The Demon Prosecutor

((OOC: Backdated to the morning of July 15th comm time.))



Waking up to warmth wasn’t a familiar experience for Edgeworth. Not that he ever woke up cold—of course his apartment was kept consistently at a temperature that would be comfortable for both its human and canine occupants—but since Sieghard had been relegated again to the floor at his bedside, Edgeworth hadn’t found his sleep quite so immersed in heat. The sensation stirred something in the back of his semi-conscious mind, a memory that was thick and heavy in a comforting way. He embraced it, unguardedly, a contented smile crossing his lips as he rolled toward the source of the warmth and languidly wrapped one arm around it.

This was most assuredly something he could become accustomed to.