[He stares down at Pess, a muscle working in his jaw. He isn't angry, at all, with her, obviously. If anything, he'd like to crouch down and pet her a bit more--never underestimate the comfort of a dog--but he ought not to need comfort. He's not a child. And last month, he was all right without Remus, he got through that all right, and he'd cried enough about it. He's still angry with himself for that.]

What were they thinking they'd do?

[He looks over at Edgeworth again, his jaw still tight.]

They got on the bridge, and then they were going to take over and, what, get us home? It doesn't matter. Nothing we do matters.