"Do you like swing, Phoenix?"
The attorney was barely coming to, and already questions were being barked at him. Something was wrong. Whatever he was lying on didn't resemble the discount texture of the couch back at Wright and Co.. Everything felt a bit comfier, smelled a bit nicer, sounded a little quieter; nothing like the constant business he was accustomed to. An attempt at mumbling out an answer to the question came out as an incoherent groan, rubbing his eyes and coming to a slow stand. He could see no one in his direct line of sight, taking note of the red-and-black checkerboard tile of the cramped room. Aside from a piano in the center, there wasn't much to observe, aside from a few cushy chairs here and there.
"Down here, Mister Attorney." Phoenix jolted, eyes darting to below him where he stumbled upon a demon-looking gent, with a broad, toothy grin stretched across his oblong face. The small thing was dressed in a black tuxedo and dress pants that looked twice as spiffy as Phoenix's usual get-up of a blue suit and tie. It was a walking oxymoron, composing himself in a tidy manner that betrayed his impish appearance. "Pleasure to meet you, truly." An outstretched red hand reached to Wright, who awkwardly reciprocated it and shook it for a moment, not particularly eager to make physical contact with the little demon.
"If you don't mind me asking..." He scratched his chin, unsure of which of his several questions to blurt out first. "...Where are we, right now?"
The little demon shrugged with his oversized hands, maintaining an aura of cool about him. "Would it make a difference if I told you?"
"O-Of course!" The desire to know is part of human nature, and Phoenix was no exception—actually sort of a sore thumb in that regard.
"Well, it's not within driving distance of Wright and Co., I'll tell you that."
Phoenix blinked, slowly becoming more concerned. "We'll see about that." He scanned around for the nearest door, spotting one just behind where he woke.
"Have a look for yourself." The demon challenged, which could only mean the worst. The attorney's hand twisted the knob, flinging it open to satisfy the fear within.
"You've gotta be kidding." Phoenix Wright, in his career, had witnessed and experienced just about everything. After being framed for murder, cross-examining a parrot, battling a loan shark, and receiving whip lashings in court, one would assume he'd be used to the strange and abnormal. But even the most jaded of men get unnerved when they open a regular old door only to see the vastness of deep, black space before them. He slammed the door shut, not wanting to be absorbed into the utter nothingness.
"Now you see my point." The imp closed his eyes and crossed his arms with the same ever-present smirk, looking quite pleased with himself.
After a drawn-out silence, the lawyer had all but a few words. "...Where's Maya?"
A guttural chuckle rumbled from the imp. "Your assistant? You're worrying about her? Look at you, Wright! We're not even on the same astral plane as Earth, or at least your Earth." Before Phoenix could interject, the demon rambled on. "I know, I know. This is the part where you say 'pinch me, I'm dreaming', but I assure you that this is one-hundred percent real. And to answer your next question, I don't know how long it will take for you to leave. Probably within a few days, maybe a week."
"Hmm..." With all things considered, the tense feeling within Wright began to ease, little by little. Maybe a few days of solitude would do him some good. Hopefully, Edgeworth and Maya wouldn't grow too overworked over his disappearance. The demon said it himself—it couldn't be more than a week, could it? Besides, with the time given, he would eventually come up with a half-decent excuse once he got back.
The well-dressed imp pointed a finger in Phoenix's direction, grabbing his attention. "I'll ask again, Mister Wright. Do you like swing?"
"U-Um..."
"I'll presume that to be a yes. 'Wright' this way, please." He lead the way, walking along the checkered floor before coming to a stop at a crimson curtain. The demon opened the way, allowing Phoenix to enter first, doing so with only slight reluctance.
"A bar?" The joint was empty, save for the pink-haired bartender behind the counter, but just as the demon had promised, a static-laden swing record played in the background. It was catchy, but not quite enough to put him in a jovial mood, with nobody to enjoy it with. The demon guided him further, brushing past empty tables and booths until they hit the one lit spot in the entire bar: a poker table, with four chairs neatly circled. One was already pulled out for him, and the imp gestured for him to take a seat. Wright tugged at his collar, shaking his head with a faked smile.
"I-I'm not really a gambler, so I'll pass on this one."
For once, the gracious host stopped smiling. "What was that?"
Despite the demon's tiny stature, Phoenix almost immediately sat down, not wishing to incur his potential wrath. Just like that, his grin returned as if nothing had happened, swaying to the music happily. "Well then. The other guests should be arriving soon. Make yourself comfortable." He snapped with an offbeat rhythm, departing behind the curtains without another word.
"Wait!" By the time he objected, however, the demon was gone. Phoenix sighed, collapsing onto the table as he attempted to process all of the new information thrown at him. Other guests...? You could at least give me a hint here... Though, as much as he liked the idea of getting to the bottom of his predicament, the dull tones of the phonograph convinced him to rest his heavy bones, and give into the swing, shutting off his brain to enjoy the experience.