Title: Gavel and a Hard Place
Rating: G
Pairing: OFC x Edgeworth, Wright x Edgeworth (eventually)
Word Count: 7,749
Description: After the DL-6 trial, Edgeworth lets slip a crucial secret...which earns him a one-way ticket to Larry and co's Matchmaking Extravaganza. Hilarity ensues.
Author's Note: Joint crack fic written with queenofbatpig XD although later chapters will contain some serious moments and angst 3. I bent the timeline a little, allowing Pearl to come in early despite the fact that she doesn't show up till GS2-2 in canon. Don't worry, there's a reason for it later on.
The Wright and co. law offices had seen its share of unusual events, from spirit channeling to circus acts to downright murder on its premises. The little two-room headquarters might not seem like the type of place where battles were fought, but it was surprisingly resilient in the face of danger – not to mention 2 a.m. case meetings and at least one toxic Ramen spill of which Maya was aware. (She had a pretty good idea of who caused it. The only question was whether Nick could take himself to court).
However, on this particular day...another crime was taking place. Scattered across the main intake desk was a heap of glossy, color photographs – not of murder suspects or criminals, but women. Beautiful, model-quality women all posing with sultry smiles for the camera. Some wore silk skirts riding high up long, black boots; others leaned back against lively beach montages, two-piece swimsuits damp with sea foam as they sipped from tall, tropical fruit cocktails. All were drop-dead gorgeous.
…And all came from Larry's collection of Dateable Single Chicks to Check Out.
"Hey, Larry, how about her?" Maya waved a photo of a dark blonde with pretty, light blue eyes over at her partner-in-crime, currently perched on the edge of Phoenix's client sofa. He was busily sifting through a pile of pictures himself.
"Her?" Larry shook his head empathetically, tan curls bouncing. "No can do, Maya."
"Aw, come on!" The other pouted. "You don't like any of my suggestions!" She looked down at the stack of discarded photos by her side. At least half of those came from her slice of the matchmaking pile, divided up between the two of them. "She's so pretty," Maya insisted, "what's wrong with that?"
"…Exactly."
"Huh?" Maya blinked.
Larry's expression took on that of profound enlightenment. "That flowing, honey hair. Those inviting sky blue eyes. That voluptuous smile." He paused dramatically, then broke into a rouge-cheeked whimper. "She's exactly my type. I can't let him have her!"
Maya's own cheeks puffed out in annoyance. "You just said you're doing this for him!"
"Eheh, shouldn't people who do good get some good in return?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Larry pasted on an idiotic grin that turned into something of a sheepish simper, sweat drops rolling down the side of his face. He tried his best to look noble and selfless, but only succeeded in nearly toppling off of his seat on the couch.
Maya sighed.
I'm starting to wonder if he's just doing this for himself.
"Well, come on, do you have a suggestion then? These are friends of yours, right? You should know who'd be a good match for him."
"Well, to be honest…" He scratched the side of his head, eyes wandering off to one side. That grin returned to his face again. "I don't know any of them. I just got these photos from a friend of a friend of a friend of a – "
"Huh? I thought we're supposed to get a list of people you know."
"No good." Larry shook his head. "I've dated everyone I know. I might not look it, but I'm a gentleman. Can't let my best friend have my leftovers." He pounded his chest.
Didn't Nick say he was dumped by all his girlfriends? Can they really be counted as leftovers then? I've got to ask Nick about this.
Maya pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"Anyways, once we're done setting him up, I'll make sure to get to know all of them personally. That works just as well, right?" Larry was smiling just a little too genuinely, eyes shut cat-like in what could only be described as the Butz Leer. A sure portent of less-than-innocent insinuations behind supposedly innocuous words.
Hanging her head, Maya gave up.
He's planning to date all of them. He's really doing this just for himself.
Nevertheless, it was up to her to continue the mission, no matter what the cost. With eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, she dove back into the array of photographs, determined to find the one person perfect for the match they were plotting.
A slight creak of the door interrupted her deliberation.
"Mystic Maya, there you are!" A shy, cheerful voice called. In walked a little girl clad in purple sandals and the same Kurain spiritualist robes that Maya herself wore.
"Pearly!" Maya grinned, getting up. "You came to see me?"
"I don't have any training to do today. It's so nice out, let's go play!" Pearl fairly bounced with energy, feet tapping happily on the ground. The turquoise ball she held in her hands sprung up and down with her.
"I'm sorry, Pearly." Maya gave her cousin an apologetic smile. It was indeed a nice day outside, sunlight streaming warmly through the office's picture window. "But I'm busy right now."
"Whoa, Maya, who's that?" By now, Larry had leaped up from his seat by the tabletop, one hand still clutching a photo (Wait, was that even a photo? Or a magazine ad? Oh God, this guy was hopeless), as he smirked widely at the newcomer.
"That's my cousin, Pearl," Maya introduced. "I call her Pearly." She gave a perturbed glance at the too-wide smile and brilliantly flushed cheeks of her companion.
