'd normally have to do on a case. Somehow, this feels different. ]

[ Will stands, but keeps his eyes on the dogs, shoulders hunched uncomfortably. ]

It's nothing. I'm sure this is all hard enough on them as it is.

[ He takes off his glasses, polishes them on the sleeve of his jumpsuit. ]

Edited (i have a lot of icons surely i can avoid using the same one twice in a row jfc i hate icons) 2013-08-24 17:09 (UTC)

[There's a single nod; he shoves his hands into his pockets. Edgeworth isn't good at reading body language. He is, in point of fact, quite bad at it - his greatest weakness as a lawyer, and the reason he spends the majority of his time poring over evidence rather than with examining witnesses. But for all that he's not cognizant of body language, he still recognizes it on a subconscious level; he sees that Graham is uncomfortable, and he responds in kind, turning away slightly.]

Pess has hardly flourished psychologically, that must be admitted; I suspect they feel the lack of sunlight no less than we do. But nor is she languishing.

[That's an understatement. Pess' joy is clear as she drops into the play position; as soon as Salem makes the slightest move, she goes rocketing across the garden, inviting a chase.

Edgeworth hesitates before making this suggestion, because of course this secret is not his to share. But so long as he doesn't go into detail, he cannot see any sin in mentioning to Graham:]

If you have difficulties, seek out Tyke. She's very good with dogs.

[ Unfortunately, Will is cognizant of body language. In fact, he echoes it without really being aware he's doing so, just as sometimes he starts to mimic a person's speech, couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. (Already, around Edgworth, he feels himself picking up pronouns he might have dropped, forgetting to contract.) From there, it's not much of a leap to drawing conclusions. ]

[ But it means there's something of a feedback loop, unfriendly to unfriendly, and he shifts so they're nearly shoulder to shoulder, watching Salem go racing after Pess. It's good, he supposes: the dogs are new to each other and this is public property. Nothing wrong with giving them his attention. ]

Tyke.

[ He repeats it, to make it clear he'll remember, though there's very little Will forgets. ]

I'll take it under consideration. Is she a veterinarian, may I ask?

Head of security.

[That response is terse enough, and he offers no other explanation.]

Unfortunately, we have no true veterinarians on board. Several doctors, indeed, though their professionalism is...

[His frown is immediate, and goes far beyond mere disapproval into something more personal, more...painful. He knows that the only appropriate emotion to feel towards his mentor is, if not hatred, then distance. But he'd seen the man's body after that hideously botched autopsy, and the sight was...

The corpse is still in cold storage. He still hasn't been able to take care of it.

The pause before he finishes his thought is awkwardly long, and he's cognizant of that fact; he self-consciously stares at the ground.]

Simon Tam. He's worthwhile. You can depend upon him.

[ Will's eyebrows raise slowly: first at the fact that Head of Security is a woman. It seems like a good sign for her capability, since he's estimated several hundred other people on this ship, and either they're all incompetent or she beats them out and then some. A lot of guys don't like to have a woman at the top of the hierarchy. Will makes a mental note to get in touch. ]

[ He stays bemused as he waits out that pause. ]

[ The name, though, that gets his attention. Simon or McCoy, Dexter had told him. You get what you pay for, and med staff work for free. He's already tucked that knowledge away, but he turns his head anyway, studying Miles without really meaning to. ]

You're not the first person to tell me so

[ It makes him wonder just what mishaps the other doctors here have had, that word of mouth recommendations are necessary. ]

Simon or McCoy. I've already made myself somewhat familiar with the medical practitioners, seeing as how they're going to be somewhat familiar with me.

[ The movement of his mouth is a grimace, not a smile, but it's hard to tell the difference with Will Graham. ]

[Edgeworth's startled by the strangeness of that statement, startled enough that he for a moment forgets his miserable brooding over that corpse, the unresolved threads of that nightmare those months ago...He looks up, his bows furrowed, his expression for once honest in its confusion and curiosity, not hooded or closed-off or anything of the sort.

He asks:]

Only inasmuch as you might be working with them, correct, Agent Graham?

