samuraiprosecutor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
samuraiprosecutor) wrote2007-11-26 08:20 pm
samuraiprosecutor) wrote2007-11-26 08:20 pm
Entry tags:
- ic,
- phoenix wright,
- rl,
- sick
[RL 5: Home Invasion; Phoenix, Edgeworth] [Backdated]
((OOC: Backdated to Monday evening, follow-up to this thread and their conversation in it.))
At first he didn't hear the knocking; the sound of it was drowned out by that of Edgeworth rather loudly blowing his nose - an act which, oddly enough, lasted just the duration of the knock. There was about a half a minute of silence (that strange, muffled silence that resulted from clogged ears) in which Edgeworth turned back to the work on his monitor.
The lines were blurring, and had been for the past hour. He rubbed roughly at the bridge of his nose, cursing the pounding in his forehead; the headache had developed around the time he'd last posted on his online journal, and he had no doubt there was a connection.
This time, when the knock sounded from the front door, he heard it.
'Who in the world...' Brows furrowing, he stood (a bit more shakily than he would have liked) and threw on the robe that had been left hanging on the back of his chair. He hurried to the foyer, face already assuming an expression calculated to drive away the unwanted solicitor, and yanked open the door.
At first he didn't hear the knocking; the sound of it was drowned out by that of Edgeworth rather loudly blowing his nose - an act which, oddly enough, lasted just the duration of the knock. There was about a half a minute of silence (that strange, muffled silence that resulted from clogged ears) in which Edgeworth turned back to the work on his monitor.
The lines were blurring, and had been for the past hour. He rubbed roughly at the bridge of his nose, cursing the pounding in his forehead; the headache had developed around the time he'd last posted on his online journal, and he had no doubt there was a connection.
This time, when the knock sounded from the front door, he heard it.
'Who in the world...' Brows furrowing, he stood (a bit more shakily than he would have liked) and threw on the robe that had been left hanging on the back of his chair. He hurried to the foyer, face already assuming an expression calculated to drive away the unwanted solicitor, and yanked open the door.