Miles Edgeworth really wasn't sure this was such a good idea, or why he'd agreed to it in the first place. He stood outside the bar and pondered the neon OPEN sign.

Wright had been correct, of course – he didn't have any plans for New Year's Eve. He rarely did, and since he was in the middle of a case that reconvened on the 2nd he had intended to spend the evening and following day going over his notes and checking the evidence. Unfortunately though, Wright's call yesterday had caught him just as he was about to leave his office. He was running late and keenly aware that he had a hungry dog at home waiting for dinner. As a result, he hadn't been concentrating on the conversation as well as he might and the invitation had taken him by surprise.

His protestations about having work to do had merely been met by the cheery assertion that a quick drink in the early evening wouldn't do any harm and he'd had no good answer to that. Afterwards, of course, he could think of a multitude of reasons why it wasn't a good idea, but etiquette wouldn't allow him to call back after the fact with a spurious excuse. He sighed. Life had been so much less complicated before Wright came back – defence attorneys had gone out of their way to avoid him rather than call him and ask him out for drinks. Well at least it's not a meal. God knows where Wright might have dragged him and the idea of having to exchange small talk over a plateful of overcooked pasta was frankly horrific. At least this way it would be over sooner.

Phoenix Wright sat in a small booth opposite the bar and contemplated the dregs of a bottle of beer on the table in front of him. He wasn't quite sure why he felt quite so nervous about seeing Edgeworth again - maybe because last time he'd failed so completely as a host by having no drink in the house and then fallen asleep while his guest was out buying his own. He had convinced himself that in the social circles Edgeworth was used to, it was probably an unforgivable sin. And then of course there was the fact that the two of them had barely shared a word outside of court for fifteen years.

He was actually quite surprised that Edgeworth hadn't just told him to go to hell. Phoenix didn't suppose that his successful defence of the prosecutor in court would have earned him any special consideration. In fact he suspected that the defeat he'd handed Edgeworth in the trial just prior to that probably still rankled with the man. He probably thinks I'm his nemesis after I ruined his perfect trial record.

They'd made tentative steps towards getting back on speaking terms the day that Edgeworth was released from the Detention Centre. But that had been a couple of days ago when the prosecutor was at a disadvantage. Edgeworth had just spent a nightmarish week having his personal life paraded through court and across newspaper headlines. Today things might be different.

Still – Edgeworth had agreed to meet him and at least this time Phoenix knew that they'd have something to drink. If he was completely honest, he was most interested in checking that the prosecutor was doing okay since the trial. Edgeworth had looked unusually haggard in the aftermath and Phoenix had keen memories of his own lack of ability to cope with a similarly horrific personal betrayal when he'd been at college. I don't know if I'll be sorry or relieved if he sits there and tells me to take my drink and shove it. At least I'll know he's alright.

He was still pondering his beer when he became aware of a tall figure standing to his left. He looked up. Edgeworth. It was almost a relief when he noted that the prosecutor had a recognisably normal expression of polite disgust on his face.

"Couldn't you have chosen somewhere a bit more salubrious, Wright?"

"What's wrong with this place? The prices are good, and the service is fast."

"I'm not surprised. There's hardly anyone here and considering it's New Year's Eve that doesn't bode well for its reputation." Edgeworth's sweeping glance of disdain took in the whole of the bar and its patrons, including the defence attorney.

"Would you have preferred to go somewhere full of people wearing fancy dress and trying to get you to sing Auld Lang Syne?" Edgeworth's tight-lipped expression indicated that he wasn't amused. I can see this is going to be a good evening.

"I can't stay too long Wright. I'm in court the day after tomorrow and I have a lot of preparation to do." Edgeworth made no move to take off his coat.

Great. He's barely through the door and he's already thinking about leaving. Phoenix sighed and stood up. "Let me buy you a drink. It's the least I can do after the other day. When you've had it you can get home to your papers and I won't feel like I still owe you."

Owe me? Edgeworth was puzzled for a moment. He supposed Wright was referring to the bottle of Scotch he'd bought the other day. That kind of thinking was typical of Wright, who seemed not to have matured in his outlook at all since their schooldays. "Very well." He scanned the selection behind the bar to assess what was the safest option. "Gin and tonic will be fine."

