parasitefever
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“Wright, look at me.” He thinks he hears Edgeworth snapping his fingers at him like a dog. With difficulties he forces one of his eyes open. Does Edgeworth know he's way too close for comfort? For a man so adamant at keeping his personal space personal, he doesn't seem to give other people the same privilege. “What’s with you?”
Too big of a question, in Phoenix's opinion—too loud, as well. It's like that one time he stood too close to a speaker at a school disco. “It’s just... the blood…”
"You're— How do you navigate crime scenes like this?”
Miles Edgeworth tries his hand at helping.
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Sleep. He can't. It’s Thursday and the last time he slept more than an hour without violently thrashing was (probably?) three days ago, and he can't let Phoenix see him like this. He knows he will do everything to comfort him and the image makes him shudder; he’d rather die than be subjected to this; he’d rather die than subject Phoenix to this. But it was not the first time he’d been asked and he knew he couldn't hide forever, as enticing as it was; Phoenix is nothing if not persistent and yet still so kind about it and Miles wishes he were someone else who deserved it. He’s about to politely decline just as Phoenix says, “I have the new Steel Samurai movie that you have to watch with me,” and he’s clearly a weaker man than he thought. He feels like a guillotine is about to sever his neck from the body as he says, “You're playing dirty, Wright,” and Wright is fist bumping the air as if he’s done anything other than the bare minimum. He looks at him and he thinks, why why why.
Miles' first night at Phoenix's apartment.
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Christmas. A boat. A pistol.
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She lasts about half an hour, give or take. Nick is probably fast asleep already; he always has been a better sleeper than she was, could sleep practically anywhere, too, and she was so so jealous of that—when they had a tough case and he just fell asleep at his desk and she spent the whole night listening to music and doing the crossword book he had abandoned after one page. The next day, he didn't even ask about her dark circles and was pretty happy about the progress she had made.
She thinks maybe there is a chance he hasn't fallen asleep yet and goes to the main room to check. It’s even brighter in there with all the lights from Gatewater turned on, the entire hotel apparently still not ready to sleep, and she doesn't understand how Nick can do this.
His body on the bed is not really moving and that probably means he did actually fall asleep, but she tries anyway.
“Nick?”
Maya has trouble sleeping. Luckily, Phoenix is there. And Edgeworth, too (?!).
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He didn't know anything, if he were to be honest, except for the nagging feeling in his throat and the urge to barf, like when they'd won a big case and had decided to celebrate by eating an insane amount of chocolate cake—he didn't remember the last time he had felt this weird after coming to. Was that concerning? Not enough to go to the hospital, in his eyes—probably low blood pressure—or high blood pressure? His body had been sending him mixed signals; either way, as long as he wasn't gushing blood like a garden hose any longer he reckoned he was in perfect health.
Phoenix faints. Miles helps.