For some reason, I don't like the way he's looking at her…
"Pearl, eh?" Larry trailed off thoughtfully. He considered her for a second, then finally rubbed at his hair in embarrassment. "That's too bad. Well, Pearly. I'm Larry," he said as he extended a hand…perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, "but you can just call me your big brother." Maya rolled her eyes uneasily.
I'm so not going to ask.
Pearl seemed oblivious to either Larry's advances or her own cousin's distracted demeanor. Instead, her gaze was drawn to the carpet of brightly-colored photographs covering Mr. Nick's work desk. "Mystic Maya, what are you doing?" she asked, puzzled, as she lowered the ball in her hand and walked toward the messy display. "Why are you looking at all these pictures?"
Tilting her head, she tried to read the label on the back of one, scribbled in Larry's sloppy handwriting.
Beatrice
301-878-4230
(Best after 6, likes a "hot time")
Maya giggled secretively. "Well, see…Do you remember Mr. Edgeworth?" she asked.
Pearl looked up, confused. "Mr. Eh-ji-worth?"
"Yes! Larry and I – " She straightened up, clapping her hands together, beaming. "We're going to find his true love!"
…Those two words were enough to set her cousin aglow.
"True…True love?" Stars sparkled in Pearl's eyes as she blushed a deep red, hands cupped cutely around her face. The temperature in the room felt like it had risen ten degrees. Her heart pounded, terribly passionate in her ears, and it was perhaps a good thing that Maya wasn't looking behind her, because Larry's eyes had turned into pinpoints of glee.
"Oh yes, you weren't there for that party, so I guess you don't know the story." Maya smiled devilishly. "Here, let me fill you in on the details!"
--o--
A clink of glasses signaled the beginning of the festive night, jazzy music emanating from the walls as wine flowed freely and laughter filled the air. The Blue Diamond bar was a low-key place, but cozy; dim overhead lamps cast a warm glow over the carved wood paneling, illuminating a few yellowed frames of L.A. back in the day, while the jukebox in the corner served up slices of golden oldies. A menu card sat in the center of the table, emblazoned in ritzy neon ("The Rarest Jewel in the City!"), boasting a variety of colorful cocktails and good old-fashioned Heinecken beer. By this time of night, there was very little on the list that had not been ordered.
Larry raised his champagne glass in a toast all around. "Hahaha, drink up, Edgey! Tonight's the night of your life!" He downed it in one gulp, then waved at the bartender for more. After all, the tab wasn't coming out of his paycheck.
Miles managed a small smile as he sipped his own drink. "Thanks, Larry."
"That's the spirit!" The other man grinned, leaning in closer with a sly look on his face. His eyes darted from Edgeworth to several of the women hanging out in the next booth. "Say, after the children go to bed, why don't we kick this party up a notch? I know some real good places for us grown men to have fun." Winking wolfishly, he looked to his spiky-haired companion for support.
Puzzled, Maya turned to Phoenix and whispered, "Nick, what's he talking about? I have a feeling I'm being left out." She pouted around her glass of orange juice.
Phoenix did his best to avoid the glance, muttering, "Wh – Who knows?"
"Oh, come off it, pal!" Gumshoe yelled, red-faced, as he slammed his beer can onto the table. "You know Mr. Edgeworth isn't into — into that kinda…thing!" He sputtered, trying his best not to look like he had any clue what said "thing" was in the first place. Nevertheless, Phoenix caught a guilty glance in Larry's direction and an uncomfortable twitch of the finger.
Probably wondering how much more he can afford to spend tonight.
"I have to agree with Detective Gumshoe here," Miles interceded smoothly. He looked hardly ruffled by his old classmate's crass suggestion. "Let's just keep our celebration inside." Raising his own flute of champagne, he sipped elegantly from the glass, a soft smirk tugging at his lips at the dark, exotic taste. Vintage Dom Perignon Rose. A fitting drink for a fittingly celebratory night. It had been years since he'd felt this relaxed, this…unburdened, that even Larry's relentless prodding barely drew a line across his forehead.
But the Butz was persistent. "Aw, you guys are no fun," he whined, waving his glass around and nearly sloshing alcohol on Edgeworth's fine Italian suit. Definitely drunk, Phoenix thought to himself. "C'mon, Edgey, don't hold yourself back!" Wide grin pasted on his face, he nudged closer to his childhood companion, who gave him a worrying eyebrow raise at the sudden, near-intimate proximity.
"No, really — "
"You can't be a stick-in-the-mud all the time! I mean, grade school, that was back then. You wore bowties back then." Larry rolled his eyes, kicking back in his seat. He neglected to mention the piece of sixteenth century French nobleman's attire currently knotted around Edgeworth's neck like a dead marsupial. "But now? How're you gonna bang all the pretty women?"
"Ugh!" Miles choked, nearly spilling his drink.
"Bingo!" A smile of triumph spread across Larry's face. He knew if he pushed enough, he could break through old Edgey's prim and proper exterior. A man could only deny himself for so long!
"I — no, I — " Miles stuttered incoherently. "What has that got to do with anything?" he snapped in irritation, face flushed with more than alcohol.
