Home > Categories > Phoenix Wright > Sophisticated Fools

Rating: T13 - humour, romance - Posted: 05/8/2008 - Updated: 18/8/2008

Disclaimer: Characters property of Capcom; this is a non-profit derivative work.
Notes: un-betad. Can be set somewhere between the end of 2-4 and before 4-1, assuming Egdeworth is still in the country. No known spoilers, but I could be wrong. First attempt for this series = general suckage.

Summary: A 'small' wager with Franziska ends with Miles taking Phoenix to the opera. But there's a few things to do first, and a few things to learn along the way.


He was going to be late. There was no getting around. He was going to be late and Edgeworth was going to kill him.

"Damn late night twilight zone marathon just had to come on last night, didn't it?" Phoenix mumbled, studiously ignoring the fact that he was the one who chose to look at it.

Phoenix looked at his watch again, but it only reinforced what he already knew as the second hand ticked by. Swearing, the lawyer grabbed his coat, balancing on one foot as his pants hanging off the other. White shirt and tie were both undone; the only articles of clothing in any sense of order on Phoenix was his t-shirt and boxers.

And socks. He never forgot his socks.

"And just who the hell schedules a 'meeting' this early anyw--oomph!" Griping was cut off abruptly when Phoenix found himself unpleasantly introduced to the taste of his carpet. At that point Nick figured out three things. One, it was going to be a rotten day. Two, Maya obviously didn't understand the concept of picking up after Pearl. Three, he needed to shampoo the carpet, seriously.

"I hate my life."

It took a few to untangle himself before Phoenix got back to his feet. Taking a slow breath and counting backwards from ten, he stopped long enough to finish dressing correctly, keeping an eye out for any more reminders of Maya and Pearl's last visit.

"And since when has my place become a toy storage area, anyway? I have enough of my own clutter to worry about." A quick glance at his watch sent Phoenix scurrying again. If he were extremely lucky, skipped breakfast, and ignored a few crossing signs, he might catch the next bus and only be somewhat late compared to ridiculously late.

Then he'd find some way to make Miles buy him breakfast to make up for having to drag himself out at this hour of the morning in the first place.

~~~

"You're late."

Phoenix groaned, but was hardly surprised by neither the obvious statement nor the slight condescending tone it was delivered in. "The defence would like to remind the prosecution that one, I don't have a car. Two, I don't drive. Three, I didn't want to meet this early anyway. And four, I have no say on when the trains decide to run a length of cars so long I was half expecting to see my own descendants waving at me by the time it got to the caboose." That wasn't exactly an exaggeration on Phoenix's part, as the train had taken nearly an hour and backed up traffic for quite a ways behind the bus he had caught. Not that he was expecting any sympathy from Edgeworth about it, but damned if he wouldn't state his case on the matter.

As the defence attorney predicted, Edgeworth only snorted in response. "If you were having that much trouble, you should have called and informed me."

"Says the man who stated in no uncertain terms how it was too far out to pick me up, and to meet at the office to expedite things," Nick complained. "And I should add I skipped breakfast to make this mystery meeting of yours, which by the way you still haven't told me was about." Unfortunately, Phoenix realised the flaw in his argument the moment Edgeworth raised his eyebrow, and quickly cut him off. "I know, I know, I was late and was just making excuses and haven't given you a chance to speak, much less--"

"If admitting you're wrong is your way of convincing me to buy you breakfast, you can save your breath, Wright." Edgeworth held up a hand at the weary glare he received. "I'm just saying it's a waste of time. I'll buy it solely because your arguments become even more idiotic when your blood sugar is low."

Apropos of nothing, Phoenix managed his best Oliver Twist impersonation. "Please, Sir, I want some more." This had the desired effect of finally cracking his friend and rival's stone demeanour as Edgeworth chuckled softly.

"Your Dickens is deplorable." He turned, gesturing for Phoenix to follow. Half expecting Edgeworth to head towards the Prosecutor's office, Phoenix was confused to see they were instead walking towards the parking lot.

"Um, weren't we supposed to have a meeting? That is why I woke up so early, right?"

Edgeworth glanced over at the other. "I never stated the location as I recall."

"Well, no," Phoenix admitted, "but meetings are supposed to be in offices, except when meeting a client who's held in detention, anyway."

"That's an assumption, and you know how dangerous those are."

'I should, least around you. ' Phoenix silently conceded the point, only because saying it out loud would only get him that irritating smirk Edgeworth was known for, and he wasn't in the mood just yet. "Fine, then where is this 'meeting' going to be, and when can we pencil breakfast into the equation?"

The prosecutor sighed, leaving Phoenix to wonder why he would make such a put-upon noise. "We may as well get breakfast now," Edgeworth replied as they reached his car. He quickly unlocked it, motioning for Phoenix to get in. "I don't want you to arrive at this meeting in a foul mood."

"Then you should have scheduled it for later." Phoenix couldn't help the peevish note creeping into his voice. The early morning rush, bus trip, lack of food, and Edgeworth's cryptic attitude about this mysterious meeting were starting to get to him. "And you didn't answer the first question. Where--"

"I will explain everything after you eat. Hopefully it will make you a bit more amenable to the situation."

Something about that tone and the faint smirk on Edgeworth's lips left Phoenix with an impending sense of utter doom. "I don't like the way that sounds," he admitted while they pulled out of the parking lot. Seeing the smirk grow on the prosecutor's lips made it even worse. "What is this meeting about, anyway?"

"Wright, I assure you, all your questions will be answered after we eat. For now, let me concentrate on driving so I don't wrap us around a telephone pole."

He got the hint, but Phoenix wasn't reassured. "Am I going to like those answers is what I'm worried about."

Edgeworth only gave the other attorney a mild glance. "That depends on how cooperative you are."

~~~

Breakfast was a surprisingly nice affair for once, least as far as Phoenix was concerned. Miles had taken him to one of the quaint cafes he normally went to, (the kind way out of Nick's price range), and even took care of the tab. The gesture made Phoenix suspicious until Edgeworth explained it away as an apology for making him get up so early. Such generosity from the prosecutor still seemed strange, but Phoenix was willing to accept it. Besides, he couldn't really complain. The food was delicious, more so because it wasn't burgers again, plus he didn't have to guard his plate the way he would when eating when Maya. An added bonus was he actually managed a conversation with Miles that didn't resort to their usual snipe fest, and the morning was making a decided turnabout.

That alone should have clued Phoenix to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

They made their way back to the car, with Phoenix a lot more relaxed after a nice meal. He settled in after a stretch, still savouring the amiable break.

"I feel much better. Thanks, Edgeworth. I'll return the favour, if you don't mind something a bit more wallet friendly."

"I'll keep that in mind." Miles started the car and had them back in traffic in a few minutes. "But really, it's not necessary. I only wanted to make sure your mood was improved from earlier."

"Hmm." Phoenix didn't give the statement much thought, content to gaze out the window at the surrounding traffic and urban landmarks for a time before he spoke again. "I guess we're off to this meeting now? Which you still haven't told me a thing about."

"Yes, we are, and you'll find out when we get there," came the reply. "Now let me drive, as the telephone pole is still an option in this traffic."

Phoenix knew he should probably press the matter. If nothing else he could argue that Edgeworth said he'd tell him after they'd eaten, which was now a true statement of facts. However, he was simply too comfortable and for once not curious enough to bother trying. Something he'd later admit to regretting on that particular day.

So instead he sat back and let the other man drive, lightly dozing and not thinking about their destination until some time later when he woke up enough to notice they were in one of the upscale shopping districts. That by itself was strange enough. Seeing Miles pulling into the lot for a very chic and no doubt expensive men's clothing shop finally kicked Nick's natural curiosity back in motion.

"What, need another pink--" Phoenix hid a grin at the glare Edgeworth shot him, "--sorry, another rich magenta suit for this meeting? I figured you'd have a few dozen in your closet for special occasions."

"No, I don't need another suit," Edgeworth grumbled, ignoring the last barb. "I have enough, plus I have a tuxedo. You, however, do not."

'Uh-oh. ' "No, I don't. I don't need one, unless court's become a black-tie event." Phoenix managed a small grin then. "If that's that case, I object, and I hold the prosecution responsible," he said, earning him yet another of many raised brow looks Edgeworth seemed so fond of shooting at his courtroom rival.

"Why would I be held responsible for that?" he asked, inwardly marvelling at Phoenix's unique 'not logic'.

"Because I just know you'd have something to do with it if that ever happened." However, after thinking on it for a moment, Phoenix's expression grew fearful. "You didn't make it a black-tie event, did you?"

"Don't be an idiot, Wright." Edgeworth paused long enough to pull into a parking space and kill the engine. "Even if I could, imagine someone like Gumshoe trying to keep a tuxedo on straight." Getting out the car, he took a deep breath and braced for the reaction as he began to reveal his true motives. "And we're here because cheap blue suits are not appropriate to the opera."

"Hey now, my suit isn't cheap, I--" The initial annoyance at having his clothes insulted faded as Phoenix registered the rest of what Miles had said. "O-opera! What does the opera have to do with anything?" he sputtered while getting out the car himself.

"That's where we're going tonight. And if you don't hurry, we'll be late with our meeting with Arnaud."

"Are-who?"

Edgeworth just shook his head and grabbed Phoenix by the arm to get him moving. "Arnaud, and he is the proprietor of the shop we are going to, and has been gracious enough to agree to overseeing your fitting personally."

The befuddled defence attorney was halfway to the shop doors before everything clicked in place. He immediately started pulling in the opposite direction of what he now viewed as his own personal hell. "Oh god no! No way, Miles! I am not going in there and letting you and this Arnie guy stick me in anything! Not happening!"

