trace (vestiges)

"Good luck today, Edgeworth."

Miles does not even get the faintest chance to respond before Maya Fey has appeared, reaching out and slapping the attorney across the back of his head. "Phoenix Wright, how could you!" she protests, shrilly and annoyed, her immediate frustration striking Miles to the core. Is she angry because of the casual phrase? The familiarity? The fraternization with one who is technically their opponent?

He puts on a weak, rueful grin. How can he blame her? He had once tried to put her behind bars, after all. Gods, if she knew just how much I've loathed how close she is to him… "I understand that you're not very fond of me, Miss Fey," he says quietly, stepping away from the duo before him. With a short bow of his head, he sighs. "I'll see you in court for a fair fight."

Those last few words seem over the top. He knows that they are necessary, though- even if Phoenix has already forgiven him. Those words are just for Miles, and that is alright.

To his surprise, Maya immediately shakes her head, pushing Phoenix towards him. "No, Mr. Edgeworth, stay!" she insists. Turning back to Miles, she whispers hotly, "I cannot believe you, Nick! Man up! We practiced this, remember? Where's that lawyerly confidence, hm?"

At the center of this exchange, Phoenix's face looks as if he is about to physically combust, his eyes wide and frantic, brows furrowed in complete dismay. "Maya, it's weird-"

"No," she gripes. "I did not sit outside the office window that night for three hours in the freezing cold to watch you be normal-"

Instantly, horror dowses Miles' confidence and confusion like a bucket of icy water, leaving him bedraggled and exposed. No, you cannot tell me that- "You… did what?"

Maya grins, a wicked glint in her eye. "I probably should've said something," she begins airily, "but you two had such a good mood going! You two are good together and neither one of you idiots are going to mess this up, okay?" Turning back to Phoenix, she says firmly, "Okay. You two are going for dinner after this trial, no matter who wins or loses, and you're not going back to the office until at least midnight."

Spluttering, Phoenix squeaks, "Maya Fey, what are you-"

She sticks her tongue out at him remorselessly. "I've read fairy tales. The magic won't wear off until at least midnight, but I doubt you'll need to worry about that." Then, to Miles' absolute horror, she winks at him, just as teasing and playful as she usually is with Phoenix.

Phoenix just about has an aneurysm on the spot, completely flabbergasted by her words; however, it is during that moment of flustered, shocked silence that she jumps forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys before he can react. "These are mine and you're not taking them back until tomorrow, Phoenix Wright. Now, let's go win a trial!" And with that, she merrily skips towards the door, completely unaware- or perhaps far too aware- of the immediate tension and embarrassment she has so easily generated between the two men left behind.

Clearing his throat clumsily, Phoenix tries to run his fingers through his hair, eyes trained on his shoes. "W-well… you heard her, I suppose," he murmurs.

"She certainly has a hold on you," Miles responds, almost dizzy, the implications of their after-trial meeting clear as the flush covering Phoenix's cheeks. Is this- are they truly-

Phoenix shrugs, a softness entering his gaze. "She's like a little sister, and I really need to learn to say no to her," Phoenix replies, utterly exhausted. Then, strangely enough, he smiles, expression far too knowing for Miles' liking. "She… she's right to be annoyed, though."

Miles blinks blankly at the other man, waiting for an explanation. Why would Maya Fey be annoyed at Phoenix? Or, he wonders after a moment, heart falling, is that irritation projected towards Miles, as expected?

Taking in a deep breath, Phoenix finally lifts his head, expression resolute. He closes the distance between them, and with an almost aggressive motion, he leans forward, plants a quick peck on the corner of Miles' mouth, and says, "Winner treats the other to dinner?"

Miles has to fight every nerve in his body to not recoil, to not jump back at the sudden touch. He manages to keep his feet planted, although the mental toll is more than enough to render him as crimson as his suit. "I- shouldn't it be the other way around?"

Phoenix winks, the action smooth and debonair despite the innocent, exuberant flush colouring Phoenix's face. "Winner gets paid more. It's only fair."

It takes him a moment, but finally, Miles manages to shake his head, chuckling. "I suppose you don't have much of a choice at least, do you, Wright?"

Large, callused hands squeeze his for a moment before letting go, the blue-clad man jogging back to his own bag, readying to head into the courthouse. "Good luck today, Miles," he beams. "I'll… I'll see you soon." And with that, he heads inside, leaving Miles Edgeworth some peace and quiet before the trial begins. For that, Miles is grateful- the sound of his first name upon Phoenix's lips is enough to cause his knees to collapse, the prosecutor crouching down, covering his face with a mix of pure indignation and giddy delight.

By the gods, I am going to lose this trial if I don't smarten up.

Oddly enough, Miles does not mind. He knows that Phoenix will catch him if he falls, no matter what, after all.

…he cannot wait till after the trial.