They stood in the foyer of the court together, waiting for the rain to die down a little more. Another victory for Wright against Edgeworth; but Edgeworth didn't care about winning anymore. The year spent soul searching had taught him that just finding the truth of the matter was good enough for him now. Yet, there had been something—no, there was something — off about the spiky-haired man—he couldn't put his finger on it—but it annoyed Edgeworth to no end. Now, he surreptitiously examined the blue-suited lawyer next to him. Edgeworth's eyebrow twitched imperceptibly as the realisation suddenly struck.
"Wright."
"Hmm?" The spiky-haired man replied absently, still staring into the rain.
"You're taller than me today." The voice was laced with sweet acid.
Wright stiffened, blanched and tried to laugh it off, "Um, yes, so?"
His pretence at innocence didn't work on Miles Edgeworth, and the latter glared at him.
Wright blustered, "I was always taller than you—"
"—In grade school. Last time I checked, I was at least two centimetres taller."
Wright shuffled his feet. Edgeworth shot him a dagger glare, and he sighed, and muttered, "I'm wearing height-boosting shoes."
"Hmpf." The prosecutor's voice was half-contempous, half-annoyed.
"Hey! Would it kill you to let me be a little taller than you for one day? Geez! It's just a five centimetre boost!"
A while later, the rain had died down and the two lawyers headed out of the foyer. Miles Edgeworth smirked ever-so-slightly, now (just) seven centimetres taller than the pouting Phoenix Wright. He didn't care about winning, except when he had to be shorter than Phoenix Wright.
FIN