Out of all the complex derivatives of logic, nothing could have ever prepared him for what landed on his Prosecutor's office doorstep.
Edgeworth's eye twitched slightly as he held the neatly folded poster paper. It was about the size of an average birthday or Christmas card. The letter was tucked in an equally eggshell colored envelope and wrapped with a delicate cord of pink laced ribbon.
After steeling his nerves against what could possibly be inside, he undid the frilly trim and thumbed open the card.
The handwriting left much to be desired – a script of what barely resembled calligraphy was printed on the lower of the two halves. A few vaguely minimalist pictures were drawn on the top half as well, leaving hardly any of the milky white paper showing.
All and all, it was definitely childish scrawl made by someone barely ten years old – and he didn't need his clean-cut prosecutor's deductive reasoning for that. Although he did chuckle slightly to himself upon believing initially that Wright was the one who wrote it.
Sighing, he read aloud, deciphering the inked lettering and pausing frequently to sound out phonetically spelled words.
Dear Mr. Edgeworth,
You are cord-jelly invite-ed
To the 1st ann-u-all
Wright and Co.
PLAY!
Doors open at 8:00pm
Gatewater Hotel.
An eyebrow kinked upward slightly at the mention of 'play' and 'Gatewater Hotel'. Surely a child did not have such instruments at their disposal.
Lined paper caught his attention as he attempted to replace the folded card inside the envelope. Carefully he withdrew the article and unfurled it.
This item seemed slightly less childish and the attempt at grammar was much improved over the last bit he just read. His brow furrowed as he picked through the text.
'Edgeworth,
Sorry about this 'artistic' invitation. I just got through telling Pearl about school since she's never been there before. You know, how they do homework and how there are so many other kids there… you remember those days, right? Anyway, I told her about how they would have school performances…she became so set on the idea of making a play that no one could stop her (Maya didn't help, either). I felt bad because she's been deprived of the experience, so I let her set up this play.
I know it's a lot to ask, but could you come? You can't believe how determined she was on making sure everybody attends this. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you – you name it.
Sincerely,
Phoenix Wright'
Hmh. It figured that Wright would have something to do with it.
Sitting down in the luxurious leather chair at his desk, Edgeworth had begun the process of letting his mind flit through various responses to the defense attorney's request.
He did feel bad for the girl, not being raised in a proper manner.
Surely the last thing he wanted to do was entertain a child by attending some grotesquely immature rendition of…of –
Wait.
The invitation did not even get so far as to explain what the event was about.
Flipping through the card again, the only additional piece of information was the 'cast' section listed on the very back of the invitation. It read; Pearl, Maya, and Mr. Nick…?
For a few moments he visualized a classic theatre production seen on movies or commercials were children were dressed in some sort of human/plant dimorphic creature, singing off-key to a score wrote specifically for springtime connotation; the vision abruptly halted when his imagination derailed and the thought of Wright also dressed in said costume loomed in his mind.
"Ugh…" he breathed outward, reflexively placing a hand to his temple.
Did he really want to subject himself to that?
Somewhere the thought of Wright making a fool of himself pleased Edgeworth – though he would never go so far as to announce it.
The last line of Wright's note seemed to clinch his decision.
I'll make it up to you – you name it.
A smile spread across his face. To see Wright make a fool of himself and be indebted by him…may prove to be interesting.