The other man shrugged. "You've got to let loose sometimes. Live life to the fullest, like me!" Larry poked both thumbs at himself with an idiotic grin.
"I have no idea what Larry's talking about, but he's right," Maya chimed in, perky smile at the ready. "You need to learn to have fun, Mr. Edgeworth! Find a nice girlfriend, go on some romantic dates…" She trailed off, eyes taking on that starry quality that Phoenix had seen all too often in her cousin lately. Must run in the family, or something. Prudently, he avoided the direction this conversation was going, though he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Edgeworth's expression at being pinned between Larry and Maya was worth ten cross-examinations in court.
"I know soooo many girls I can hook you up with, man!" The Butz looped one arm around his victim, waving frantically at the women in the other booth – who, by now, were watching the proceedings with mixed horror and amusement. "Soon as you stop being such a workaholic."
Miles shot Phoenix a desperate glare across the table, teeth clenched below raccoon circle eyes, as he mouthed something close to a plea…but was met with nothing more than the other's faux-clueless shrug. Wright buried his nose deliberately in his drink, smiling privately at the show.
It took all of Edgeworth's self-control to bite back the 'Objection!' on the tip of his tongue.
"Really, I am not interested in that right now," he gritted out, jerking free of Larry's grasp. Smoke grey eyes fell fixedly on his champagne glass stem to the exclusion of all else in the room.
"What's the matter?" Larry asked, puzzled. Old Edgey had never looked this grim-faced before in all their childhood pranks. He stopped, surveyed his friend's expression, and Phoenix could almost hear the light bulb ping on above his head when the answer made itself clear to him. "Oh! Could it be that you've already got someone on your mind?" Larry suggested with a smirk.
The sharp glance Miles gave him was all it took to seal his fate.
"How did you come up with such an absurd idea?!" he demanded severely.
"Mr. Edgeworth, you're blushing!" Maya gasped.
"Whoa." Larry blinked, eyes wide with surprise. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"Wow, congratulations, pal!" Banging his beer can again, Gumshoe broke in with a loud chortle of amusement. "I can't believe I never noticed! Is it another prosecutor? Someone from the investigation team?" he pressed, leaning closer, foam clinging to the whiskers on his face.
"It's nothing like that."
"Come on, Mr. Edgeworth, be honest with yourself!" Maya demanded, dragging on Phoenix's sleeve to join in. Their combined efforts would surely reveal the facts!
Another desperate glance at Wright was only met with a helpless – albeit, more than a little curious – look of resignation, as Phoenix finally set his glass down and said mildly, "Yeah, Edgeworth, just tell everyone the truth."
The table fell silent, all eyes turned toward the prosecutor. Curious gazes, rapt smiles, a barely hidden gleam in the Butz's face…and Wright sitting there with that unreadably dense expression, like he'd been expecting this all along. Miles pursed his lips, gaze down, finger tapping haltingly on the gnarled wooden countertop. For the second time that day, his face took on an oddly vulnerable appearance.
"…Well, perhaps."
--o--
Pearl clapped a hand to her mouth, shocked. "Mr. Eh-ji-worth is in love?"
"Yeah, isn't that a shocker?" Maya grinned gleefully. "We were just teasing him, but then he got that serious look on his face!"
"Like a poor lost puppy, that's Edgey for you!" Larry stumbled forward melodramatically, one hand clapped to his forehead. "This is why the Great Larry Butz must come to the rescue! I'm going to find him a nice girl to be the love of his life," he vowed, winking with a thumbs up sign.
Nevertheless, a thin crease marred Pearl's forehead, as she chewed on a fingernail. "But I thought he already has someone he loves…" she said worriedly.
"See, that's the thing," Larry interjected. "I keep trying to get him to ask her out, but he won't do anything! Not even give me her name!" He threw his arms out helplessly. "All morning, he just buries his nose in a teacup and stares mournfully out the window. It's torture, I tell you!" Cheeks once again a brilliant red (although for a distinctly…different reason), he yelled, teeth gnashing like a shark, "How can a great guy like me just stand by and watch a buddy suffer?!"
Pearl raised an eyebrow at this temper tantrum from a man sixteen years her senior.
"So we're doing the next best thing," Maya continued brightly. She plucked one of the photographs from the pile on the table and presented it to Pearl. "We're going to find someone who would be perfect for him and set them up!"
"And he's going to do it?" Pearl still looked unconvinced.
Laughing, Larry explained, "I went over every day to offer my help, and finally, Edgeworth agreed. He couldn't turn down an old friend like me!" Larry puffed out his chest in pride. "He said, 'Okay, okay, Larry, please keep it down! I beg you, I'll do anything you say. Just don't bring this up anymore, okay?' The poor guy," he shook his head sadly, hair flopping forward. "He obviously wants my help so much, but was just too shy to ask."
"Wow, that's…" The stars returned once more to Pearl's eyes, this time accompanied by a lovely pink blush as visions of white steeds and floating castles danced before her. "That's so wonderful, Mystic Maya!" Her hair fairly flounced as she jumped up and down in happiness. "Helping out people in need – that's the goal of being a medium." Pushing up her sleeve, she fixed both of them with a determined look. "Please, if I can do anything, let me know! Mr. Eh-ji-worth must find his true love!"