'Well, we got further than I expected, ' Edgeworth thought. He dug his heels in to keep Phoenix from jerking away from him. "I told you, cheap blue suits--"

"And who said I wanted to go to the opera anyway?" Phoenix tried vainly to break the prosecutor's grip, swearing softly at the steel hold on his arm. "I'm not opera material."

"Oh? Weren't you an art major before switching to law?"

That pulled Nick up short. He was sure he'd never mentioned his previous major in any of the letters he used to write to Miles when he was younger. "How did--when did you find that out, exactly?"

"That's irrelevant. The point is you were, and I also know you a few major roles in some of the theatre classes you took, and had a fine arts minor focus in painting."

Nick was even more confused than before. "Just how did you find all of that out?" He needed to know now as it was creepy to imagine how much of his life Miles might have learned about during what Nick now dubbed the 'von Karma years'.

"Still irrelevant," Edgeworth said, though making use of Phoenix's confusion to pull him closer to the shop. "I admit to some surprise when I found out. More when your acting was given such high praise. Although in retrospect, perhaps I shouldn't be too shocked. You certainly bring a lot of drama into the courtroom, after all."

"Now just a minute--!" Unfortunately for Phoenix, his protest was again cut off when he realised that they had almost reached the door of the shop, causing him to grab the nearest thing to stop their forward progress. Of course later he'd agree that clinging to the lamppost like a koala was very silly looking, but at the time his sense of pride, fashion, and fear of whatever suit Edgeworth was planning on sticking him in made him ignore the embarrassment factor as he hung on. "And stop it! I'm not going in there, darn it!"

Edgeworth sighed and turned to try and pry Phoenix away from the post. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look right now?" 'And I probably look equally foolish trying to get a grown man off of a lamppost. Someone should have warned me it was going to be one of those days.'

"And it's probably not half as ridiculous as I'll look after you and this Arnie guy--"

"Arnaud."

"--stick me in some froufrou tux to go to something I probably won't understand anyway! And why take me? Why not Franziska, sounds like something right up her alley, anyway."

Edgeworth stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose. He doubted if Phoenix would appreciate to learn that Franziska was partly responsible for why he was even bothering with any of this. They'd gotten into a mild argument when she caught him watching one of Phoenix's college performances, (something he planned to conveniently forget to mention to Nick himself). He couldn't scoff off the uncharacteristic presence Wright had on stage as easily as Franziska, which led to a debate that culminated into a bet.

"That man doesn't have a sophisticated bone in his foolish body. I dare even you to try and prove me wrong."

Miles showed both his ego and his own 'foolishness' by accepting the challenge when the younger prosecutor was willing to go so far as to pay for the tickets herself. All of which led to him standing in front of a clothing store trying to pry Phoenix off of the post. As much as he hated to admit defeat to anything, Phoenix was proving Franziska's case quite well at the moment.

'And with my luck, he'd likely agree with her if I told him any of this. If he had a crumb of spitefulness I could use that, but he's too damn honest and sincere for his own good.'

However, there was something Miles knew he could use against both Phoenix and Franziska. Ever since the Deauxnim case, he noticed the two had a strange sort of jealous rivalry going on concerning him. Actually, Franziska was the jealous one since many times Miles did seem to prefer talking to Phoenix. Phoenix just seemed oddly surprised whenever his company was chosen over hers, and thus became a bit more accommodating. Edgeworth himself was not above using these known quirks to his advantage.

"If you must know," he started slowly, "I was given two tickets by a colleague, I don't want one to go to waste, and you were the first person I thought of. Given your artistic background, I felt you could appreciate it more than Franz."

As Edgeworth hoped, that got Nick's attention. He looked genuinely amazed to hear that, which Miles knew was likely sincere on Phoenix's part.

"Really? I'd have thought you'd want to take Franziska with you."

"As I said," the prosecutor began, carefully unclasping Phoenix's hands from the post while he had the defence attorney's attention, "I thought you could appreciate it more. Franz usually complains that it is a foolish waste of time prior to going, and is only respectfully silent during the acts. And she's not one for idle discussions about it afterwards."

"Geez, Miles. Does that lady do anything for fun besides hitting people with that stupid whip of hers?" Phoenix wondered.

"I'm sure she has some hobbies. But we both decided some time ago that our hobbies were only to be shared on a 'need to know' basis, and so far, I've had no reason to want to know what Franz's hobbies are."

"You have a point." Phoenix was silent for a moment as he pondered the info. Edgeworth said nothing, trying instead to subtly remove Phoenix's hold off the lamppost. He almost made it when Phoenix grip tightened as another argument came to him. "But I don't know anything about opera! Closest I ever came to an opera was when we did "Tommy" by The Who. Besides, aren't they usually sung in French or Italian? I wouldn't even understand a word being sung, if I could even make out any words to begin with."

'Damn, almost had him off that thing.' Miles bit down another sigh, feeling he was doing far to much as he tried to reassure his rival. "Yes, it's usually sung in a different language, and I admit my Italian is horrible. However, the program books always include an act synopsis to let you follow the story. And I can help fill in the gaps."

"Really?"

"On my honour."

Phoenix thought for a moment, his grip loosening a tad. "And you won't let me do anything to embarrass myself, right?"

'Considering you'd likely embarrass me as well, I suppose I'd better try at the very least.' Edgeworth cleared his throat. "I'll do my level best, I assure you." Tired of waiting any longer, Edgeworth used a sure-fire trump card and added, "By the way, I thought your Tommy was quite well played, if slightly emotional."

Phoenix's jaw nearly rolled down the street as he gaped at the prosecutor. "Ho--when--how did you--" In his confusion, his grip went lax, which was the opening Edgeworth was waiting for. He quickly yanked Phoenix off the post and hauled him straight through the doors of the clothing store while Nick's brain was still trying to figure out just how Miles knew about that.

"When the heck did you see me perform—hey!"

Edgeworth simply ignored Phoenix now that he had the man inside the shop. Instead he looked around until he spotted the person he was looking for, and calmly dragged a protesting Wright along with him. A few feet away a thin but distinguished man was waiting to greet them. He stood a few centimetres shorter than either attorney, hair greying at the temples, and a tailor's tape hanging from around his neck. Edgeworth walked over, inclining his head by way of greeting.

"Bonjour, Arnaud. My apologies for arriving so late--"

"Ah, Monsieur Edgeworth. It is no trouble at all. I know how difficult your schedule can be." Arnaud paused long enough to take in the still muttering Wright before looking back at Edgeworth, the question hanging silently in the air. Rolling his eyes and knowing his options were limited, Edgeworth took the direct yet still legal approach and just clamped a hand over Phoenix's mouth to silence the diatribe.

"I'm afraid my colleague had a bad morning, which is why we're so late." Edgeworth removed his hand only after a none-too-gentle prod into Phoenix's back to get him to be quiet and behave. "Arnaud, I'd like you to meet, and hopefully help, Mr. Phoenix Wright, defence attorney."

Phoenix fired a mild glare over at Edgeworth, but was soon distracted when he felt his hand enveloped in a somewhat enthusiastic handshake.

"Ah, Monsieur Wright! Now I recognise you. I have heard many good things about you." Arnaud's gaze became critical however as he stepped back to take a more thorough look at Phoenix. "And Monsieur Edgeworth has spoken highly or you as well, though I now understand some of his comments regarding your style."

Nick himself didn't know if he should be happy (and embarrassed) to discover that Edgeworth had actually said something good about him to someone else, or annoyed that he was also likely complaining about Nick's fashion sense at the same time. 'And I thought Maya was a gossip.' Clearing his throat, Phoenix was about to defend his clothing choices, but Arnaud was already cutting him off.

"It is too much blue. True, it can bring out one's eyes, but it can detract as well. And the tie, it is not quite as red as you might think." Arnaud was now walking slowly around Phoenix, occasionally lifting one of Nick's arms or taking a random measurement. "But still the red fights, demands too much attention. The fit is not horrible, true, but there is no solidity. I see no strength when I look at this." Completing his circuit, Arnaud whipped out a small notepad, already jotting down notes. "Ah, but I have many ideas to help. A week and I'm sure I can produce a sterling selection for Monsieur Wright."

'Selection? I thought this was just about a tux, which I don't want or need anyway!' Phoenix swallowed as he shot a helpless look at Edgeworth, not knowing how to get out of this particular scene himself, and blaming the prosecutor for sticking Nick in the middle of it anyway. Fortunately, Edgeworth was feeling merciful for once as he cleared his throat to get Arnaud's attention.

"While I'm sure your choices would be excellent, Arnaud, I was hoping you could help my colleague find suitable attire for tonight."

Arnaud looked thoughtful for a moment before his expression brightens. "Ah yes, you are going to see Il campiello, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, and as I've told Wright, cheap blue suits simply won't do."

Phoenix by this time was feeling painfully far out from his comfort zone. He didn't like being talked over, and Edgeworth's jibe at his suit pricked at him a little more than usual. "For the last time, my suit is not cheap," he nearly growled.

Edgeworth had a retort at the rest, but Arnaud managed to avert another round of sniping with a surprising air of diplomacy. "Be that as it may, it does not flatter your strength, Monsieur Wright. But for now, we will have you fitted properly for your engagement tonight. This way, svp." Arnaud gestured before taking point, leaving Edgeworth to drag an unhappy Nick along with them.

"You don't have to drag me around like a kid, you know," Nick grumbled.

"Yes I do, because I'm certain if I let you go, you'd run out the store and catch the next bus anywhere just to get away."

