[RL 28: Chicken Soup for the Prosecutor's Soul, Take 2]

[samuraiprosecutor]

((OOC: Taking place at about three this afternoon.))



A sharp knocking echoed through the living room, and in its wake, a disheveled head of grey hair popped up over the back of the sofa, followed by a pair of blearily blinking grey eyes. Edgeworth regarded the front door curiously for a moment, his brows furrowed; the dog walker (who he'd been forced to call once he realized his dismissal of the boy's services for the days he'd be home was rather...premature) wasn't due for several more hours, and he obviously wasn't expecting any company.

Edgeworth leaned his chin against the back of the sofa for a while, peering at the door through half-lidded eyes, and debated with himself over whether he should bother to chase off whatever salesman or neighbor's friend was waiting outside the door or just leave it up to them to take the blatantly obvious hint.

...But the hint wasn't blatantly obvious enough, apparently, and as the second round of loud knocking pierced his skull, aggravating his headache, Edgeworth finally stirred, untangling himself from his thick blanket and stretching gingerly to set his book on the ottoman. By the time he dragged himself unsteadily to his feet, the knocking had ceased, but Sigi's sudden appearance in the hallway (and his fixation on the door) told Edgeworth the silence didn't indicate a retreat.

Brows furrowing deeply, Edgeworth shuffled across the living room. He stood in front of the door for a few moments, wrapping his arms around himself in a vain effort to stave off his shivering, then cautiously opened it and looked out into the hall.

Comments

[attorneyatlol]

And there Phoenix stood, staring back with an awkward smile.

“Hey,” he said, taking in his friend’s casual dress with some surprise (a white shirt and red pajama bottoms topped off with a red fleece robe; was Edgeworth actually getting some rest?), then nodding toward the paper bag cradled in his arms. Before he could say anything else, however, his smile suddenly faltered at the sight of Edgeworth’s face—rather the sight of his whole appearance. Sagging posture, pasty complexion, dark bags hanging under his half-lidded eyes…

To put it bluntly, he looked like crap.

Phoenix cleared his throat and tried not to look too concerned. “Er… how are you feeling?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

A wave of déjà vu washed over him as Wright came into sight, paper bag in hand and some appetizing scent surrounding him. Edgeworth's eyes widened briefly (though the heaviness of his lids meant the change was only marginally noticeable) then narrowed, his gaze turning stern.

"Quite well. Or rather, I was until I was forced to leave my couch."

[attorneyatlol]

Nice to see you, too, Phoenix thought, but the feeling was short-lived. Disturbing Edgeworth had been the last thing he’d wanted to do, after all.

“Sorry about that,” he said, momentarily averting his gaze. He shifted the bag’s weight, adjusting it to a more comfortable position before offering it to Edgeworth with an apologetic smile. “I brought you some soup?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth’s gaze fell to the bag, the scent of which was continuing to fill the hallway. His digestive system had been...less than stable during the course of the Typhoid, and he realized with some surprise that he’d barely eaten in the past two days. The thick, savory scent was at once appetizing and nauseating; he kept his eyes on the bag for a very long moment before finally glancing up at his friend through his bangs, his brows furrowed almost suspiciously. “Togo’s?”

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix scoffed, withdrawing the offering as if offended. “Fast food soup? For Miles Edgeworth?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

A small smirk twitched at the corner of Edgeworth’s lips. “At least you learned something from the last time.”

[attorneyatlol]

Hoisting the bag under his arm, Phoenix answered with a brief smirk of his own before his lips settled into a casual smile; at least Edgeworth’s snark was intact. “It’s from Beli’s, actually. Remember that sandwich shop?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

He did, actually, as clearly as he remembered the conversation they had there. A slight frown passed over his face, was quickly smoothed over. “Are their soups any better than their mediocre sandwiches?”

[attorneyatlol]

Said conversation was one Phoenix had already pushed from his mind during the taxi ride over, fortunately. “I happen to like their mediocre sandwiches,” he said with a frown.

[samuraiprosecutor]

“Probably because you don’t know any better,” Edgeworth quipped, his smirk returning, but in that moment, his stomach chose to remind him—quite loudly—that he’d been starving his fever for at least two days, and Wright was standing in his doorway with an offering of comfort food. Edgeworth cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the paper bag.

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix cocked an eyebrow, whatever retort he had ready dying on his lips with a smirk. “Sounds like your stomach doesn’t, either.”