[His gaze stays fixed on Will's, seeking out eye contact with him.]

[ He gets it, the eye contact, direct and slightly startled. ]

Special Investigator.

[ Which isn't remotely an answer to the question. He clarifies: ]

I'm not an agent. Most people just use Mr.

[ He's still deliberating whether he wants to be more explicit, how far down this rabbit-hole he wants to go. His illness is private, but this is a gated community and the medical staff are disreputable, it seems likely that playing cagey would come back to bite him in the ass. ]

[Edgeworth frowns, but gives a nod.]

As you prefer. Mr. Graham.

[Hardly out of the ordinary to be corrected, of course, and he hardly takes offense; he himself will snap at those who call him Miles, with few exceptions. What worries him, rather, is the lack of response. The evasion of his question.

Yet for all that he tries to foster one, Edgeworth doesn't actually have so very suspicious a mind. He hears Graham avoiding his question, and his worry is simply that Graham is ill, and that the condition might be dangerous to the man's life. Nevertheless, the tone of his challenge is quite firm, for all that what he feels is concern.]

You didn't answer my question, sir.

I'm aware, Mr. Edgeworth.

[ It's abrupt, biting, perhaps even icy — and then Will takes a deep breath and relents, looking away again, taking solace in the unbounded joy of the dogs. ]

Back home, I was undergoing treatment for later-stage encephalitis. That is, swelling of the brain. I'm hoping to successfully continue that treatment here, or else the effects would be... less than pleasant.

[Edgeworth's undisturbed by that tone, though. Instead, his focus is entirely on the second part of that sentence, and it's that he responds to: he turns towards Graham completely, and scowls, and speaks with a brittle voice - but the expression, the voice, don't spring from anger, or disapproval, though they look identical to what would be produced by either of those emotions; instead, they're rooted in a deep, almost painful, earnestness.]

I understand. What can be done to facilitate your treatment?

[ Miles Edgeworth may actually be the strangest person Will's met on this ship so far, and he's encountered Haymich trying to find the security cameras in the ceiling using a chair leg, and David Wong. ]

Medical has what I need. I'll simply have to keep taking it.

[ He winces: simply, really. ]

[There's another firm nod; that grim forthrightness doesn't fade in the least.]

Will you be incapacitated at any point? Or will you require any sort of rest time? If so, I can organize for someone to bring you meals.

Uh.

[ Will scrubs a hand over the scruff on his chin unhappily. ]

That won't, no. None of that — will be necessary.

[ Even if he did degenerate, he just hates being taken care of so much. ]

You can tell my neighbor to keep it down when I'm trying to sleep.

[ Trying and failing. Will huffs; he probably shouldn't sic Edgeworth on Sherlock, even if he thinks it would solve the current problem of his continued socialization with both of them. ]

No, no, I'm— don't do that. Don't do anything.

[Edgeworth, though, seems perfectly willing; he gives a nod and says:]

If it is keeping you from needed rest, and if you are reluctant to deal with him yourself, I am perfectly willing to do so. Who is your neighbor?

No, seriously, it's fine. I've already bothered him about it. It was just a joke.

[ It wasn't, at least not in the way where he meant it to be funny to anyone other than him, but he's worried Edgeworth's going to call up the numbers one away from Will's own and harass them. ]

[ Will knows of one surefire way to turn the conversation away from where-ever it is he doesn't want it to be. He's used it on Alana, he's used it on Jack, and he uses it now. ]

Feeling a little less intimidated by me?

[And that's effective. Edgeworth's mouth had been open for further protests, hyper-serious talk of security officer and no more than my duty and et cetera; that question throws him for a loop, throws him indeed enough that he stays like that a moment, mouth hanging open, looking - just for that moment - a bit flummoxed and a bit overwhelmed and a bit like a kicked dog himself.

Then he closes his mouth; the effect, at least, is mitigated. The dogs run by, Pess yapping in joy; she's unconcerned for her master's distress. As per usual.]

I'm - I am - not remotely intimidated by you. Sir.

Good.