Maya was smiling too, seeing her cousin so excited. "It's all right," she reassured, "we already got most of the details covered. See, he agreed to go on three dates, one with each person we pick. Since Larry's such an expert on dating and I know all about a young girl's feelings, we'll find a perfect match for sure!" However, her gaze turned to the swamp of pictures currently cluttering the coffee table, desk, and a good portion of the available floor space (the rest having been taken up by Nick's usual court paraphernalia). "…Thing is, though, Larry knows a lot of girls, so we're just going through all the photos right now. Picking out someone is harder than I thought."
She was about to return to her spot by the window, when Larry broke in, "Never fear! Actually, I've already got a person in mind." He whipped out a photograph…from the back of his jeans pocket.
"Whoa! Wait, how long have you had that?" Maya demanded.
"For a few days, actually." The other rubbed his neck guiltily. "I've been asking my exes for names, and Elise heard about it through a friend of a friend of that other model I asked…" Trailing off, Larry tried to connect the dots in his mind. He got as far as three degrees of separation before giving up. "She'd always wanted to date a lawyer, so she came to see if I could set her up with Edgeworth."
"Wait… then what did we go through all these photos for?"
"Well, when else am I going to get the opportunity to look through pictures of cute chicks and find my next girlfriend?"
Maya resisted the urge to smack her face repeatedly into her palm.
Does he even have Edgeworth on his mind at all?
"Well, everything's set then," she said out loud for the benefit of her cousin. "We've picked out the place, the clothes, and — " A devilish smirk spread across her lips, like the spirit medium that got the hamburger joint. She leaned over and pulled out a small, metal gadget attached to a thin wire from Nick's evidence bag. "I've got this set up."
Pearl stared questioningly at the object. "What is it?"
"It's a listening device from Detective Gumshoe. I planted it in the booth that we reserved for Mr. Edgeworth and his date. Just so, you know, we can hear all the interesting tidbits." Maya winked mischievously.
"But, isn't that wrong?" Her cousin, ever the moralist, asked anxiously.
"Of course not!" Larry laughed, clapping Pearl on the back. His rather over-the-top affection earned a surprised cry and a dirty look from Maya. "It's all for Edgey's sake. If anything goes wrong, we'll all jump in to the rescue. Isn't that right, Pearly?" he asked, leaning down to smile at the little girl.
Pearl took a step back from the crazy, loudmouthed man. "Oh… I guess." She paused, then made up her mind. "Um, in that case, may I come along too?" she asked hesitantly. "So I can help."
"Sure thing, Pearly." Maya clapped her hands together. "Now then, let's go prepare ourselves for tonight!"
--o--
The Viridian was glitzy, glamorous, and chock full of young couples linked arm in arm, whispering over vanilla-scented candles or laughing secretively to one another as they gazed out the wide, jalousie windows. Modern art decorated the walls, which were painted in varying tones of the restaurant's namesake color – a fitting choice, for the theme this month was water. Water bubbles, waterfalls, water fountains sculpted out of marble and bronze. At the center of the room stood a three-point display of crystalline mermaids that bore a plaque indicating their grateful donation from one Dee Vasquez of Global Studios.
Of course, just because the theme was water did not mean that the guests drank like fish here. On the contrary, The Viridian was known for its fine selection of quality brandy, of which Edgeworth was currently perusing.
"Is everything all right, Sir?" the waitress asked, as she set the metal tray down on the tabletop. She was new and impressionable, and the sight of the handsome young prosecutor all alone by himself made her heart flutter with adulation.
"Yes, thank you." Smoothly, Edgeworth folded the menu and took his glass from the tray.
"If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Of course." He smiled, goblet in hand, and waved her off politely. The girl blushed in surprise – she'd never thought anyone could have such beautiful eyes! – then remembered her place and swept up the tray, curtsying before scuttling off into the kitchen to tell all her waitress friends about her passionate interlude that night.
Edgeworth managed to keep the relaxed front up, despite slowly snapping inside.
I can't hold on that much longer. Why…why am I here again?
He fought the urge to just walk out at that moment, taking a sip of his cognac instead. The cravat at his neck was starting to tickle; he'd insisted on it despite Larry's protests, in return for the rose corsage Maya had been adamant on pinning to his red jacket. A gratuitous accessory, it was…tacky, in a way, and did little to ease his pollen allergies. Nevertheless, she and Pearl had pressed it on him because "it's what gentlemen wear in romantic movies!"
A short pause, and then a careful glance at his watch revealed that another minute had passed.
Already five minutes late. This is ridiculous.
Edgeworth resisted the impulse to tap his index finger impatiently against his arm. He still couldn't believe the depths of intoxication or…or foolishness that had led him to agree to such an absurd venture. A blind date with a woman of their choice? Of Larry's choice? That was about as brilliant as walking into trial late with no evidence, no witnesses, and three marks against him already from the Judge. (Which Wright often did and got away with anyway, much to his chagrin).