While Wright went to buy the drinks, Edgeworth removed his overcoat and eased himself into the booth. He surveyed the plastic-covered seat and tatty tabletop with distaste, checking for sticky patches and rolling up his white shirtsleeves before placing his elbows on the wood. He tried to ignore the cigarette burns on the seat beside him, then placed his folded overcoat over them so they didn't intrude on his vision accidentally. Really, this is probably the level of sophistication I should have expected from everything I've heard about Wright.

The defence attorney returned from the bar with their drinks and placed Edgeworth's on a napkin in front of him. Edgeworth looked at it suspiciously. At least the glass looks clean and the ice isn't cloudy.

Phoenix resumed his seat on the other side of the booth. Edgeworth seemed pre-occupied with stirring his gin and tonic, so Phoenix took the opportunity to check him out. The dark rings around the prosecutor's eyes were still apparent, but other than that he seemed to be in good shape. Although I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing him in jeans.

Edgeworth didn't look up but seemed aware of the scrutiny. "Is my wardrobe of particular interest to you Wright? You had a similar expression on your face the other day."

"Uh. Sorry. You just look … different … when you're not wearing the cravat." Phoenix gestured vaguely, beer in hand.

"Indeed" was Edgeworth's only response.

"Why do you wear that get-up in court anyway?"

"Get-up? " Edgeworth's steel grey eyes narrowed somewhat dangerously.

Shit. Phoenix felt unable to back out of this topic now he'd started it. "You know, your pink suit, the cravat …"

"It's burgundy. And I wear it because I like it. And because it's how I like to be regarded in court …".

"What - frilly?" Phoenix couldn't help grinning.

Edgeworth pointedly ignored the interruption " …flamboyant." His eyebrow quirked as he looked at Phoenix "Why do you wear that blue thing? Aside from it being the best you can afford, that is."

Phoenix was wrong-footed by the sudden redirection. "Uh. Well. The Chief, I mean Mia, said that blue matched my eyes and made them show up better." He coloured slightly as he said it, realising how silly it sounded. He busied himself by taking a long drink of his beer and glancing round the bar in an attempt to look nonchalant.

Edgeworth was silent and when Phoenix looked back he saw a familiar smirk on the prosecutor's face "She did, did she? Miss Fey really was a very clever woman."

"What??" Phoenix bristled. "What's the joke? I've never been able to choose clothes. I'm useless at it. I have no idea what looks good. So sue me. And don't smirk at me like that Edgeworth, we're not in court."

"Wright." Edgeworth looked as if he was in two minds whether to continue but seemed to be similarly unable to get off the subject "Have you ever wondered why she might have considered it an advantage for your eyes to "show up better" in court?"

"Um, well … not really. I think it was more just a general suggestion I wear more blue, really." Phoenix's voice tailed off as he noticed that Edgeworth still looked amused.

"I don't think that's what she was driving at, Wright. She was encouraging you to trade on your strengths in a trial. When you really believe in something – in your client, or in the evidence - your conviction shines through in your eyes. It's really quite compelling."

Phoenix was surprised by Edgeworth's poetical turn of phrase and it seemed Edgeworth was too because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his eyes dropped back to his drink and he resumed stirring. It seemed to Phoenix that there was an air of embarrassment in the gesture although the prosecutor's face was expressionless.

"Of course, you may be right. She may just have thought you looked hot in blue".

This time Phoenix blushed properly and Edgeworth looked ever so slightly smug. You sarcastic bastard. Well, at least we're talking.

"So, how have you been since I last saw you, Edgeworth?"

"Perfectly fine." Edgeworth's face resumed its usual guarded and slightly pained expression. The defence attorney sighed inwardly. Normal service has returned then. But Phoenix wasn't going to give up that easily.

"I was, uh, surprised that you went back to work so quickly."

