Author's Note: I was recently replaying Rise From the Ashes, and the scene in Edgeworth's office inspired a little seasonal story.

This can be read as a prequel to my story, "Turnabout As Old As Time." Happy early Thanksgiving, everybody.

The Chief Prosecutor's Office

November 26, 2028

The last time it snowed in Los Angeles, thought Edgeworth, glowering at the fogged-up windows of his perfectly-organized, pristine office, was sixty-six years ago, in 1962. And yet…

Outside, little wet, unappealing sleet droplets were sploshing noisily against the pane, against the concrete sidewalk, and against the plastic trashcans lined up across the street.

Edgeworth sighed.

It's 35 degrees on November 26th, he thought, glancing down at his blinking cellphone screen. Excellent. Perhaps the world is finally ending.

Of course, today, of all days, he hadn't checked the weather report before he'd left his apartment to head to his office. Today, of all days, both of his best jackets were at the dry cleaners, and here he was, in his shirtsleeves, trying to look dignified while shivering on the sofa.

He had the evidence from his current case, the brutal murder of Mr. Gann Wilde, laid out carefully on the coffee table beside him. Mr. Wilde had been a zookeeper at the local Goodman Memorial Zoo and Gardens, paid for in part by the collected donations of various members of the Prosecutor's Office over the course of the last several years. Edgeworth could see the Zoo from his window…although, right now, of course, most of what he could see was mush. Mr. Wilde, had apparently been murdered in cold blood by a member of his staff who held a grudge against him for firing her mother after the woman had sustained a severe hip injury and had no longer been able to work.

As Edgeworth understood the facts, the murder weapon had been…a lion. The lion had, allegedly, been provoked to attack Mr. Wilde through the use of a specially-treated piece of scented leather.

Another absurd case, reflected Edgeworth, annoyed. Surely, there are easier weapons with which to kill someone…a live lion seems unnecessarily ridiculous. Half the crimes that take place in this district seem ridiculous. What time is it?

He yawned, stretched, and was just contemplating the idea of curling up in a ball and taking a guilty but delicious twenty-minute nap when someone rapped hard on the office door.

Edgeworth sat up straight and cleared his throat, trying to look more awake than he felt. "Uh, what? Yes? Who is it?"

The door creaked open, revealing, unsurprisingly, Phoenix Wright, wrapped up in a puffy blue parka, with glistening globs of slush sticking to the pointy bits of his hair.

"Yeah, well" said Phoenix, nodding knowingly. "I figured I'd find you here. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Wright," muttered Edgeworth. "Please…don't drip on the hardwood."

"It's one o'clock in the morning," continued Phoenix, stepping quickly onto the rug where he could drip without risk. "one o'clock in the morning, the day after Thanksgiving. Uh, Happy Thanksgiving, by the way."

"Thank you," returned Edgeworth. "And to you as well. Can I help you with something?"

"Um, yeah, actually." Said Phoenix, very, very carefully beginning to remove his wet jacket. "I wanted to ask you about this autopsy report. Does this seriously say LION? Like, is that a…a euphemism or something, or-wait, whoa, it is really cold in here, Edgeworth. Is your heating not working? Yikes, it's freezing!"

Under his parka, Phoenix was, of course, wearing his trademark blue suit jacket. Edgeworth scowled at it.

"Yes," he said quietly, "yes, it says lion. The victim was mauled to death by a lion."

"Allegedly," retorted Phoenix. "He was allegedly mauled to death by a lion."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow at him. "Wright, there are lion-sized claw marks all down his face and neck. Nevermind, we'll discuss it in court tomorrow. Yes, the autopsy report says lion, and yes, the prosecution will be…" Edgeworth sighed wearily. "We will be submitting the lion as the murder weapon in this case. Does that sufficiently answer your question?"

"Yes. Thank you." Phoenix nodded. "Aren't you cold?"

What do you think, Wright? Edgeworth was annoyed.

"Yes," he repeated, "Yes, I'm quite cold, and it's been a long day, so if there isn't anything else, then…goodnight."

"How about a cup of hot coffee?" Phoenix glanced at his watch. "Uh, the cafeteria is definitely closed by now, but I know there's a kitchen in the break room. I could make us some coffee. That might help."

Please stop trying to help, thought Edgeworth. Please go home. I am very tired, and I am starting to get a migraine.

"No, thank you," he said aloud, "but I appreciate the thought."

Phoenix looked a bit uncertain. "Well…okay," he said eventually. "If you're sure. Just, don't stay here all night, okay? You've got dark circles under your eyes the size of tea-cups, and I mean, like, your fancy teacups, the big ones. Don't wear yourself out."

"Goodnight, Wright." Edgeworth returned his attention back to his case notes, but found that he was having trouble just focusing on the paperwork in front of him. He really was tired…and were the circles that bad? He hadn't noticed. Honestly, he hadn't looked.

"We missed you at the holiday party," said Phoenix, now halfway out the door. "Everybody asked for you."

Hah, thought Edgeworth. You're sweet…I'm sure they didn't.

"Don't. No one asked for me," he muttered. "I'm sure you all enjoyed yourselves immensely without me there to darken the mood. I'm no good at parties. Large groups of people asking questions about my health and my personal life unsettle me. I bore them, and I embarrass myself."

"Whoa, someone's gloomy today." Phoenix shook his head. "Anyway, it might not be so bad if you actually had a personal life. Maybe try that? Then you'd at lease have something to talk about. You never know, you might have fun."

Edgeworth didn't even look at him. Instead, he just fixed the papers in front of him with his blackest, most forbidding scowl, hoping the message would get across.

"All right, okay, I'm leaving." Phoenix threw up his hands. "Enjoy your brooding, Edgeworth. See you in court tomorrow."

Phoenix started to shrug his wet parka back on, then paused, and carefully slipped it off again. He took off his dry, blue suit jacket, gently stepped over the hardwood and back onto the carpet, and then placed his jacket on Edgeworth's shoulders.

Edgeworth blinked up at him, surprised.

"It really is freezing in here," mumbled Phoenix, closing the door on his way out. "'Night!"

Edgeworth waited until Phoenix was absolutely, unquestionably gone before he gratefully slipped his arms into the sleeves of Phoenix's jacket and hugged it to him, reveling in the warmth, feeling the blood start flowing properly again in this veins. Phoenix was a bit skinnier than Edgeworth, and the sleeves were a little tight, but Edgeworth didn't really care, at least, not on what was probably going to be the coldest night of the year in California. There was a light red stain on the jacket's sleeve, as well, Edgeworth noticed. Possibly cranberry sauce. Potentially wine.

The jacket even smelled like Phoenix.

Slowly, deliciously, Edgeworth's whole body began to warm up. He realized that he had begun smiling like a fool, cleared his throat, and shook himself mentally.

There's still plenty of work to do before tomorrow's trial, he reminded himself. This is no time to be lost in a reverie.

The door to the office was still slightly open. Phoenix did seem to have a problem fully closing doors behind him.

Perhaps I'll get some coffee after all, thought Edgeworth, getting stiffly to his feet and pulling the jacket even tighter around him as he headed for the long, dark hallway.