Phoenix couldn't help the small flush staining his cheeks as he'd been thinking of doing just that. 'Is the man a telepath now or what?' He knew better than to try and deny it; Phoenix could bluff his way through court and maybe a good game of cards, but that was about it. By the time he could manage to think of a decent argument, they were already at a fitting room.

"Here we are. Monsieur Wright, if you would please?"

Phoenix looked puzzled for a moment until Edgeworth motioned for him to lift his arms. Soon as he did, Arnaud became a mini whirlwind of tape and notes. He was very efficient and had the measurements after a few minutes.

"Ah, perfect. It is convenient; your measurements are not too different from Monsieur Edgeworth's, so it will not take very long at all."

'That's not what I want to hear, honestly. Oh gods, if he tries to stick me something Miles would wear, I'm walking out and I don't care what Edgeworth says about it.' Phoenix could only watch as Arnaud called for an assistant and disappeared into some room hidden among the racks. Once the tailor was out of sight, he immediately turned to Edgeworth, who was expecting a reaction soon as they were alone.

"Miles! Dammit, I can get my own tux."

Edgeworth's expression became slightly bemused at that. "You can afford a tuxedo?"

"Heck no! I'd just go rent one," Phoenix admitted. "But that's beside the point. Your tastes aren't mine, you know!"

A mild snort answered the obvious declaration. "It might be an improvement if they were." Edgeworth jerked a second after that when Phoenix grabbed him by the shoulders to give the prosecutor a light shake.

"I'm serious. Maybe you can pull off the ruffles and things, but I can't. It's bad enough I'm even going to see this… that… um, what was it called again?"

"Il campiello, or 'The Little Square'. It was done by Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, adapted from a play by Carlo Goldoni." Edgeworth trailed off when he noticed the blue eyes glazing over. 'Too much information, I suppose.'

Phoenix shook his head. "Miles, since you seem to know so much about my college years, you know it probably doesn't make flicker when compared to yours. So even with some of the art and theatre classes I took, I still have no idea about anything you just said. That also means I won't have a clue about this opera, which points to better than average odds that I am going to royally screw up somehow!" His voice nearly cracked at the end, warning Edgeworth that his rival-come-friend was skirting the edge of a full blown panic attack. "And there is no way in the world I'm gonna be able to afford whatever he brings out here, and that's even if I'd want to wear it. So not only will I screw up, but I'll look like an even bigger idiot when I do!"

Edgeworth knew he had to calm Phoenix down when it seemed he might start hyperventilating. He gripped Phoenix by the upper arms, his shake a bit more firm to get the attorney's attention.

"Wright, calm down! Just breathe deeply and calm down." Silently Edgeworth had to marvel at the genetics that could let Wright keep a (relatively) cool head during an intense session in court, yet cause him to nearly break into hysterics at the thought of something as simple as the opera. "Just look at me and breathe… breathe…" He waited a few more until Phoenix appeared to be back under some control before continuing. "Now listen, there is nothing to worry about. If you were Butz, maybe I'd have some cause for concern--" at receiving one of those infamous raised brow looks from Phoenix of all people, Edgeworth smirked and revised, "--okay, more than some cause, I admit. However, I know you can sit still and be quiet for an extended period of time. That's all you'll have to do, plus applaud when everyone else does, understand?"

Sit still, be quiet, and clap. It sounded simple, too simple if Phoenix thought about it. But then again, he'd gone to many law-oriented seminars where he had to do the exact same thing. The only difference should be the tux, which he was trying very hard not to think about at the moment.

"Just be quiet and clap, that's all I'll have to do?"

Edgeworth nodded. "That's absolutely it, I promise you."

"Okay, I can do that. Sure, should be easy." Phoenix took a deep breath and slowly released his grip on Edgeworth, flushing a little as he realised how silly it was to have a panic attack over it. "Um, sorry about freaking out like that."

Seeing Phoenix relax, Edgeworth lowered his hands as well. "It was a little surprising," he admitted. In truth he would have expected something like that from Larry, though it probably would have been ten times more melodramatic and included a bucket of tears. Phoenix's sudden anxiety was tame in comparison, but still rather unexpected given the source.

A chagrined smile was Phoenix's only answer, not feeling up to discussing his sudden case of nerves. Besides, there was still one other problem looming over him. "Okay, the opera might not be so bad, but there's still the tux. I don't own one for a reason."

"Because you can't afford it?" the prosecutor offered dryly.

"Exactly! And maybe you can pull off a cravat with a thousand and one ruffles, but I'll look like an idiot."

"And did it ever occur to you," Edgeworth cut it, ignoring the remark about the ruffles, "that I might be willing to simply pay for this myself?" He quickly held up a hand as he could just see the objection forming on Nick's lips. "It's not charity, nor am I doing it just to maintain my own social standings, which are probably a lot less than what you give justice to. Just suffice it to say that even I am capable of a kind gesture with no strings attached. Renting a tuxedo is a waste of time and money. This way should the need ever arise you'll have one at the ready instead of having to go find a rental shop."

Phoenix gave it some thought. He couldn't find any fault with the logic (for once), and it seemed to be nothing more than a friendly if overly expensive gesture on Edgeworth's part. But that still left the other problem. Phoenix was about to make another argument when he was cut off by Edgeworth covering his eyes with one hand, and using the other to hold the defence attorney in place. "Wha--"

"Ah, Arnaud, your selections are truly unique, but perhaps a simpler style would be more suitable for Wright to play up his own physical aesthetics?"

And Phoenix knew that whatever Arnaud was holding up behind him was something he did not want to see, let alone wear. He didn't say anything as he let Edgeworth continue to block his vision, almost grateful in fact for not being able to see whatever ruffle-filled nightmare Arnaud had presented.