Edgeworth felt uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was taking. He was rarely at ease discussing his personal circumstances and lately even less so. He sipped his gin and tonic. Passable. "Why? I'm a prosecutor. It's what I do." It's what I am, for better or worse. "Sitting around at home doesn't pay the bills."

Phoenix could see he was getting nowhere with his solicitous enquiries. Yeah, like you have trouble paying the bills, Edgeworth. You should see my pile of final demands. "I guess."

An awkward silence fell across the table. Phoenix waited for the prosecutor to break it first because he was at a loss himself to think of safe conversational ground. Is this what I waited fifteen years for? He picked at the label on his bottle of beer and glanced around the bar again. He almost wished that someone he knew would come in but it seemed unlikely. Larry was in the Caribbean with the current love of his life and most people he knew would probably be getting ready to go to parties with family and friends. Not hanging about in bars with people they barely know any more.

"How's the G&T?" Phoenix asked finally, feeling defeated.

"Passable". Edgeworth sounded less than enthusiastic.

Ooo-kay. "Larry asked me to say hi, by the way". It was a lie, but at least it was something to say and from Phoenix's point of view it was an improvement on the pointed silence.

Edgeworth looked surprised. "Did he? I can't imagine why – I only spoke to him two days ago."

Phoenix did a double-take. You spoke to Larry? What?

"He called my office from the Caribbean." Edgeworth grimaced. "There was some … female … twittering in the background - his latest femme de couer, I presume. I think he was … a little inebriated."

Phoenix couldn't resist a smile at the thought of Edgeworth taking that call through the receptionist at the Prosecutor's Office. "Yes, he often is when he's off on modelling shoots with his lady-friends. What did he want?"

There was a long pause.

"I have absolutely no idea. Something about a photograph. He was … somewhat incoherent." Edgeworth's mildly confused expression almost caused Phoenix to choke on a mouthful of beer mid-gulp. They looked at one another across the table and this time Edgeworth was the one who smiled. "If something smells …"

"… it's usually the Butz". Phoenix finished, smiling himself in response.

This time the silence that followed their conversation was less intimidating, and Phoenix decided to stay on safer ground when he broke it.

"So, tell me about the case you're working on – assuming it's not against the law to discuss something with the enemy."

An hour later they exited the bar to find that the once-empty street was now filled with revellers on their way to parties and dressed in all manner of garish and ridiculous outfits. Luckily it meant that there were also plenty of cabs going in both directions and Phoenix was relieved. He wasn't sure that he could afford to pay the fare for a round trip given that Edgeworth lived at the opposite end of town from him and he was reluctant to let the prosecutor see how dire his financial straits were.

Edgeworth looked as if he was preoccupied with his own thoughts again and Phoenix supposed he was already starting to consider the piles of papers that he had waiting at home.

"Thanks for letting me buy you that drink Edgeworth. I feel better about the other day now." The prosecutor gestured dismissively. "Good luck with the trial – it sounds as if you'll have it pretty much sewn up." Phoenix spotted a cab for hire and was about to raise his arm when Edgeworth's voice stopped him.

"Wright?"

Phoenix turned.

"Thank you."

What?

Phoenix looked at the prosecutor blankly, and that seemed to make Edgeworth think he needed to say more. The prosecutor looked slightly embarrassed. "For the … company, I mean. Sometimes I think I'm alone with my thoughts too often." The last sentence came out in a bit of a rush and Phoenix could tell that it had been an effort for the prosecutor to make what was, for him, a devastatingly personal revelation. Phoenix felt himself blush slightly on Edgeworth's behalf.

"Yeah. For a prosecutor, you're not bad company yourself."

They stood opposite one another for a moment longer, and this time it was Phoenix that held out his hand and Edgeworth that took it. It was a formal gesture of farewell, but it felt comfortable.

The prosecutor turned on his heel and as he crossed the road Phoenix called out over the noise of the traffic "Hey Edgeworth – Happy New Year!" Maybe he imagined it, but he thought Edgeworth winced slightly, and it was Phoenix Wright's turn to smirk. "Taxi!"

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!

And gies a hand o' thine!

And we'll tak a right gude-wullae-waught,

for auld lang syne.

- TRAD.