Of course, it was true that his childhood friend had unwittingly stumbled onto a certain…private matter of his, one which he had stupidly admitted to that night after the trial, thanks to the ensuing atmosphere of the celebration. Perhaps this was punishment, then, for rash statements better left unsaid.
Taking a final sip of his drink, Edgeworth set the glass down resolutely (Half-empty already? Since when did he become an alcoholic?)
That's it. I've had it. Larry can deal with this on his own. I'm out.
He pushed himself up from his seat, about to signal for the check and engage in a strategic retreat (the chorus of "Oh, no!" from the table two down drawing an irritated glance), when a voice interrupted him.
"That red rose…are you, perhaps, Mr. Miles Edgeworth?"
Edgeworth turned towards the origin of the question, eyes lighting on a tall, slender woman in her early twenties, honey blonde hair falling in waves around her darkly beautiful, delicate face. She was clad in an opulent dress decorated with green sequins, lace trim, and a rather…revealing halter top that was held together by nothing more than a brass ring. A matching corsage of red roses wrapped around her wrist. With a sinking feeling, Edgeworth realized that his escape was ruined.
"Ms. Elise Campbell, I presume?" He feigned a delighted smile and bowed.
The cries from the eavesdropping table had turned to hushed cheers, as echoes of "Thank God!" and "She's so pretty!" bounced back to his ears. Edgeworth did his best to put them out of his mind.
"Oh my gosh, wow!" Elise fairly gushed her delight. "Sorry, but I thought you'd be, like, a little older. Being a lawyer and all." Giggling, she twirled her handbag – Chanel, with her name printed in flowing script on the side – and extended a hand in greeting. "I'm literally at a loss for words, Mr. Edgeworth. Nice to meet you!"
"No, the pleasure is all mi — "
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Edgey," she cut him off with barely a pause. The proffered hand was clasped like a rare jewel, or perhaps a precious poodle in the starlet's grip. "Oh, I hope you don't mind me calling you Edgey. I heard Larry call you that, so I figured, you know, what a cute nickname!" She giggled again, waving teasingly at his cravat. "I really don't like formalities. You can just call me Lise as well, I'm totally fine with that."
"Yes, I — " Edgeworth tried again to slip a word in edgewise.
"Now where was I again?" Elise tapped her cheek thoughtfully with one manicured finger, settling legs crossed in a seat at the table. She didn't even seem to notice his attempts at conversation. "Oh, right…"
And she calls this a loss for words?
Edgeworth tried his best to look unperturbed, as he sat down once more in the chair opposite her.
"…my fashion advisor, it's completely his fault. I'm never late for anything, never!" Pouting her rosy red lips, Elise continued on a mile a minute. "It's a cardinal rule in modeling; ten minutes and you can just toss that cat straight off the catwalk." Her wrist flicked dismissively, bracelet jangling on her long, white arm. The menu stood untouched in front of her.
"But this evening, when I consulted Pierre – that's my advisor's name, by the way, he's so highbrow French you'd think he was born on the Eiffel Tower – he was all, 'Oh yes, darling, believe me, mauve is the new green.' Well, you know how green was the new black, right?" she asked, and Edgeworth opened his mouth in a mistaken attempt to agree. "So I'm like, of course, I totally believe you, Pierre dear. And I mean, it's Pierre, why shouldn't I trust him? So then I picked out this gorgeous little cocktail dress, Versace – it's very lovely – for the charity dinner next week. It has those…what do you call them, those trimmings? With the silk all around the corners?" This time, Edgeworth didn't bother trying to answer the rhetorical question.
"But anyway," Elise sighed, eyelashes fluttering sadly, "when I called my girlfriend Anna to tell her about it, she was all like, 'Elise, didn't you know? Mauve is so yesterday. Now, lavender is the new green!' You can imagine my shock, couldn't you, Edgey, dear?" she asked with big, liquid eyes. "Unbelievable that Pierre would do that to me. Isn't it just awful?"
A long, long pause followed, accompanied by a dramatic breast heave for sympathy. Edgeworth tried not to stare.
"My condolences — " Edgeworth offered haltingly.
He might as well not have even bothered.
"You know, now that I think about it, this wasn't the first time either." Token gesture of understanding received, Elise continued on her light speed, one-sided conversation. "God, I should fire him. I should." She pursed her lips, torn. "But oh, he's such a lovely man. Always brings those little, um, cocktail umbrellas to the club? The kind with the toothpick and the ancient Chinese on the folds?" Cupped, her hand moved up and down to indicate the length of said toothpick with…graphic results. Edgeworth felt the color rise in his cheeks at the imagery. "He has his own line of them, says he's gonna sell it from here all the way to, well, like China!" Giggling, Elise waved a hand at him and finally stopped to take a sip of his cognac. "But, still! That one time, when I got invited to the Oscars…"
Having failed in his first escape, Edgeworth now switched to plan B – mental retreat from the untold horrors of mindless babbling, by envisioning his office and all the lovely piles of paperwork stacked on his desk for the morrow. Ah yes, even misdemeanor reports looked like fascinating mysteries next to this drivel, he thought. The prosecutor's office had given him a week-long holiday after the DL-6 trial, ostensibly to allow him to "recover" from the shock…although Edgeworth was not fooled into believing the vacation was optional. The top brass were no doubt discussing his future at the moment, panicked as they were after their star prosecutor had been revealed as a murderer. Skye would no doubt handle the case – she had the backbone, if not the experience – but even so, it was hard imagining anyone facing up von Karma in court when…
Mind wandering off, Edgeworth graced the conversation with only an occasional nod or "Yes, I see" to demonstrate his rapt attention in his date's life story.