[ He means it, even though he doesn't really believe Edgeworth. Will wants to be left alone, but not at the expense of hurting someone else deliberately, so he doesn't strive to discomfit others. Sometimes it just happens. He can be a little abrupt. ]

[ But he can also be discerning. And if they're going to continue to converse, Will would like to be the one asking the questions. ]

You've been with Security for over a year now. What did you do back home?

[Had he mentioned his term of service with security? He must have, he decides; they are few and far between who decide to search back through the records, who arrive here and investigate their shipmates. And Mr. Graham surely isn't one who would do that - or Edgeworth hopes desperately that he wouldn't do that. Because there is too much on the network about Edgeworth for his comfort.

No use dwelling on that now. Best to expend his energies on not looking nervous or ill-at-ease.]

I was a prosecutor, sir. [And then - giving an answer closer to the truth than he gave most others, less because of who Will was than because of his new desire to be more honest - ] Beginning my career with the Los Angeles District Attorney.

[ The number's an easy assumption. Edgeworth had introduced himself in his own post as important enough to be contacted with regards to Security issues, and had seemed to be recruiting. His number puts him at approximately fifteen months on-board, and he definitely seems like the sort of person who would have joined straight up, however rudimentary organization was back then. Edgeworth doesn't contradict it, so Will cements it as fact. ]

[ A lawyer, though. Beginning his career. Not exactly changing his mind about the capability of Security to do much more than what they do. ]

Hey, that's pretty good.

[ Because the LA DA, that doesn't exactly lack prestige. Will wonders if they could keep in touch, somehow. He'd have a lot more use for a lawyer back in Baltimore. ]

[ He doesn't take the risk of making that joke. ]

Lot of call for legal counsel onboard?

[Perhaps, logically, he ought to be offended at that comment. Pretty good could be interpreted as condescending, and certainly there was a time when he'd have interpreted it as condescension and bristled. Today, though, as ever lately, he simply doesn't have the energy for it, or perhaps simply not the pride; he accepts that with a slight nod.]

No, sir. Because of the small population here, we deal with transgressions on a case-by-case basis, rather than as per codified strictures.

[There's no ambiguity as to how Edgeworth feels about that lack of laws; his polite expression of a moment before becomes a scowl, and his voice is stiff.]

As such, I've directed my energies towards the administration of the security department.

Makes sense. Not everyone's going to come from a place where even the most watered down American law fits their mores.

[ Edgeworth doesn't sound pleased about it, and he can imagine why, but he can also see the benefit in individual trial, taking beliefs and circumstances better into consideration. ]

[ Still. He can't help but look directly at Edgeworth again, blunt and a little wry: ]

So you're changing career paths.

[ And now they're right back on the verge of the discussion they were having when Edgeworth asked him on this canine playdate. ]

[Edgeworth frowns in response to that amusement; his answer is firm and precise.]

I am taking on whatever duties I must in order to best serve the people here. Career has nothing to do with it, and if I were able to return home, I would at once return to the law.

[He pauses a moment, then adds:]

And I'll confess, sir, that I'm surprised to hear you say that. I would think someone of your background would have esteem for the law.

I do. But the law isn't static. And overregulation seems about as ineffective as having no order at all.

[ He shakes his head slowly, looking elsewhere again, maybe inward. Whatever duties he can to serve the people. Will strongly identifies with that sentiment, feels a moment of guilt, lets it go. ]

There might be better ways to minimize harm than Neighborhood Watch, but it's not in laying down commandments.

It's certainly not allowing the vicissitudes of personal judgment to creep into our official system, either.

[The intimidation actually is gone, now, but only because he's fired by passion. It shines in his expression - though, like so many other of his emotions, that passion just makes him look kind of angry.]

A code of law isn't about ease. And it's not about laying down commandments, as though we're some moral authority. It's about ensuring that the people are protected from us as much as they are from one another. Without the rule of law, we're ruled by man, by individual, who can dictate what he wishes from each situation. It's only by luck and collective hostility towards one another that we've not fallen under the sway of some shipwide tyrant.

Codes of law aren't drafted to enslave us. They're drafted to keep us free, to keep those in power in check.