'I hate my life.'

~~~

It took a total of three hours before the two attorneys finally made it out of the clothing store. Three hours of Edgeworth impressing upon Arnaud that what might work for Edgeworth himself did not necessarily work for Wright. Three hours of constantly convincing an uncharacteristically nervous defence lawyer that there was nothing to worry about. Three hours of making sure said lawyer didn't run out the shop screaming on the few occasions Edgeworth had been too slow to keep him from seeing another of Arnaud's selection. Edgeworth was surprised at how mild the throbbing at his temples actually was when all was said and done. The prosecutor was blaming that on the shock he'd experienced when Phoenix had been presented to him for approval in an ensemble that didn't send him running for the hills.

'It should be illegal for someone as unstylish as Wright to look that good in a tuxedo. And if it were, I'd prosecute him to the fullest extent for making me look like an idiot.'

Not that either Phoenix or Arnaud had noticed the slack-jawed look that came over Edgeworth when Phoenix first stepped out of the changing room. He'd been busy fiddling with a button on the sleeve while Arnaud was making sure of some final measurements, giving Miles a few minutes to take in the full appearance of the man standing in front of him. Miles was lucky he was already sitting down at the time, as the shock might have caused his knees to buckle.

This was most certainly not the Phoenix Wright who had walked into the room just minutes before. That man was riddled with anxiety over possibly committing some social faux pas or just looking ridiculous in clothes he wasn't accustomed to. This person exuded a smooth aura that almost, almost made Miles envious. The entire piece was simple yet elegant lines as Miles recognised it as a Mirage Black from Jean Yves. This was mildly surprising as he knew how Arnaud felt about that particular line, having been victim to the tailor's lamenting on more than one occasion. Right then, Edgeworth really couldn't find any fault with it. Arnaud kept everything to a basic black, which really made the blue of Phoenix's eyes stand out. The prosecutor had to ruthlessly squash several clichéd lines about such a shade of blue before they could take root in his mind. Arnaud still managed to get a cravat around Phoenix's neck, though there wasn't a single ruffle to it, thankfully. Even those damn spikes looked appropriate, making Edgeworth question his sanity as he continued his silent inspection. But the overall look was nearly perfect, and whether it was the clothes themselves or Phoenix just putting some of those theatre classes to good use, the attorney now had a presence that matched.

Then Nick looked up from his sleeve to catch Edgeworth staring at him. There wasn't even time to try and mutter an excuse for being caught in the act as Phoenix only smiled and it took Miles several moments to convince himself that the unsettled feeling in his stomach was just from eating breakfast too fast.

He almost believed it.

"So tell me the truth," Nick asked, obviously still a bit unsure about it. "I look silly, right?"

'No, you in those blue suits is closer to silly than what I'm looking at now. I'm usually a better judge of character, so why did I never notice this side to him before?' Edgeworth mentally jerked himself out of his shock and simply offered a nod, which was also effective in covering the mild blush that threatened to stain his cheeks.

"Not silly at all. Actually… you look quite nice. It suits you."

"You really think so?" Phoenix twisted slightly to show off more of the back; Edgeworth made a note to see his doctor to get the sudden tightening in his throat checked out. "I kinda feel like a kid playing dress-up in their parents' clothes. You sure I won't embarrass you with being seen next to me?"

"Embarrassed? Certainly not. Trust me, you'll look like you belong there." Miles didn't add that being seen with this Phoenix might actually raise his own social standings, not that such things mattered to him. There was only one other person Edgeworth wouldn't mind seeing this transformed Wright. 'From this alone I could get Franz to eat crow.'

"Well, if you're sure." Phoenix held his arms out at Arnaud's insistence, the tailor bending slightly to take final measurements for alterations.

"Normally I wouldn't think of letting anyone leave my shop in one of these, but even I must admit defeat as I look at Monsieur Wright now. I always wondered why I let it stay, but I am happy I did." Arnaud straightens and turns to Edgeworth with a smile. "But how does Monsieur Edgeworth feel?"

"I think it is an excellent choice, Arnaud." Finally Miles felt steady enough to stand, allowing his attention to drift just to avoid staring at Phoenix. "When can we return to pick it up?"

"As said, it will not take long as Monsieur Edgeworth and Monsieur Wright have similar body types."

'Which if he were sticking to things in my size would explain all the previous selections we had to veto.' Edgeworth kept that to himself, instead saying, "Very well. I have a few errands to run, so we'll return in approximately two hours."

"Perfect, Monsieur. It is more than enough time, and I will attend to the alterations personally."

"Very good." Edgeworth fell silent as Phoenix went into the changing room to get back into his familiar blue suit. Unfortunately, he didn't close the door completely, and Edgeworth turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of what had been hiding under the suit.

'He's… more fit than I would have thought.'

On the rare occasions when Miles bothered to think about it, he had always assumed Phoenix was of average health, not too large but not exactly defined. However, the body he just saw was very much defined in ways the prosecutor would have never imagined.

'How? He can't afford a gym membership--wait, he's always running for a bus or riding his bike. That must be it.' Yet Edgeworth had a hard time chasing the image out of his head even after finding a rational explanation for it. It didn't help when a small scuffle caused him to turn his head again, this time to get flashed a more revealing view than before. This time the view also imparted a bit of previously unknown trivia about Phoenix that he hadn't known or even thought about before.

'Black boxer briefs… very form fitting boxer briefs… that ride a bit low…'

Were he anywhere else, preferably alone, Edgeworth would have physically hit himself to get his mind away from the increasingly incult train of thought it seemed determined to go on. But he was stuck in a high fashion clothing store, and such actions would get him a weird look from some of the staff and other customers, including Phoenix. He settled for gritting his teeth and mentally reciting various law-related Latin terminologies to try and keep his imagination from going wild. The matter wasn't helped when Phoenix came out still buttoning his shirt up, unaware of the small peek of skin he unwittingly offered just below his neck.

"Auribus teneo lupum. Cave Wright[1]," he muttered. Poor Phoenix didn't get a chance to get his tie and jacket back on as Edgeworth just grabbed him by the arm and headed for the door, calling back for Arnaud to charge it to his account.

"H-hey, Miles, hold up!"

Phoenix barely got his feet under him as he was pulled back to the prosecutor's car. Once there, Edgeworth unlocked both doors before getting in and letting his head thump lightly against the steering wheel.

"Um, you okay, Miles?"

"Headache," he grumbled, which was true enough. Trying to reign in his suddenly inappropriate speculations and licentious notions under control was causing a headache to form. That of course wasn't the actual problem, but it was all Edgeworth was willing to say on the matter.

Nick hummed a sympathetic note. "I can see why. That's why I hate shopping, except for online maybe. You should have said something sooner so we could have gotten out of there quicker."

'Considering you're the main cause of my headache, though…' Edgeworth didn't comment nor say that last bit out loud. The logical part of his mind chastised him that it really wasn't Phoenix's fault for his brain going down uncharted paths. The unreasonable part still blamed the man for supply him with a cause, though. Edgeworth settled on a scowl as he turned on the engine and quickly pulled out of the parking lot, easily guiding them back into midday traffic. Phoenix offered to buy him some painkillers if he felt like stopping off somewhere, but Edgeworth just waved the offer on, saying it would fade on its own.

However, thirty minutes later and the throbbing still there, Edgeworth was beginning to think taking Phoenix up on his offer might not be such a bad thing. He only hoped the second visit to the shop later would be easier than the first.

"Hey, Miles, can we stop in there for a second? I need to get something."

'And since when did he start using my given name?' Edgeworth looked at where Phoenix was pointing and resisted the urge to turn up his nose. "What do you need out of a liquor store? If it's for alcohol, forget it. You really would do something embarrassing if I let you drink."

"Miles, I'm shocked," Nick exclaimed, laying a hand over his heart for melodramatic emphasis. "First, I don't drink like that. Second, there's more than alcohol in a liquor store."

Having never actually been in one, the prosecutor didn't have a ready argument for that. And based on what he'd heard from others, Edgeworth only knew of one other thing a person would buy in a liquor store. Immediately his treacherous brain travelled further down those coarse paths he was trying to avoid.

"…I don't think you'll be needing that, either," he grumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing." Edgeworth decided to just avoid further discussion as he pulled into the store's lot. "There, just hurry up."

"Thanks, will only take a minute!" Nick barely let Miles turn off the engine before hopping out the car and into the store. His curiosity almost made Miles get out and follow, but it wouldn't do to be seen in such an establishment. And he was certain he didn't want to know what Phoenix was buying. Which of course meant his brain was all too willing to supply not only speculations of 'what', but also 'why', which each new theory more colourful than the last. He was just getting to one involving heavy chains, and hating himself for it, when Phoenix suddenly appeared and got back into the car, setting a small paper back right in Miles' lap.

"There you go." Nick settled back into the passenger seat, missing the confused expression on Edgeworth's face. By this time, his ever unscrupulous imagination had Miles all but convinced of what Phoenix was buying, though he didn't know what for. So he was bewildered at being the recipient of the bag.

'What makes him think I need any of those?' Dark grey eyes were still staring at the bag when Nick finally noticed that Miles hadn't made a move towards it.

"Oh come on, Miles. Yes, I know it's not one of your usual places to shop, but those will help your headache just as good as anything you probably pay three times as much on. And water is water, they just put fancy labels on it and charge people more by making them think it's natural spring or something."

"Wha--?" Curiosity winning out, Miles finally looked in the bag and found, to his silent mortification, painkillers and a bottle of water. 'He got these for me?'

A little voice in his head that sounded very much like Franziska berated Miles for letting his imagination get away from him. He cleared his throat, hoping Phoenix wouldn't notice the mild blush, and grateful that the man would never know what he'd been thinking earlier.

"Th-thank you, Wright." Then he noticed a second bag sitting in Phoenix's lap and immediately squashed that overzealous imagination of his. "What's that?"

"Stomach pills." Nick pulled a small box out and held it up for Miles to see. "I sometimes get nauseous if I get really nervous. I had to take one before every play I was in before I changed majors."

That was a bit of Wright trivia Edgeworth hadn't known about. "Do you take them before trials as well?" The idea of Phoenix having to medicate himself before their courtroom battles didn't sit well with Miles, though he had no inkling why that was so.

"No. I mean I still get nervous, but it's different. Someone's life is in my hands, so you'd think that would make it worse, but that means I have to work harder and not think about what happens if I mess up. Besides, in court I'm still me. With a role, it's more that your reputation is what's put on the line, and that's based on how good I am at not being me." Phoenix smiled a little while ducking his head down a bit. "That probably made no sense, I bet."

"Actually," Edgeworth was surprised to admit, "it made quite a bit of sense. But given that, I don't see why you'd need them for tonight."

Nick paused on that. "Do you remember that convention we had to go to last month?"

"The one that was so dry and boring you actually did go into a room that had just been painted to watch it dry as a distraction?" Miles snorted. "As it went, you convinced the Fey girls to stay behind with a hefty burger bribe."

"Don't remind me, my wallet never recovered." Phoenix waved that point aside. "Remember how I acted during most of that, not counting the painted room bit?"

Miles gave it some thought. He remembered being mildly astonished at how charming Phoenix had been as they made their social rounds. There wasn't any hint of the usually flustered defence attorney that night, as though it were someone else instead of--'Ah!'

"You were playing a role?" Looking back at the event, it was the only thing that made sense, and also put Edgeworth in a little more awe of Phoenix's acting abilities. "But why?"

"You're kidding, right? Could you really see the regular me fitting in at that thing? Admit it, even before we got there you were worried I would do something stupid."

"Well, not stupid per se," Edgeworth grumbled, knowing he'd been outed on that point. Seeing Phoenix of all people giving him a Look forced him to confess. "All right, I admit I was slightly concerned."

"There, was that so hard?" teased Nick. "But seriously, you weren't the only one worried about it. So I just treated it like a role in a play. Self-confident defence attorney meeting with his peers in the field." The lawyer huffed a little. "I just didn't know the 'scene' was going to be so batshit boring. Honestly, I didn't go into that room to watch the paint dry. I was hoping the fumes might knock me out so I'd have a reason to leave early."

"Colourful phrasing you have there." Although Edgeworth could sympathise, having suffered through the same convention more times that Wright. He couldn't blame the dark-haired attorney for trying to get out of it early since he'd also attempted it on a few occasions. Though losing consciousness due to paint fumes was certainly more creative than anything Edgeworth himself might have tried. But that was going off on a tangent. "I can see why you would 'act' for the convention, but why tonight? You don't have to--"

Nick cut him off. "Oh yes I do. Tonight especially." Phoenix rested his chin on his hand as he gazed out the window. "Besides, thinking of it this way makes it easier for me to get through."

Miles waited for Phoenix to elaborate, only to realise minutes later than Phoenix wasn't going to say anything more about it. Sighing, Miles decided to let the matter drop, though he felt compelled to add a final comment.

"I hope you know you don't have to act around me, at least."

The silence that followed wasn't exactly awkward, but simply strange. Edgeworth assumed Phoenix hadn't heard, and was about to leave it with that until Phoenix did speak, nearly causing the prosecutor to jerk the steering wheel.

"You're the only one I feel safe enough not to act around."

~~~

Neither one brought the topic up again after that. As mentioned, Edgeworth took care of a few errands, not bothering to drop Phoenix off after it was pointed out that it would be a waste of gas to do so and really, Miles, am I that terrible to have in your car. Not that it was terrible, but Edgeworth found it somewhat awkward if only because his mind wouldn't let things lie.