[samuraiprosecutor]

The jibe earned Wright a frown that looked suspiciously like a pout. “Regardless, if that’s a cleverly disguised Trojan horse, intended to entice me into opening myself up to more badgering, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

[attorneyatlol]

“I’d settle for you opening the door,” Phoenix offered, eyebrows pointedly raised; his arm was getting tired from the added weight.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Rolling his eyes, Edgeworth deigned to step away from the door, swinging it open wider as he did so...and nearly catching Sigi on the shoulder in the process, as the dog had crept up behind him, unnoticed, and had been watching Wright from behind the door throughout the exchange.

"Sigi, voraus!" Edgeworth snapped, then watched the dog lope into the hallway before he finally cleared the door. He stood just inside the foyer, one arm still wrapped around his chest and the other outstretched, his palm open expectantly.

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix waved Edgeworth’s hand away, the bag still tucked under his arm. “I got it.”

Without delay, he entered the apartment, casting a brief glance in the hallway to find exactly what he expected (a large dog, staring at him intently), then quickly made a beeline for the kitchen. Assuming Edgeworth would follow, he set the bag on the island countertop and began rummaging through it, pulling out two round containers, two Styrofoam boxes, and a small bottle of Coke.

“It’s been a while, but…” He looked over his shoulder. “You like bread bowls, right?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

Wright was gone before he could protest, sweeping effortlessly into his apartment. (Or almost effortlessly. Edgeworth didn’t fail to catch the look he threw at Sigi as he entered.) Sighing softly, Edgeworth cast a longing glance toward the sofa then followed his friend to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway and leaning heavily on the jamb, his arms not only crossed but wrapped tightly around him.

At Wright’s question, he craned his neck a little, but couldn’t bring himself to move any further simply for the sake of seeing food that he’d have in front of him momentarily. “Generally, though it depends on the soup.”

[attorneyatlol]

“Chicken soup for the soul, of course.” Phoenix held up one of the round containers (which was still warm, he noted thankfully) and smiled; the plastic was filled to the brim with yellow broth and noodles.

He set the container back down and then turned around completely, watching Edgeworth for a moment. “So… Do you want to eat in the dining room or…?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

He wanted to eat in the dining room or the kitchen, where the floor was easily cleaned and the tabletop was at an adequate height...

...But a small shiver worked its way up his spine, and the doubled comfort of a warm blanket and even warmer soup was immediately too tempting to discount. He lifted his chin slightly. “Can you be trusted to keep your food in your bowl and off my rug?”

[attorneyatlol]

Glancing skyward, Phoenix folded his arms and then narrowed his eyes at Edgeworth. It’s not like he was some sort of slob (the stains dotting his own rug at home notwithstanding). “I can be trusted to try.”

[samuraiprosecutor]

The look Edgeworth returned was dubious, at best, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice when he replied, “The living room, then.”

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix smirked. He turned around and stacked the containers in his arm, balancing them on one hand while carrying his Coke in the other. “To the living room,” he said as he passed Edgeworth in the doorway.

Pointedly ignoring the dog still standing in the hall (lying in wait, Phoenix guessed), he made his way through the foyer to Edgeworth’s couch and promptly redirected himself to the armchair when he saw the blanket sprawled over the cushions. It looked like Edgeworth really was getting some rest. Maybe Phoenix wouldn’t have to nag him, after all…

He set his soda and the containers on the ottoman and proceeded to open the Styrofoam boxes.

[samuraiprosecutor]

The sight of the containers balanced precariously in Wright's hand made Edgeworth immediately regret his decision. Only the fear of upsetting the balance and causing a spill himself managed to hold him back from snatching most of the containers away, and he hovered close behind Wright as they moved to the seating area.

Once the containers were no longer dangerously in motion, Edgeworth turned to the sofa, tossed his blanket over one of the armrests, then took a seat on the side that was roughly across from the armchair. A trace of warmth still lingered in the cushions, and he allowed himself a few moments to relax against the sofa's back before he intended to collect his own food.

[attorneyatlol]

Collecting his food wouldn’t be necessary. Done opening the boxes that held the bread bowls, Phoenix moved on to the container of chicken noodle soup, carefully (because he really wasn’t a slob) opened it, and poured the soup into the bowl.

“It’s creamy chicken noodle,” he warned, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. “They said the bread absorbs the broth too fast, otherwise.” He set the container aside and brought the takeout box to Edgeworth. A handful of packaged saltines and a plastic spoon lay next to the bread bowl.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth glanced at the bowl, his brows furrowed, before turning on his companion with a slight glare.