" — so that's how Claudia and I convinced Vogue that autumn '12 will totally be about pleats. Pleats, can you believe it?" Tittering, Elise stopped in her hundred mile ramble to give him a curious look. Silence. Edgeworth snapped out of his reverie, trying desperately to catch the last trails of the conversation, as he vaguely recalled something about pleats.
Was that a clothing article? Had she actually expected me to follow the history of fashion?
He was about to open his mouth to declare the saintly nature of pleats (Larry's advice: "When in doubt, just agree, man! Chicks dig that"), when Elise actually asked him a non-rhetorical question.
"So…you're a lawyer, right? That's what Larry told me."
"Yes." Edgeworth shifted uncomfortably. The sudden scrutiny was stifling. "A prosecuting attorney."
"And you deal with, umm…law stuff, right?"
"Yes…"
"You know, I have a lawyer too," Elise said perkily.
"Really?" Edgeworth attempted to look interested.
"Yeah, he waves around those papers and objects to stuff all the time."
…I think that's your manager.
An awkward silence followed again. Edgeworth reached for his drink. Elise fiddled with her menu. The waitress came by once more, but was met with only a murmur of annoyance and a flick of the wrist, as the model barely even looked at her.
"So, you like, help people fight crime and stuff?" Elise asked, after finally putting in her order for a single, low-calorie salad from the appetizer section. Edgeworth declined any food.
"That's one way to put it."
"Oh, it's like one of those shows!" Beaming, she clapped her hands together.
Edgeworth blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Hee hee, you think I don't know anything, do you? But I watch them all the time!" She seemed about ready to rev up into another mile-a-minute conversation with herself. "You know, the ones where the judge would bang that wooden thing and go, 'You owe this guy $1,000 for sleeping with his wife!' Something like that, right?"
"Ms. Campbell," Edgeworth began crossly, shocked at how his vocation was being tarnished, "I don't think you can compare — "
"Edgey, Edgey, Edgey." Elise wagged a finger at him reproachfully. "Didn't I tell you to call me Lise? See, I was wondering why I've never seen you on TV before." Her eyebrows drew together. "I do watch those shows every day. And you know, I think I've figured out why." She looked away. "No offense, Edgey dear, but…"
Suddenly, a wave of distress overtook Elise, as she clenched her fists and fixed him with a deep, soul-rending stare. "Oh! This is awful, I can't take it anymore!" She pointed a finger accusingly at his suit. "H–How could you wear that with a straight face?"
Like a sword had pierced his heart, Edgeworth nearly fell backward at the cruelty of those words.
"Ex…cuse me?" he managed to sputter out, utterly shocked.
"It's a crime, I tell you! Oh, darling…why does it have to happen to someone so handsome?" Elise's eyes became dark and liquid, like she was addressing a poor puppy dog. "That looks like it came from five centuries ago."
Edgeworth glanced down at his clothing, feeling self-conscious.
"…That?"
"Everything!" Elise yelled, throwing her hands up. "The frills, the colors, the – "
"I'll have you know that this suit is authentic Armani imported from Italy," Edgeworth snapped in indignation. It was the first time he had cut her off this evening, and the feeling was oddly satisfying. There was only so much a man could stand.
But Elise merely shook her head. "Trust me, Edgey. I know a disaster when I see one, and this one's staring at me straight in the face." She thought to herself for a bit. "Oh, I tend to block them from my memory. That's probably why I couldn't remember you."
…Few things could have hurt Edgeworth worse.
Cross-examinations, he could rebuke. Inquiry committees, he could weather. But Edgeworth balked at the personal attack on his pride – his custom-tailored red jackets, the signature outfit that had accompanied him through the courtroom from the first days of his career. Irritation knotted his brow, as he glanced to one side…and caught a wave from a suspiciously familiar purple-robed hand two tables down. Maya mouthed for him to go with the flow.
Swallowing his venom, Edgeworth replied stiffly, "In that case, I must apologize for my unfortunate appearance." The lie wounded him as much as any penalty in court would. At least this is an opportunity to escape from this disastrous mess. Standing up, he offered an icy hand to the other woman. "It's been a wonderful evening, and I'm terribly sorry that I have disappointed you. Perhaps it's time I — "
"Listen, Edgey." Elise took his hand and stood up as well, but with an entirely different plan on her mind. "I know a little place just a few blocks from here. Lovely boutique, very upscale. I'll make you all better, trust me."