[And then he remembers himself, and sets his jaw, and drops into a bow.]

I...This is wholly my personal opinion. My statements do not in any way reflect the policy of the security team as a whole.

[ Miles Edgeworth, you adorable piece of shit. ]

[ Will looks taken aback by his fervency, though it certainly provides him with food for thought. Tyranny was what he was thinking of when he commented on commandments: there just isn't the level of regulating bodies here to manage the management. The systems in place back home were self-perpetuating, sure, but it meant it was hard to start 'em up. Who would pick the laws? Who would enforce them? Who would be the ombudsman should that enforcement fail? And was a system even worth it when it only covered a couple of hundred people? ]

[ Regardless, he respects where Edgeworth's coming from pretty sincerely. If his first impression had been that of a petty flunky, someone with deep insecurities in their own position and a tendency to let the details get in the way of the scheme of things, he revises it now, to include this new information. ]

It's no problem. I'm not exactly going to go repeating what you've said.

[ It's interesting that he feels the need to clarify, though. Will has spent years avoiding the politics of the FBI as best as he can, but he knows the signs of a schism when he sees one. ]

So why don't they? I mean, why isn't there a code of law provided along with the welcome documents?

[The sensible thing to do, of course, would be to pretend he was simply playing devil's advocate when he said all those things - that he of course adheres to the party line, doesn't contradict Tyke in any way shape or form, et cetera, et cetera. People have little enough confidence in the security force even without knowing that the people on said force are irreparably fragmented in every aspect of their ideology. Yet to claim that would be to claim that he believed that the law was a tool of oppressors, that the virtues of the law were undercut by its flaws...And he just doesn't want to do that. He'd spent too many years already lying about his beliefs; he's done with it now.

So there's a brief unpleasant expression on his face (akin, grotesquely, to the expression displayed by a man in the throes of constipation) which clears the moment he decides to be true to his beliefs. And when he speaks in the next moment, it's more spontaneous, more genuine; his voice is less strangled, the register of his words less forced.]

Because more people on the ship think as you do than as I do. Not that that is saying much: you could take a vote as to whether or not we should steer away from some black hole we're pointed towards and struggle to come up with a majority. [And, with a defiant sort of pride:] And though you'll hear a great many complaints to the contrary from certain members of this community, we listen to people, and we don't force our wills on them.

Democracy's very rarely a united force.

[ but the other option is a kind of totalitarianism that edgeworth has just made clear isn't and won't be the standard. will nods. ]

Still. We're all in the same boat. That makes it hard, means anyone who wants to make something happen has to raise themselves up first, and that comes with a whole other set of risks.

[ who watches the watchmen. ]

Do you elect any politicians around here?

[The mild response to his little tirade calms him a bit; when he answers the next question, he's less impassioned. Which is good: he comes off less demented. A bit.]

No, sir. There are a few who attempted to stir people up and divide them into factions, after a fashion - and, indeed, there were some who followed them; in times when there is a lack of clarity, people look to the charismatic rather than the reasonable. Those people are largely gone, now, though, or have seen their support fade.

[ will digs his hands into his pockets, shakes his head. ]

That's a shame. Moses to Washington, if you want to put laws down you tend to need a leader.

Perhaps so.

[He grants this with a small nod of his head.]

But few civilizations are as small as ours. And few are as cognizant of single, uniting purposes.

[ will's eyebrows raise. ]

Didn't you just say getting people to unite on anything is a problem? I think traditionally, letting the people pick the leaders and the leaders pick the laws is how you overcome trying to wrangle a crowd.

[Point to you, Mr. Graham; he gives another nod.]

But bear in mind how altogether...forgive my crudeness - incestuous this place is. In a normal system, one can unite behind an individual for their ideas, their intellect. Here, where everyone knows everyone else, people for some reason seem to care more about who's friends with whom, who slighted whom. All the virtues of a good system seem negated by the idiocy of popularity games.

[ will gives a soft chuckle. ]

Preaching to the choir. You think the FBI isn't full of weasels and ladder-climbers? Behavioral Science has a good man, a genuinely good man behind it, but I even get it in my classes.