Perhaps interesting would be more appropriate, as there were little things about Phoenix that Edgeworth discovered he didn't know or pay attention to before. When he decided to pick up a few groceries and Nick tagged along, he learned the defence attorney liked sweetened hot cereal, but hated the pre-sugared cold kind. ("Stuff is neon coloured anyway. No thanks, Pearly can have my share.") He was very particular about the type of crackers he ate. ("Don't like saltines unless it's with soup. Otherwise, it's the butter ones.") And he had a weakness for pizza rolls. ("What's not to like? Quick, easy, cheap, and I can keep Maya away from them by lying about the filling.")

But it wasn't just his tastes in food that Edgeworth was learning about. He was slightly struck when he discovered that Phoenix not only had more than a passing knowledge about van Gogh, but could discuss his paintings in great detail after admitting to being partial to the artist's post-impressionist works. As for music, though he mostly liked smooth jazz, Nick had a fondness for some classical music, as well as some classic rock, (leaving Edgeworth to consider his musical tastes as simply eclectic). And while Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 seemed very apropos to Phoenix, the second movement of Barber's violin concerto, Andante, seemed much too sad for the usually laid-back Wright. But Phoenix only threw Miles for another loop with a statement that felt even more confusing than the one he made in the car.

"Believe it or not, I can appreciate the beautiful. And even though it's depressing to think about, there are such things as beautiful sadness. I don't like the sadness, but I can't deny the beauty. But then you should know about that yourself."

Miles had no idea why he would know happen to know anything about it, but he didn't feel it was a point worth arguing.

The errands were finished quickly after that, including making sure Miles' dog Pess was taken care of and storing a few things Phoenix bought for himself at the store. Then it was another trip to the clothing store, which went a lot faster than the first. Even Phoenix was impressed with the fit, oblivious to the strange discomfort Miles again experienced at seeing his rival actually in the tux. With a half-hearted promise from Nick to Arnaud for the lawyer to consider returning to the shop, the two next went to get the tickets. Edgeworth simply explained that he had Franziska hold them so he wouldn't have to scramble, and besides, her place was on the way. Of course he didn't bother to try and hide the smirk when his darling sister got a good look at Wright and her jaw hit the floor. Reaching past a confused Nick, Miles simply closed her mouth and asked for the tickets. Franziska was sputtering now, but managed to hand the tickets over. Then to both Edgeworth and Franziska's utter shock, Nick took hold of one of her hands and gently pressed his lips to the back, offering his heartfelt apologies that she wouldn't be accompanying them. After his own astonishment wore off, Edgeworth took a moment to emphatically deny the very faint swirl of something he felt was envy. It just wasn't. More than likely it was just humour as he was forced to literally bite his tongue and stop himself from laughing at the ridiculous expression on Franziska's face.

Yup, just humour. No way was it envy.

With tickets in hand, it was at last time to go to the opera. A bit of prodding from Phoenix got Miles to admit he wasn't familiar with the particular play they were going to see. The colleague had given them as a thank you for some work Miles had done earlier, and probably didn't know his personal preference. Phoenix seemed placated by the lie, though Edgeworth was now a bit apprehensive; Franziska wasn't an aficionado by any means and probably had just looked for the most convenient one available. He could only hope it wasn't too horrible or they both might be hard-pressed to keep up appearances.

The opera house appeared modest in size, but made up for it with substantial levels of elegance and obvious high standing. Miles wasn't too nonplussed at seeing the presence of a few other associates there. It was, however, still a somewhat jolting experience at seeing a Phoenix that didn't get immediately flustered and instead played the role of a charming acquaintance. He had to remember that's exactly what his friend was doing, playing a role. It was easy to see when compared to the Wright he knew personally, and to an extent he could understand why. But Miles just wasn't quite sure how he felt about the matter.

After some small (and in a few cases, not so small) talk, Edgeworth began to relax considerably. He didn't see why Nick had panicked earlier, as he was doing a remarkable job now, more than Miles would have ever thought possible if he wasn't watching it with his own eyes. Phoenix of course didn't get it much thought. It was a role, he was an actor. It had been second nature to completely give himself over to a character back in his theatre classes. It was a talent that he was grateful to see he hadn't lost even after switching his major to law.

'Just have to carry this face through to the end,' Nick thought. Still, he looked relieved when the various conversations were halted as the ushers announced final seating call. He let Miles take point, having no clue where they were to be seated, let alone which direction they needed to go. But one of the ushers proved to be quite attentive and saw them to a box seat with a very nice view, which Miles chalked up as a combination of Franziska's competitive streak and that instinctual von Karma demand for nothing less than the best. Not that he was complaining; he wasn't paying for it, after all.

Phoenix sat back, hoping the lights would be dim enough to cover him in case he did anything silly. Not that he was intending it, but he knew he had that kind of luck. But really, he just hoped he wouldn't fall asleep. He'd been told on occasion that he talked in his sleep, and Nick was pretty sure that was a big 'uh-uh' for tonight.

The lights dimmed. Phoenix swallowed, nervously curious. Miles relaxed, himself curiously hopeful as the curtain rose…

…and both men soon found themselves completely and utterly bored.

Though it was supposed to be a commedia lirica, Miles found it to be anything but comedic, and Phoenix just found it confusing even with the program guide and the subtitle screen just above the stage. While that let him follow along, the plot itself just didn't make a bit of sense to him.

'Is this really what the so-called uppercrust consider entertainment? I don't think I'll complain about Maya's Steel Samurai infatuation again.'

Miles thoughts were running in a completely different vein.

'Did she do any research before she bought the tickets? Then again, who am I kidding? She probably just told her secretary to find an opera in the area and buy them. I'm definitely taking Franz to task for this. What's the point of class when the show is anything but?'

The two attorneys managed all of act one and most of act two in silent torture and bewilderment, respectively. However, it was Miles who found himself getting twitchy during the performance. Fortunately the lights were dim enough where there particular seats weren't easily seen by anyone. He glanced over at Nick, watching as blue eyes alternated between squinting at the program book and focusing on the superscript screen. A mischievous idea came to Miles that he would only later blame on an inner devil. He leaned over to Phoenix, his voice low where only he would hear.

"You know of course the translation is completely bogus."

Phoenix displayed an amazing amount of control and resisted the urge to jump suddenly at the unexpected voice. He glanced around, only slightly mollified that they probably couldn't be seen, and Edgeworth's voice was so low that they wouldn't be heard, either. Not trusting his own decibels, he offered a questioning look instead. Miles didn't bother hiding the smirk as he took the opening.

"They clean up the translation to make it suitable for other countries' more delicate sensibilities. For example," Miles gestured to the current scene involving a bass character named Fabrizio and a baritone character named Astolfi. "Fabrizio is actually telling Astolfi that if he wants to marry his niece, he'll have to bend over his desk and take it like a man to prove his worthiness."

Phoenix quickly but quietly slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as he struggled not to make a sound. When he finally opened them, he shot Edgeworth a glare to rival any of the ones used by the prosecutor in court. Miles didn't have to be psychic to read the underline expression there.

'Dammit, Miles, don't do that to me!'

But Miles was very much unrepentant. "I'm serious. See, right now he's telling Astolfi that he'll have to measure his cock personally to ensure it's a good fit for his niece."

Nick was sure he'd taste blood from biting his lip so hard. Unable to really do anything, (such as throttle the prosecution), he slipped a pen out from an inside pocket and quickly scribbled in the empty back pages of the program guide before surreptitiously passing it to Edgeworth. The dim lighting that gave the two men camouflage also made it difficult to read the notes, but the small, pinpoint walk lights helped to make out the note.

Are you trying to make me embarrass myself?!

Smiling, Miles pulled out a pen for himself and responded in kind, sliding the book into Phoenix's lap.

Not at all, though you must admit as dull as this is, my translation is much more entertaining.

Though it was still an effort to keep quiet, Phoenix didn't bother hiding a small smile at the reply. He scratched out another note, feeling a bit like a kid back in grade school when he, Larry, and occasionally Miles would sneak notes when the teacher wasn't looking.

Okay, yes, it's boring. And yours probably would be a LOT better, but you're going to make me do something to get us kicked out if you keep 'translating'.

Nonsense. You're an actor, so just think of it as an exercise in how not to break character, Miles wrote back.

1. I was an actor, and that was only in uni. 2. I don't need to practice that, thank you! 3. You're just being EVIL!

I'm told that's one of my finer attributes. To prove both his and Nick's point, he included a drawing of a stick figure bent over a desk and getting screwed by another stick figure. Phoenix barely covered himself with a slight cough, and paid Miles back with a firm toe smash. It hurt, but Miles knew he deserved it. Unfortunately it didn't deter him now that he'd found something more enjoyable to focus on instead of the opera. Since Phoenix refused to let him have the first program guide, Miles used his own to write another note and give it to the now flustered Wright. At first Nick refused to even look at it, but Miles simply waited, hiding a smirk when his patience was rewarded.

So would you rather play Astolfi or Fabrizio?

It was Miles who had to stifle a laugh at the resulting blush that rose to Nick's face, visible even in the darkly lit balcony. Nick quickly scribbled out a reply and shoved the book into Miles' lap.

If you don't leave me alone, you'll play Astolfi to my Fabrizio!

That was not what the prosecutor had expected. He paused to give the idea some thought, and found it actually wasn't a bad idea at all (he would blame that on his inner devil as well). Miles was tempted, but a glance at Nick made him reconsider. Nick looked almost as distressed as he did back in the clothing store. As he didn't intend to cause another panic attack, Miles back down from teasing Phoenix, though not without trying to get the last word in.