“You’re not going to add the crackers? Or perhaps place the spoon in it for me?” The hint of mocking in his tone faded into irritation as he snatched the box a bit curtly from his friend’s hands. “I’m not an invalid, Wright. I could have gotten it myself.”

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix was slightly taken aback. “Huh?” he said. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

See if I try to do anything nice for you again, he thought, resisting the urge to reach out and shove the spoon in the soup just to spite Edgeworth. “Sorry,” he muttered after a moment and then went back to the ottoman to work on his own food.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Once Wright was suitably distracted by his own preparations, Edgeworth proceeded to settle himself on the couch. The presence of easily spilled food--not to mention the presence of company other than Sigi--made his prior position an undesirable one, but he'd chosen the living room for a reason.

As a concession to the fits of shivering that were still occasionally wracking his body, he gingerly drew the blanket over, set the box aside, and laid the blanket over himself, managing (with some effort) to arrange it over his chest, covering his shoulders while leaving his hands free on either side. It wasn't a particularly effective setup...or a flattering one, for that matter, but it would have to do.

Satisfied, Edgeworth retrieved the box and set it carefully in his lap. The soup's warmth penetrated his blanket easily, and Edgeworth briefly shut his eyes and wrapped his hands around the bread bowl, a soft sigh escaping him.

[attorneyatlol]

Soup poured (it was clam chowder for him), Phoenix sank into the armchair behind him and laid the box in his lap, opening a packet of oyster crackers as he watched Edgeworth savor the warmth of his bread.

His irritation had been short-lived (after nearly four years, a natural form of gratitude was not something he’d come to except from his friend), and in an attempt to keep the mood pleasant, he searched the room for conversation topics. Law was always a possibility, of course, but it sometimes felt like a fallback, like a contingency plan they used when they didn’t know what else to say to each other. He’d like to think they were beyond that.

“So…” he sighed. By chance, his gaze landed on the open book laying face down on the ottoman, and, after straining to read the title, he looked up at Edgeworth curiously. “Sherlock Holmes?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

He glanced up, following the line of Wright's gaze to the book still open on the ottoman, forgotten in favor of food and...company. Edgeworth's brows furrowed (the spine was sure to be damaged by such treatment) but he remained in his seat, crumbling crackers into his soup as he replied, "Sherlock Holmes. I was recently reminded of how enjoyable Doyle's works are, and I thought another read through was in order."

[attorneyatlol]

“Ah.” Phoenix leaned back in the chair and mixed his soup together, glancing down at the book thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve never actually read Sherlock Holmes before…”

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth froze in the midst of stirring his soup, giving his companion a wide-eyed stare. "You're serious?"

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix frowned, suddenly feeling like he’d committed some mortal sin in Edgeworth’s eyes. “Yeah…?”

[samuraiprosecutor]

"And yet you claim to be a fan of the mystery genre?" The tone was sharp, but there was a genuine question underlying it and an almost confused twist to his brow. "Wright, Conan Doyle was one of the chief innovators of modern detective fiction. Most mystery writers that came after him owe something to his work."

[attorneyatlol]

"I know that. But I'm not a diehard fan or anything..." Though it looked like he might be in the presence of one... Phoenix shifted in his seat and averted his gaze. "I just... I tend to gravitate towards them when I feel like reading something. Besides..." He lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips and paused to let it cool. "I have a whole collection of Agatha Christie books to get through now. I'm sure Holmes will still be there when I'm done."

[samuraiprosecutor]

Somewhat mollified by the name, Edgeworth turned his attention back to his food, carefully spooning out some of his soup and holding it out of the bowl to cool. "Hm. Holmes has survived over one hundred thirty years. I suppose another few months wouldn’t be too great a risk.”

He punctuated the response by popping the spoon into his mouth, but discovered belatedly that he hadn’t waited long enough. A grimace crossed his features. He resisted the urge to tilt his head back and open his mouth to let in the cool air of the apartment, and instead swallowed the bite as quickly as he was able, wincing again at the burn as it slid down his throat.

[attorneyatlol]

“It’s hot,” Phoenix belatedly warned, trying not to smirk. He took a bite of his own soup, which had cooled considerably.

In all honesty, he didn’t know if he’d get to Sherlock Holmes in the next few years let alone the next few months. Aside from being not quite as avid of a reader as he probably should be, most of the British literature he’d read in school had bored him, and the thought of tackling Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works wasn’t exactly appealing.

He kept those thoughts to himself, however, and cleared his throat. “So is he your favorite?”