[ he shakes his head. in will's opinion all systems are like that, but the difference is... ]

Guess in space you can't just go somewhere to get away from it. I imagine it exacerbates tension, being cooped up, like they try to do for reality TV.

[ not that will watches big brother, but it's as psychologically interesting as the stanford prison experiment. ]

[A quick, unhappy nod - ]

Security has put out an official advisory not to go beyond the territory we patrol. Several who have done so have died. It means that we all are quite...concentrated.

[But he says that with an air of distraction; it's clear his mind is on something else. And, indeed, there's hardly any hesitation before he asks - ]

Sir, I thought that...My image was always that the FBI was above that sort of pettiness.

Yeah, image is pretty important.

[ will shrugs, uncomfortable. he was being honest, if a little bitter, but he doesn't like to complain for the sake of complaining. and he doesn't laugh at edgeworth, for sharing the ideal that the bureau puts in the effort to perpetuate. ]

It's a workplace, like any other. You have a serial killer, say. The cop who finds a body, he wants a promotion, so he wants it closed quick. But the scene rings a few bells. The FBI sends in some experts, maybe they're just scene management, forensics, they want to do their job. Their boss wants them to crack it on the evidence alone, but the Special Agent in Behavioral, he thinks there's a pattern that means they can catch the next guy in the act. His boss doesn't want to do the paperchase, but he'll take credit for taking such a fine Agent under his wing if it comes through. The board, though, they don't think there should be another body, not when the tabloids are making them look incompetent. The deny the use of a field team, and reassign the Agent, so he decides to work the case in his own time, just 'cause he thinks it's right. But the cop at the scene isn't being co-operative. Unfortunately a Senator's son gets kidnapped, so resources get diverted, while it's in the public eye.

[ he shrugs. ]

People step on each other's toes. It's what we do. Comes with not being a hive mind.

Certainly.

[But again, that answer is distracted - this time because he's too focused on Will himself, watching his face closely, a frown on his own lips. There are broader implications to that story - a miserable chain of hypocrisy and grandstanding that oughtn't be present at the highest investigatory agency in the country...But Edgeworth sets his feeling of unhappiness aside, instead focusing on establishing the facts of the matter.]

Is this a hypothetical situation, sir? The details are very specific.

[ will chuckles softly. ]

I've seen similar things happen — in a couple of those roles. But it's just an idea — broad strokes of motivation that come together to make one single design.

[ if there's anything he's good at, it's extrapolating out a hypothetical situation based on his knowledge of how people work and then speaking on it at length. ]

[And Edgeworth blinks at the sound of that quiet laugh - shifts slightly. Graham seems so...grim, generally speaking; he'll grant he's only been speaking to him a few minutes, but he's been consistently solemn. A show of mirth from him is strangely jarring, like a pale branch grafted onto a dark tree.]

Of course.

[He clears his throat a moment later, his brows gathered together.]

Are there no attempts to curtail this? I should think that few should be glad to see so noble an institution struggling with such base concerns.

There's preventative measures in place. And don't get me wrong, we get a lot of good people, people who just want to do their job the best they can regardless of the money or the commendation.

[ he doesn't speak boastfully — he wouldn't call himself a good person. though he does what he does because he has to, even at the expense of his peace of mind. ]

There are always going to be terrible people in the world.

[ he thinks of hannibal, his perfected outfit on the sheep, his unsettling eyes and clever hands, hands you'd trust with your life. he thinks of jack, pushing for results, pushing. ]

Law enforcement attracts sociopaths pretty regularly. Power attracts sociopaths, really.

But that's hardly -

[He's put up a defense of himself and his profession so many times before that this one that starts to come from his mouth is habitual, practiced, and spirited, just like all the others. Three words in, though, he falters, because he's never really heard that idea expressed before, never heard those words spoken like that. Every time before, when he'd defended his profession, he'd had a weight of knowledge behind him, a firm grasp on the goodness of all the prosecutors he'd studied. He'd had no counterexamples.

But that word, sociopath, is laid side-by-side with his memory of the prosecutor he'd emulated more than any other, and it fits. It fits too well.