I'll behave then, though the idea holds some merit. We'll have to discuss it further after the show.

Phoenix didn't seem like he was going to reply, and Miles turned back to the opera with a faint sigh. Ten minutes later, his attention shifted when he felt the book sliding back onto his lap.

Actually I'd rather play Astolfi to your Gasparina.

Miles nearly choked at that, shooting a mild glare at Nick who looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Miles quickly scribbled a response to that, shoving the book back to Nick.

Don't you dare even think, let alone suggest such a thing. I'd look horrible in that dress!

Oh come on, you'd look great! I mean you're halfway there with that cravat, anyway.

Leave my cravat out of this. The answer is no. Now if you want that role, be my guest.

Be serious. My hair's all wrong for the part. You don't want to know what I had to go through to tame it for a few of the roles in uni.

Saying things like that just makes me all the more curious.

I mean this with the utmost sincerity: thbbt! :p

The note passing went on for the remainder of the second act, which each taking jibes at the other or trying to determine which role would be best suited for them. This was interspersed with Miles' random 'translations' that always earned him a mock scowl as Phoenix never knew when to expect them. Before they knew it, the curtains lowered for intermission, and the blank pages in both program guides had been filled. Phoenix was admiring his doodle of Miles as Orsola when he looked up, blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I wonder if we can get a couple more guides. We filled these up."

"Your fault for the extra caricatures," Edgeworth snorted.

"Says he who kept engaging in stick figure sex drawings."

"So my artistic skills are lacking."

Nick chuckled. "That's okay. I'm kinda glad they are, considering how graphic you got with a few of them. I don't think I'd want to see if you actually could draw. Besides," Nick paused, offering a small smile, "it's nice to know you're not good at everything."

Miles wasn't sure if it was the backwards compliment or the smile that caused the flush over his face. 'I'm not blushing, dammit.' He cleared his throat and stood up. "It's not only how skilled a person is, but how well they hide the skills they're lacking as well."

"And you complain about me bluffing in the courtroom." Phoenix got up as well, laughing softly under his breath. "I can't believe you managed to say that with a straight face."

"I only complain because when you do it, it's distracting and usually delays the trail. And sometimes even I get sick of being behind that table. Now come along, Wright, before intermission is over." Miles was already a few paces ahead, leaving Phoenix to lengthen his stride to catch up.

"Where're we going? If it's to the bathroom, forget it. The lines are just stupid."

"Don't be silly. There's one more act to go." At Nick's confused look, Miles' continued. "There's no way either of us will last through another act without a suitable distraction, so we're going to need at least three more guide books."

Dark spikes shook as Phoenix bit down another laugh. "If someone told me one day I'd be at an opera passing notes to one demon prosecutor, who insists on bad stick figure porn, I'd have petitioned the court to have that person committed."

There was only one thing for Miles to say to that.

"Objection! My stick figure porn is not bad, merely primitive."

Only an iron clad will kept Phoenix from laughing so hard that they were both thrown out. They managed to exit their section and made their way to the lobby. From the last intermission the two men knew that the second one would be roughly twenty-five minutes. Miles used that and a generous bribe to get one of the ushers to get them not only extra program guides, but food and thoroughly inappropriate snacks as well. Nick chuckled and asked if he ever considered using that tactic in court, earning a mock glare for his trouble.

"Please, bribing a judge is so crude. As for bribing the defence attorney, something tells me it would cost more than a monetary bribe." Miles paused for a moment. "Although I could probably bribe the defence's legal aide with burgers."

"Don't even go there." Phoenix pointed at Miles, reminding the prosecutor of their many courtroom battles. "You are a bad influence. And here I thought I was the one who would do something to screw up. At least if I had it would have been an accident. You're just plain evil."

"Oh, and you're going to stand there with a straight face and tell me you were enjoying the show?" Edgeworth challenged.

It was Nick's turn to pause. "…I'm not that good of an actor."

"Didn't think so."

~~~

Twenty minutes later, with their smuggled contraband in hand, the two men made it back to their seats before the third act started. The two lawyers felt and acted more like children as they took great pains to be silent while sneaking their snacks and passing increasingly raunchy notes back and forth to each other. More than once Phoenix was sure they would get caught, but either everyone else was truly engrossed in the opera or, as Miles suggested in one note, they were equally bored and probably didn't care if someone had a make out session right now. Phoenix wrote back that it might improve the entertainment if someone did, to which Miles asked if he was volunteering. Nick hit him with a gummi bear.

After one too many Jujubes and chocolate truffles, the torturous opera had finally come to an end. When Miles started to gather up their trash, Nick told him to leave it. "Just imagine the look of the cleaners, I bet they've never seen anything like it after an opera."

Normally Miles would scoff and proceed to clean up the mess. But given the exceedingly poor quality of the opera, and he himself acting as far removed from his demon prosecutor persona as he'd likely ever get, Miles only smirked and followed Phoenix out, leaving their mess right there. He did however leave a twenty as well, just to make himself feel better about it. The guidebooks they took with them save for one page of Miles' stick figure porn that Phoenix insisted on leaving the poor custodial staff as a souvenir. As a result, though the pair didn't run, they did make a very quick exit. It wasn't until they got into the relative safety of Miles' car that the two lawyers glanced at each other and broke out in a fit of breath-stealing laughter.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into that," Edgeworth managed after a few failed attempts. Nick snorted at that, equally breathless.

"Oh no, take responsibility for your own actions. I for one am perfectly okay with owning up to leaving the stick figure porn. Now if they ask who drew it--"

"Try it and I'll show everyone you drew caricatures of. I'm sure they'd all be thrilled at seeing how you portrayed them as characters in that dreadful opera."

"Maya and Pearls wouldn't care. Neither would Larry or Gumshoe. Franziska… okay, I'll keep quiet, only because I enjoy living, thanks."

"Thought so." Unfortunately, the mention of his sister dulled the humorous ambiance a bit for the prosecutor. He'd forgotten about her and that bet. And worse, part of the bet included paying her a visit after the opera to prove whether Phoenix had managed it or not. Miles was so busy mulling over this that he almost missed what Nick said next.

"I can see why you didn't want to take Franziska with you, though. Knowing her, she'd have started whipping the actors for 'foolishly wasting her time'," he said, mimicking the young girl's voice on that last part.

"You do her too well. Don't ever let her hear you doing that."

"I'm not suicidal, thank you."

"I should hope not." Laughter subsided; Miles started the car and pulled away from the opera house. He was trying to determine how to broach the subject of the bet, hating yet knowing that it would likely sour Phoenix' mood. Still, not only did he feel honour bound to the conditions of the bet, but more importantly, he wanted to be honest with Nick. Miles sighed, already making up his mind and silently praying Phoenix wouldn't be to upset with him as a result.

"Wr--Phoenix, there's something you should know about tonight."

The serious tone was enough to catch Nick's attention, though the use of his given name worried him.

"Uh-oh. You used 'Phoenix'. That means it's serious." Nick tried to think of what the problem could be, intentionally keeping it light to try and keep the buoyant feelings. "If you're going to tell me I have to pay for this tux, I'm letting you know right now the chances of me being able to do that are up there with Larry being in a meaningful relationship."

Miles snorted. "Perhaps if you had clients who paid in cash."

"Hey, Mrs. Pahnfrie's curry chicken was great!"

"Ahem, culinary recompense aside, no, this has nothing to do with the tuxedo."

Phoenix noticed Miles was gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, though Miles himself appeared unaware of it. Nick bit his lip a moment, wondering just how serious this was going to get.

"Okay then, what is it? I'm told I'm a decent listener if nothing else."

"You are, though perhaps a touch too empathic when you do." But Miles knew he was stalling with another tangent. He took a slow breath, hoping Phoenix' forgiving nature would still hold true. "I'm afraid I brought you with me under false pretences."

'Well, that doesn't sound too bad, depending on what the actual purpose was… or is,' Nick thought. Aloud he said, "Okay, so what's the real reason?" He smiled then, hoping to put Miles at ease. "Not that I didn't have fun. I doubt anyone would believe me if I said you drew stick porn."

Miles managed a faint smile at that, but it faded quickly as he continued. "In truth, it was something of a dare, or rather a bet, between me and Franziska."

That earned Miles a confused blink, as it was the last thing Phoenix expected to hear. "A bet? I didn't even think Whipzilla even made bets, or anything outside of law and hitting people."

"If she heard you calling her that, I don't think even I'd be able to save you."

"Remember me saying I'm not suicidal?"

"Point." A red light caught the two, leaving Miles to strum his fingers against the wheel for a moment. "Anyway, the content of the bet was along the lines of you wouldn't be able to compose yourself properly for such an event. I disagreed, to which, being both a von Karma and the prosecutor she is.--"

"--demanded that you 'prove' it," Nick said, finishing for him. "I can see her doing something like that. I take it part of the deal was not to tell me about the bet?"

"Well, it was never stipulated, though I was afraid if I had told you, you would simply have agreed with her," Miles admitted. "I didn't want to destroy my chances before I even had any."

"Mm." Nick was noncommittal on that point, if solely because he knew he probably would have agreed with Franziska. 'But apparently Miles didn't.' He saved that thought for later, intending to ask exactly why Miles felt differently. "Okay, I can understand. But, um, I wasn't exactly acting 'proper' when we started the whole note passing bit in act two, and we were both pretty silly for act three."

"Ah, but the spirit of the bet itself was that you would likely do something to embarrass either me or yourself, which you didn't. Besides, I was the one who instigated any inappropriate behaviour, so the fault would be with me, and not your own failings."

"… the stick porn was fun, though."

Miles smiled, not surprised that Phoenix found that to be the highlight of the evening. He was also glad that Nick wasn't upset at learning about the bet itself. "Anyway, the final condition of the bet is that I'm to take you back to her place for one last look and proof as to whether we managed not to get ejected from the opera."

"Suspicious little dom, isn't she?"

"She is a von Karma."

"Point."

