"Visitor for you, Faraday."

It's funny how different things are from this side. From the inside looking in, her wings clipped, Kay feels almost...normal. There's a queer sense of serenity that she feels too. Sharpness, and clarity of mind. None of which she'd ever experienced before on the outside, certainly not during her brief stint in Criminal Affairs.

Unsurprising really. Circumstances change; she hasn't been back home in years.

If she can even still call it home.

But you'd think, at least, what with all those unbearably hot, muggy Zhengfainese summers — clinging to her tightly like a toxic ex-girlfriend — she'd have grown accustomed to Japanifornia's climate. Sweat drips off her brow, starchy orange jumpsuit chafing against her skin.

Although the looming figure in the doorway, stepping into the harsh light, seems to have. His hair's much shorter since last she saw him on the news a couple years ago, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to expose strong forearms. One look at them, and Kay knows the years have not been kind to him.

"It's good to see you again."

Blackquill rolls the feather between his lips; grimaces. "Alas, I cannot say the same to you."

Kay smiles; that good old Scottish brogue remains — familiar and steadfast, scratching at the back of his throat.

"...Figures. I wouldn't be too happy to see an old friend on this side of the glass myself."

Blackquill doesn't reply, emptying the contents of his satchel; pen, papers, phone...

"Birds of a feather flock together, huh?" she says to the wall as he sets Little Thief down gently on the table; it looks so wrong in its evidence bag.

He stalls, looks at her; face a picture of confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

Kay shrugs. "Never mind."

Outside, tapping against the bars, a pigeon flutters and cooes. She remembers a game she once played, about birds that couldn't fly up above because of the beast that blocked their passage. How she'd had to defeat the beast.

Then Edgeworth's face, disappointment etched deep into the lines of his forehead when he'd met her at that Borginian border outpost, comes to mind.

"Right. Well. Let's begin, shall we?" Blackquill says, pulling her back into the room. His hands are splayed in front of the thick document and he's eyeing her not unkindly.

She remembers she needs to place a call to Raymond.

"Where do we begin?" she asks.

He turns the page.

"Your alleged espionage in the Babahlese hinterlands…"