He'd never thought of von Karma like that before. Even when he'd sat in holding, he had always been trying to understand what exactly the offense had been that had made his mentor kill his father, why von Karma had shown him such indescribable kindness thereafter, why the man had been so decent and good as to give Miles a home. How he could reconcile the man who had kept so many people safe, put away so many criminals, with the man who would take his dad's life. There had been so many conflicting, difficult strands that Miles couldn't put together, that had tormented him -

What if it's that simple? What if von Karma just went into the law not because he was a good man, but because he wanted power? What if he was just a sociopath?

All these thoughts strike him unbidden, from nowhere; he's stopped speaking, and doesn't resume for too long a time, staring at Graham like he's said something deeply profound - and deeply wrenching, because his expression is lost, miserable, sorrowful. It takes too many moments before he remembers himself; when he does, he looks away sharply, with a harsh jerk of his head.

He must look completely mad.]

That's...hardly - hardly common.

[His counterargument is weak. His voice is weak. He stares down at his feet a moment, then to cover up for his miserable embarrassment, his dizzy confusion, crouches and calls out to his dog, stretching out a hand - ]

Pess, Pess.

[ it's highly possible that the way edgeworth is visibly and suddenly overcome has a lot to do with will's concern for his physical health, later on: such an abruptness of emotion, his face gone pale, body rigid, it could almost be a stroke or a pain or some other illness. ]

[ but he also has the look of a man who has simply suffered a great fright. will isn't... he isn't sure how to handle it. he leaves the young man be. ]

It's more common than you'd think.

[ he murmurs, though will graham's world is riotous with evil, populated nearly wholly by people with minimal ethics or conscience to speak of, both committing crimes and catching them. he thinks of chilton, of freddie lounds. of hannibal. ]

[ but he can actually take social cues, especially ones so plainly spelled out for him, and he takes a few steps away from edgeworth to call his own dog, knowing he might have to chase salem a little. ]

[Pess is - now, like always - a calming presence; it takes a few moments to break away from her play with Salem, but when she does she comes to him and leans sweetly against his knees, after a moment putting her muddy paws up on his thigh in an attempt to lick his chin. He encircles her with his arms; she wriggles in happiness; he lets out a sigh, some of the panic from that monstrous epiphany leaking away from him.

It's a full minute after Graham's last comment that Edgeworth replies.]

Perhaps you're right.

[He doesn't really register how long it's been, how strange and awkward that is. Instead he just scratches behind Pess' ears, staring down at her big doggish smile, and is quiet another moment. Finally:]

I do want to thank you for agreeing to this. She seems much cheered.

Yeah.

[ will's still looking askance at him, but it's not as though he can cast stones in his own glass house of personality deficiencies and awkward pauses. he looks away instead, shifts, and then takes a few steps to call salem. ]

It's been good for them.

[ he drops into a crouch, braces himself for a lap full of wriggling collie. ]

We'll have to do it again sometime.

[Edgeworth nods, working his fingers under Pess' collar. He's relaxed visibly.]

Yes, sir. By your leave, perhaps we might establish something semi-regular?

[ by my leave will mouths to no-one, somewhere between amused and horrified. ]

Sure. Sure.

[ he wonders how offended edgeworth would be if he suggested trading off accompanying them. ]

[Edgeworth's looking down, though, so he misses that expression.]

Very well. I'll contact you regarding an arrangement once I've taken a look at my schedule.

who let the dogs out??

wow i totally lost this like a loser X( gives you capitals in apology

don't tell me what to do

wow fine huff

ugh me in a nutshell, fuck icons

ngl the reason i give myself such ambiguous defaults is because otherwise i'd never pick one

HAHAHA I actually know that, Mici told me about that once and I giggled

lmao my legacy

We will remember and treasure you forever also yes I can never freaking tell whether Will is smiling

all my happy icons double as pained grimaces

efficient use of space

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this is so old / late but i didn't want to leave it hanging

There is no such thing as old or late; there is just doubly-welcome

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God I am sorry as hell for this tag

NO DON'T BE

Okay then I'm not

good. .... i think.

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