"Wait, I — "
But she was already waving for the bill. His retreat foiled, Edgeworth could only watch helplessly as Elise signed off on the tab and then proceeded to drag him out the restaurant, toward her limousine, which was waiting patiently at the sidewalk. No escape now. Any hope of extricating himself without a scene was dashed at the sight of the dark-glassed bodyguard by the door – who spared him a less than pleasant glance as, across the street, Larry gave the thumbs up sign.
This was going to be a long night…
--o--
The boutique lay just a few street corners down from The Viridian, no doubt banking on romantic couples and rich clientele from the restaurant to draw in business. Its crystal and glass windows – tinted a fashionable rose – displayed mute mannequins in various stages of dress (or undress, depending on how one viewed it), flaunting the latest fashions lines. Hermes, Valentino, Dolce and Gabbana…they were all here, all just a credit card away from any shapely body that might walk in with money-burning purposes on her mind.
Edgeworth squinted disturbingly at a sheer, skin-tight purple top lined with a fur collar and cut off halfway up the chest. He had trouble telling which gender said article was for.
"Ms. Elise, this way," the employee – a young man in his twenties – fairly bowed, directing them to a private corner of the boutique. A few customers turned and stared as well, no doubt awed by the appearance of such a celebrity in their midst.
Elise held her head up high, pausing deliberately by her namesake collection near the center of the store to drive the point home further. Edgeworth glanced at it, then quickly looked away. The rather…garishly colorful set of pencil thin dresses (in every possible tone of pink and green) made him wince, and the effect was compounded by the blazing neon cursive spelling out "Campbell" above the rack, arranged so that the first letter traced the very bottom of Ms. Campbell's…back in the titular photograph of the fashion line.
Edgeworth hurried to catch up with their guide, who led them into a lavishly decorated lounge at the back – one whose privilege clearly was reserved for the top patrons.
"I hope you enjoy your stay." He bowed again. "If there's anything we can do, the bell, as you know, is just a step away." Before Edgeworth could say a word (such as where the fire escape might be and if compensation existed for retina burn by way of ungodly color fetish), the man was gone.
Resignation set in deep and embittering.
He walked over to a collection of casual suits, sifting distractedly through them as he kept an eye out for Elise. For the time being, she was quiet, sufficiently absorbed in comparing different brands of gaudy swimwear to start in on another fashion tirade. Edgeworth shook his head. Well, he supposed he would just have to make the best of the situation. Ducking out now simply wasn't an option. Although the boutique was a bit over-the-top in its tastes (as the half-naked model on the wall could attest), it did offer several high-end professional styles that were to his liking. In particular, this bone white Yamamoto vest had a certain spare elegance to it…
"Look at this, Edgey!" Elise interrupted his browsing with a shirt she produced gleefully off the rack. "What do you think?"
Edgeworth cringed at the sight. "Isn't that... pink?"
"Edgey dear, that's why I told you to leave this to me." Elise rolled her eyes. "It's not pink, obviously. Peach, honey, peach." She emphasized it by holding the shirt up to Edgeworth's chest, squinting seriously as she appraised the merits of the match.
"I can tell these kinds of things, you know. The last boyfriend I dated? Totally goldenrod," she waved flirtatiously, picking up a pair of pants. "I had a theme going for him – goldenrod shirt, goldenrod slacks, and of course goldenrod ties. I think I even had a matching goldenrod gown to wear to dinner with him once." She tapped her cheek thoughtfully, then shrugged. "It's not exactly my color, but still such a nice theme! I love having everything go perfectly together in a theme. Pierre doesn't agree, of course, but — Well, that's Pierre for you." She laughed. "I wonder sometimes what I'd do with him if he didn't bring all those lovely little umbrellas. Oh yes, Edgey, my point is I think you're totally a peachy person."
By now, her arms were filled with every possible article of clothing resembling a light orange shade.
Edgeworth sighed. "Lise, to be honest, this isn't exactly my style…" He tried to back away from the overly enthusiastic clothes fitting, each more outrageous than the next.
"And that's what I keep telling you!" Elise ignored his protests. "You've really got to catch up with the times, you know." Smiling, she deposited the finished outfit – complete with visor and pink-tinted sunglasses – into his arms. "I've got all the accessories picked out too; nothing can go wrong with this set. Just try it," her voice rocked low and seductive. "Please?"
…Resignedly, Edgeworth took the garments.
I suppose I can humor her just once and be done with this.
He entered the changing room, and a few minutes later, a stifled groan came from his lips. Reluctantly, Edgeworth stepped out into the light – the bright modeling spotlight – and tried his best not to look like a reject from the Cirque du Soleil tour. He succeeded, if only because even a circus clown wouldn't wear pants as tight and…form-fitting as the striped, peach slacks currently clinging to his waist. The matching dress shirt (if one could call it that) – open neck, with some sort of…tiger stripes on the collar – tapered down into a belt that felt like it had been stripped straight off the back of an alligator. His visor slid down heavily, making him wonder what the point of the tinted sunglasses was anyway.
I swear, Chief of Police Gant has an identical pair of these somewhere.