~~~

The drive back to Franziska's house wasn't too long. A quick brush off of any lingering crumbs from act three and the two felt ready to deal with 'Whipzilla', as Phoenix had managed to plant the name firmly into Miles's head. Though not without a dire warning.

"I swear if I ever slip and call her that to her face, I'm hunting you down and beating you with her whip myself."

Not that Phoenix helped matters with a thoroughly unexpected reply.

"Well, her whip hurts, but it might not be so bad if you're the one doing the beating." Fortunately the defence lawyer knew to back off at the threat of having leftover Tootsie Rolls shoved up his nose.

Franziska greeted them at the door, her customary scowl in place, though it faltered at seeing the two appearing so relaxed. It crumbled further when Phoenix spoke. As earlier, Miles was stunned at the change from naïve and friendly Nick to Phoenix Wright, actor.

"Good evening, Miss von Karma. I hope we're not disturbing you at this late hour?"

"D-don't be foolish. It's not that late, and I-I was already up," she muttered. Miles noticed the faint blush across his nose and cheeks, but wisely kept silently.

'When she blushes like that, she really does look like a teenager.

"Ah, that's good to hear. Miles insisted we stop by, you see."

"Indeed I did." It was Miles's turn to scowl, this time at his sister. "That opera was an abomination. Do I even want to know how you managed to pick that one out?"

Poor Franziska sputtered a moment before making an effort to regain her composure. "What does it matter? I thought it would be a foolish waste of time anyway."

Miles looked ready to say something to that, but fortunately Phoenix cut him off before it escalated into a weird sibling argument.

"Sadly, Miles is right. The opera was substandard. It's just as well you weren't able to accompany us. I'm can only hope that we'll be able to find an opera more worthy of your attention so that you may join us next time."

'I don't know if I should be impressed with his acting ability or nauseated by the scene itself,' Miles thought. He decided he really didn't want to see anymore and cut their visit short.

"Anyway, Franz, I'll speak with you tomorrow about your tastes in operas, and other things. Wright and I sat through all three acts of that horrendous torture, so we're tired and going home. Good night."

"Good night, Miss von Karm--aah!" Nick felt himself pulled off-balance and barely righted himself as Miles dragged him back to the car. Once inside Miles wasted no time starting it up and pulling away from Franziska's house. Phoenix, much to Miles's irritation, was actually pouting at the treatment.

"Did you have to sling me around like a sack of old potatoes?" he complained, rubbing the spot Miles had grabbed him at.

The prosecutor thought about it and conceded that perhaps he had been a little abrupt with his actions. "My apologies. I just didn't feel like standing around making nice with Franziska. Don't get me wrong, I care about her like a sister, but she's the reason we were stuck watching such an atrocious program. And more importantly, a little of Franziska goes a long way."

Phoenix paused a second before he burst out laughing. "Oh man, I think even you wouldn't get away from that whip if she caught you saying that." Still snickering he added, "So what's my silence worth to you?"

Edgeworth wanted to point out that he could easily snitch on Phoenix' new nickname for her. But seeing a yawn catch Nick off-guard had Miles saying something different before he realised it.

"Would a soft bed and a decent breakfast in the morning, both located at my house, be sufficient?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Miles blushed and wished he could take them back. 'Way to not sound like your propositioning him or something, idiot.' Miles cleared his throat, trying to think of an apology, when Phoenix stopped him cold.

"Actually, that's not a bad deal. Throw in a cup of coffee in the morning and my lips are sealed."

Miles blinked; he didn't think he'd be taken up on his offer. Not that he was upset about it, though he wasn't going to admit to being pleased either, no matter what the little butterflies in his stomach said. "Are you sure?"

"Why not? You have to be tired of driving, and taking me home will overshoot your place. If you have a washer and dryer, I can clean my suit and catch a bus in the morning, problem solved."

"Er, yes." The logical part of Miles's brain couldn't argue with any of it. 'And it's just one night. We're both tired, anyway.' Miles couldn't find any fault with the plan save one. "I can drive you back to your apartment, so you won't need to catch a bus."

"Sure? Well, okay, if it's no trouble." Smiling, Phoenix made a gesture with his hand forward. "Home, Jeeves."

"Do I look like your chauffer?" Miles stopped, remembering just who was driving who. "Don't answer that. Is this the reason you don't learn how to drive? To get other people to shuttle you around?"

"Every bus driver is my own personal one, didn't you know that?" Nick waved his hand about, feeling sillier as the lack of sleep begins to creep in. "And I will replace all those weird ad mini billboards they have inside with great murals of stick porn."

Miles groaned. "Okay, not another word out of you until we get to my house, understand?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Edgeworth, sir. Or should I say pal?"

"…idiot."
~~~

From Franziska's place to Miles's was a bit of a longer drive. By the time they arrived, Phoenix was nearly asleep, and Miles was only conscious enough to avoid an accident along the way. He shut off the engine before reaching over to shake Nick's shoulder.

"Wright, we're here."

Nick yawned and stretched, blinking wearily at Miles. "Please say there's a bed with my name on it in there."

"For tonight, yes," Miles said, knowing his own bed was going to feel like heaven. 'We must be crashing from all that junk we ate earlier.'

Nick smiled, looking very pleased with that statement. "Praise the gods, a bed! You are a beautiful person, Miles Edgeworth. I mean it."

Even in his exhausted state, that quirky compliment sent the blood rushing to Miles's face. Still, he managed a retort, not knowing what else to say. "You only love me for my guestroom."

The two men were getting out the car as Nick shook his head. "No, I love you for a lot of things, though the bed doesn't hurt."

Poor Miles nearly choked on that even as Phoenix made his way to the front steps. Miles finally decided to chalk everything at that point up to an unusually high sugar intake and went to unlock the door, stepping aside to let Phoenix in.

"Very nice," Nick said, covering another yawn. "If I weren't so tired, I'd probably be in silent awe with my mouth hanging open. You don't mind if I save that reaction for tomorrow, do you?"

"It's just as well. I doubt if I'd have the energy to smirk right at such a reaction anyway."

"So jaw hanging and smirking in the morning, preferably after coffee, or tea."

Chuckling, Miles directed Phoenix to leave his shoes at the entrance then led him to a nicely furnished guestroom. Miles turned on the light, letting Phoenix get a good look at the room. As soon as he saw the bed, Nick looked ready to make a dive for it, but Miles anticipated this and immediately held his arm across Nick's chest to prevent that.

"Strip first."

Phoenix grinned. "You know, I always wondered what it'd be like to have you say that to me. Though I was hoping for different circumstances."

Miles did his best impersonation of a beet as his arm dropped quickly to his side, his other hand covering his face. "Wright!"

"I know, that was terrible. I'm hoping you'll forget everything I said soon as I started crashing from the sugar. I'm told I can be very weird."

That was an interesting tidbit. "Weird? How so?" Miles asked as he turned to get a plain set of pyjamas out the closet. 'I think these will fit…' He turned back around and had what he could only describe as a brain hiccup. Phoenix had taken off most of the outer layers and stood in only his fitted black briefs and a black t-shirt. 'Black really is a good colour for him, he should wear it more often.' Miles was too tired to fight or block that thought, and realised he didn't want to anyway.

Nick sat on the bed, his expression a cross between thoughtful and rundown. "Um, last time I crashed from a sugar high, it was kinda but not exactly like being drunk, least that's what Maya told me. And now you know why my mom never wanted me eating too much of that stuff when we were kids." He took the pyjamas from Miles, smiling a little as he felt the texture. "I'm surprised these aren't satin, or do you save that for yourself?" Nick asked as he started getting dressed in them.

Miles snorted. "If you must know, contrary to popular belief, I prefer cotton sleepwear. Lightweight cotton during warmer temperatures is more forgiving."

"Hm, I can understand that, suppose." To Miles's eyes it didn't look like Phoenix could understand his own name at that point. Shaking his head, Miles turned down the cover and guided Nick into the bed, even going as far as to tuck him in. Nick mumbled into the pillow, already half asleep.

"…thanks Miles, g'night."

"… good night, W--night, Phoenix."

Miles turned the light off and quietly closed the door behind him, missing the faint smile tugging at Nick's lips.

~~~

The next morning came much too bright for Miles, who had forgotten to close his blinds before crawling into bed. And it came much too early for Phoenix, now lethargic from yesterday's sugar high.

A shower helped both men to wake up, Miles more so. Upon seeing Nick exit the bathroom, Miles hid a smile when he realised those spikes didn't require nearly as much hair gel as one might think, though a couple in the front were still heavy with water and bounced against Nick's forehead. He blew up at them, watching as they fell right back down, much to Miles's amusement.

"Maybe you should just wear that part of your hair like that," Miles suggested. "It… suits you."

Nick quickly shook his head. "I don't like hair flipping into my eyes too much. Besides, Maya and Pearl think my hair is stiff, which is the only thing keeping them out of it. They find out it's not that hard and I just know they'll try and style it for me. Ugh, no thanks."

"Hmm, I can understand given those conditions, then." 'Though it's too bad. That look is rather flattering for him.'

