Phoenix Wright has no idea how easy it is to tell what he's thinking simply by looking in his eyes.
He doesn't know about the way his eyes flash in court when he's found a contradiction, or the determination that shows in them when he knows someone isn't guilty and is going to prove it. Nor does he know about the way that his eyes widen and then abruptly narrow and dart around nervously when he's run himself into a hole during a case, or the wide, almost shy look they take on when he's embarrassed or proud of himself over the work he's done for a client.
Phoenix never pays attention to how vivid the blue in his eyes is, or how bright they seem when he's happy. He doesn't know about the way his squiggled eyebrows twitch in thought when he's confused.
Phoenix has no idea how much Miles Edgeworth enjoys admiring his eyes, how often he muses over that particular shade of blue. He doesn't know how many times the prosecutor focuses on them during testimony, when he should actually be observing the witness's face for some sign of nervousness where Phoenix might try to point out a contradiction, or how many times Edgeworth has scolded himself over staring at a newspaper with Phoenix's picture on it, looking at that satisfied, tired smile he wears after finally winning a trial.
In the same vein, Edgeworth has no idea how confused Phoenix gets when trying to read his expression. His eyes seem constantly narrowed in some manner of scowl or smirk; only during moments of annoyance or outrage do they widen. His lips are constantly pressed in a thin, condescending line.
Edgeworth certainly has no idea how many lame jokes Phoenix has cracked in an attempt to make that thin line curve into a smile.
He is unaware of how much he's admired, and not just by Phoenix, for the way he can keep such a straight, intimidating expression even when the pressure is so thick most men would snap under it like twigs.
He doesn't know how many times his face has been studied by the opposing counsel while he's reading his opening statement, his face holding a quiet confidence over the argument he prepared for the trial; he doesn't know about the way his lips twitch subtly when he thinks he's won the case, or how much Phoenix likes that quirk.
Edgeworth has no idea how many minutes Phoenix has wasted thinking up questions about whatever case they're on, just for a chance to see his face again.