To any other person, the sour look on Edgeworth's face might have been discouraging, but Elise merely clapped her hands delightedly. "My, that's just how I'd imagined it! Only…" She leaned in and wrapped a long, silk scarf embroidered with curly script around his neck. "One final touch."
If there was any doubt in his mind that things couldn't get worse, they were now dashed.
"Perfect!" Smiling, she stepped back. "What do you think, Edgey?"
"Erm…"
"Have you looked in the mirror yet?"
"Believe me, Lise, I have," Edgeworth replied between gritted teeth.
"Are you sure?" Elise blinked questioningly, and proceeded to pull up the full length mirror anyway. "Here, give it a little spin, would you?"
"I don't know about that." Miles tried his best to avert his eyes.
"You know, the other guy I used to date… Gerald. Gerald was his name, I believe." Elise nodded to herself. "He doesn't just spin. He'd have all these cute little poses, where he'd lean back a bit like this, have his arms up…" She tossed her head to demonstrate. "Sometimes he'd give a little squeal, you know, when he's happy. Of course, he's always happy about it because I picked out everything. Oh, he was so adorable." Elise brought her hand up to her lips, giggling. "Gee, I can't remember why we broke up."
On the contrary, I have a pretty good idea.
"Now where was I? Oh yes, don't be shy! Here." Straightening, she got behind Edgeworth and turned him around again to face the mirror. "Take a good look at yourself, Edgey! Now tell me what you think," she tittered in his ear, breast heaving, arms about his waist.
Edgeworth merely grimaced. "Really, Lise, I don't think this is working out," he managed to reply. In fact, none of this was working out. What should have been a simple dinner date had somehow spiraled into his worst nightmare ever, compounded by the fact that this woman's sense of style apparently derived from a mutilated Picasso painting.
At least Larry and Maya can't see this…this utter humiliation.
"Oh, well then," Elise shrugged, "let's try the next one."
Edgeworth blinked.
"…There's more?"
The other only grinned and handed him another set of outfits. "Who do you think I am, Edgey? I always have a backup plan. Like that one time — "
"Yes, I think I'll definitely try this," Edgeworth interrupted hurriedly, ducking into the dressing room. For all the embarrassment this was causing him…anything was still preferable to Elise's interminable monologue.
A minute later, he regretted his words.
"Oh, my!" Grinning seductively at the sight, Elise approached him with a sultry smile. "This certainly is very… pleasing to the eye, to say the least." She cast a slow gaze over the sheer mesh shirt, the leather jacket, the black rawhide pants that fit so snugly around her date's cute tush – with enhancing effects in front as well. A red-nailed finger came up to run along the other's bare chest, sending a shiver through Edgeworth's spine. "I'm quite impressed."
Miles edged slowly away. "Lise…you do remember that I am a lawyer, right?" He tried for diplomacy. "I have to represent myself respectably."
"Hmm?" Elise blinked, completely lost. "I don't see anything wrong."
She honestly thinks I can go to court in this outfit? I wouldn't even step inside the detention center!
"We're just gonna have to test this outfit out now, won't we?" Skipping backward, she settled into one of the plush lounge couches and leaned back, smirking at the view. "How about you walk a little?"
"I think I've walked enough in this…"
"No, not just regular walking." Elise shook her head. "You know, like a model on a catwalk." She demonstrated with two fingers looping lightly in the air. One kicked, ending in a split leg pose.
"…I really, really don't know about that." Edgeworth coughed, red-faced.
"Aww, come on. Just a little, please? I used to do it all the time, you know. Once I had this guy, Rob — "
"I'll do it!" Awkwardly, Edgeworth began walking around the dressing area, self-consciousness rocketing to new levels every time he landed a step and the pants shifted low down his waist. The belt loop chafed much too tightly; the boots pushed him up to an unnatural swagger, as if he were some sort of – sort of dog staking its claim to a territory. He could barely make it to the other side of the lounge without wanting to grab a robe, a towel, anything to cover this mortification up.
"Is...Is that enough?" Edgeworth asked rigidly.
"Hmm, I can't tell anything yet. Why don't you turn around?"
Reluctantly, Edgeworth did, feeling the leather bunch up embarrassingly around his…thighs.
"Nice, nice. Very nice." Elise beamed, pleased with herself. "Now bend forward just a little…"
That's it. I'm going to have to end this right now.
"Look, perhaps it's time to call it a da — "
"Let's try something else now," Elise interrupted him, turning with two new disasters in her hands. "Which one's next? The salmon one or this magenta outfit?"
Ugh! She's…even more persistent than Wright during cross-examination!
"I'd go for the salmon myself," Elise continued. "The colors even match your — "
Edgeworth raised his voice. "I think I'm done, Lise." He frowned pointedly.
Elise pouted. "Ehhhh? But we're not even at the best part yet!" She grabbed his hand. "After this, there's still the boxers!"
"Boxers…" Edgeworth blanched, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground. "Wh—WHAT?"
"Oh! Tee hee, of course." Elise giggled naughtily. "You're a briefs person, aren't you?"