With his clothes in the wash, Miles checked his closet to see if he had anything Nick could where. He found a pair of casual pants and a plain shirt which he offered to Phoenix for the time being. At the mildly curious look, Miles huffed, guessing what was going through his spiky haired guest's mind.

"Just because you hardly see me outside of our professional life doesn't that's the only colour in my wardrobe, Wright."

"I think I'm more shocked that there're no ruffles anywhere."

"… I despise you sometimes."

They made their way to Miles's kitchen, with Nick chuckling as he watched the prosecutor pull out the ingredients to pancakes. When Miles raised a brow at that, Nick waved to the instant mix on the counter.

"I dunno, I guess I thought you'd be ultra gourmet given everything else about you."

That earned a faint snort. "Let's think about this. Despite appearances and tastes, I'm still a single male with an abundance of work. Who has time to cook gourmet?"

"Okay, you have a point. I'm guessing you also go the take-out route every once in awhile? Only instead of the Chinese place down the way, you order French or Italian that delivers."

"I do order, on occasion." Miles coughed and focused on the batter, hating that Nick pegged him that easily. Nick smiled but decided to leave his friend be for the moment.

Along with pancakes, breakfast included some fruit, a couple of eggs, and pre-cooked bacon. "You really aren't gourmet." "Shut up, Wright." Aside from the light ribbing, the conversation was pleasant, ranging from current events to fine arts, their friends. However, yesterday had left both men with questions about the other, and soon they felt comfortable enough to start asking.

"So, do I want to know how you found out about my previous major, and just how much of you know about my short-lived theatrical career?"

Miles sat back, now sipping a cup of tea while Phoenix was nursing a mug of coffee. "Hmm, does the name Izar Drazi ring a bell?"

"Hmm, I think…" Phoenix looked down at his coffee for a few seconds before blue eyes lifted in recognition. "Oh yeah, she was in the theatre class. I played Dickon to her Martha in The Secret Garden."

"So she told me." At Nick's confused look, Miles explained, "Apparently she had some relatives in Germany, who happened to know the von Karma's, or rather knew of Franziska's maternal side of the family."

"Huh, so she did have a mother. And here Maya was convinced she was spawned."

"Hush, you." Miles took another sip, though more to hide his own smile behind the teacup. He did care deeply for the young girl, but having dealt with her growing up in the von Karma house, he was aware of how abrasive she could be to other people. "Anyway, we were introduced, and through conversation we realised that her "Fee" was the same "Phoenix" I went to grade school with. It was from her that I learned about your previous major and the various roles you had, as she was kind enough to send me the copies she had of some of the productions, and even called in a few favours to get the ones she was missing."

Phoenix groaned and let his head thump against the table. "Ugh, and you watched them? Why?"

"Why not? You may not have had years of experience on the stage, but you were--no, are quite talented." Miles closed his eyes to enjoy his next sip, but the following silence made him look up to see an incredulous Phoenix gazing back at him. "What is it?"

"I--I mean--you really did watch those?" Nick shook his head, obviously surprised at the idea. "Sorry, I'm trying to wrap my brain around that. I didn't think it was your cuppa, in truth."

Miles sent another raised brow at the defence attorney. "You thought theatrical productions weren't to my liking?" he asked, his tone indicating that Phoenix of all people should know better.

"N-no, not like that! I mean, well…" Phoenix sat up, nervously rubbing the back of his head. "It's just… college productions aren't Broadway shows, you see."

"Ah." Miles set his cup down and gave Nick a look that was direct yet gentled. "It's true a college production isn't a professional showcase. But I place more value on talent than surface appearances. Many professional plays often lack the heart one can find in a college production. And besides, I believe it was you who said, 'I can appreciate the beautiful'. But beauty is still based on perception, and what I saw when I watched those plays was… worthy of my appreciation." Miles stumbled slightly, altering his words before they escaped him. 'I found something in them that was beautiful, but I'm not sure if it would be appropriate to say such a thing.'

Phoenix simply held Miles in a long look, yet couldn't find anything but absolute sincerity, though he didn't miss the small skip in words. "U-um, th-thank you." He tugged nervously at one of the limp spikes in his eyes for a moment. "Heck, I bet our instructor would've liked to hear that. I should go see if she's still around and let her know."

Miles knew that, unless something major like a case or those Fey girls distracted him, Nick would probably do just that. "When you do, give her my regards as a patron of the arts." He glanced out the window a moment as he felt his own question forming. "You could have had a successful career in the theatre, perhaps even film. And while I haven't seen any of your work outside of the doodles last night, I have it on good authority that you weren't a bad sketch artist. Do you ever regret leaving that behind to become a lawyer? Did… was it really okay to give that up on the chance you'd meet me in court again?"

There was no hesitation in Nick's answer. "Of course! I was already considering it and taking some classes before Da--before the Hawthorne Trial." Phoenix went silent for a moment as he always did when he remembered that trial. "… it was after seeing Mia that I really made the decision, or when I committed myself to it, I guess. I wasn't even sure you would want my help, but I knew you were in trouble and I wanted to help."

'That sounds like him.' Miles tilted his head a bit as he pondered over it. "Still, how did you surmise that I was in trouble to begin with?"

"Are you kidding? Miles, I saw you with your dad. You idolised him. I was the one who listened to you retell all his cases. Hell, remembering some of those stories is what kept me going through law school. So when I read the papers about you as a prosecutor, I knew something was up." Nick sat up a little more, his fingers still toying with his spikes. "Not saying being a prosecutor is a bad thing. I think, if the system were revamped, prosecution and defence could and should seek the truth as a team. And obviously a prosecutor has a better salary."

Miles snorted at that. "Actually defence attorneys can make more. Father and I were comfortable. You just have an atrocious business model in place."

"You're probably right." Phoenix chuckled while Miles resisted the urge to make an ill-timed pun on the statement. "But I'm veering off. I knew you were in trouble because what I read in the paper was so different from the Miles I knew back in school. More than just 'growing up' different. But you didn't answer my letters so I didn't know what exactly was going on. The only other option was to hopefully meet you in court." Nick paused before smiling over at Miles. "Seemed to have worked, I'd say. So no, I don't regret becoming a lawyer, even with my god-awful business sense." The smile faltered slightly when he noticed Miles staring blankly at his tea. Nick sighed, feeling a little guilty as he guessed the cause for the pensive mood change. "For what it's worth, and especially considering all the crap you went through because of people like von Karma and Gant, I think Mr. Edgeworth is proud of you."

Miles briefly wondered if telepathy was another of Phoenix' hidden talents. 'Or am I just that transparent?' He looked up, grey eyes suddenly trapped by deep blue. The earnest expression he found in their depths choked Miles up for a moment. He turned away only so he could find his voice again, which was a low murmur.

"Th-thank you." Then Miles changed the subject, knowing how melancholy he could get when the topic of his father came up and not wanting to bring Phoenix down with his mood. "Anyway, I feel I owe you for that deplorable opera last night. It so happens that the art museum is opening an exhibition for some of Paul Cézanne's works, and I thought--" Miles didn't get a chance to finish as Phoenix' enthusiasm rushed to the surface.

"Cézanne? Really! Cool, I'd like to see that!" Nick was nearly bouncing in place as he started rambling. "I know they'd only be reproductions, but I hope they have Bathers, or maybe The House with Cracked Walls, that's always been a favourite. But then, I like his watercolours, too. Foliage would be nice to see. And have you ever seen A Modern Olympia? Even though his style isn't what I'd call soft, there's this kind of fantasy feel to it that I enjoy--"

"I think for once you're better versed about this than I?" Miles conceded, idly wondering if Phoenix was going to stop and breathe. "I'm not familiar with too many of his works. I know about the bathers series, and one more--hmm, oh yes--I know The Abduction, but that's all, I'm afraid."

"Ugh." Phoenix shivered. "Not one of my favourites. Though I can't say it's not a powerful piece. Well, if it's there, it's there. I'll just hold your hand while we look at it," he added with a grin.

"Don't tell me it scares you?"

"Alright, I won't tell you."

Miles had a retort at the ready, but paused. When he thought about it, that Phoenix wouldn't like such a painting made perfect sense to him. It was darker in both colour and theme, and didn't seem the type for the normally laid-back attorney. Miles opted to change the subject as he remembered the other thing Nick said just seconds earlier.

"Hold your hand? I take it then you'll accept my invitation to go see it this afternoon?"

"Oh c'mon, it's Cézanne . Of course I'll go. And yes, you'll have to hold my hand if they have The Abduction there." Nick tapped his chin, hiding a faint smile. "After all, that's what you're supposed to do on a date." He couldn't help grinning as he watched Miles sputter and stumble over a reply before continuing. "And I do have one condition."

"Oh?" Miles finally got his composure back while silently wondering just what he was letting himself in for. A condition. And what, praytell, is the condition?"

Nick smiled, then shocked the living hell out of the prosecutor when he leaned over and simply pecked Miles on the cheek. "Simple, no tuxes allowed. Now, I'm going to get ready, and you better not stand me up." He was gone after that, leaving Miles in a confused state as he touched his cheek.

'I think my life has just taken a turn for the weird.'

In the hall, Phoenix whistled a little tune, feeling immensely pleased with himself.

'I love my life.'

~ fin ~


A/N: Ugh, sucky ending. But if I didn't stop it here, this thing would have gone on ad infinitum. So yes, bad ending, but at least it's complete.

1: "I hold a wolf by the ears. Beware of Wright." Equivalent of 'holding a tiger by the tail'. Basically Miles figures he's in a bad position no matter what, and blames Phoenix for his suffering. I just had an overwhelming urge for him to say something in Latin, sue me. [back]