12:07
The diner.
Its customers have more or less retired for the night. Phoenix Wright and his guest are the only ones left.
Phoenix decides to order a burger, extra cheese with no lettuce. Hold the fries; he's not that hungry.
The night shift waitress hurries off with his order, and he takes a swig of his third (or maybe fourth) cup of coffee. He holds the mug to his lips and blows the steam away one puff at a time.
"You never answered my question from before," his guest speaks up.
"What was that?" Phoenix asks, putting down his mug.
"Why are you here so late at night?"
"Oh, right." Phoenix loops his fingers around the mug's handle, gripping the body with his other hand. "I've been having trouble sleeping lately. My friend left a couple weeks ago, and it's just felt too...quiet." Phoenix avoids the man's eyes. "My apartment is too quiet. I go to my office and it's too quiet there. I grab a book and come here so I don't have to deal with that silence."
"It kind of sounds like this friend lived with you."
"Kinda," Phoenix shrugs. "It's a long story."
"I've got time." The man smiles. He seems genuinely interested, but his face betrays him. His eyes aren't crinkled right, his mouth is straining. There belies a hint of something dubious, though perhaps not sinister. Phoenix doesn't pick up on this, but he is not exactly looking at the man's face.
"She's my late mentor's little sister," he says plainly. "We've known each other for a few years. She's from this little village out in the boonies, and she went back because she had to." Phoenix's mouth tightens. "That's the short version."
"I think I understand," the man says, nodding. He is merely humoring him, though. Phoenix doesn't realize this, but he is not exactly paying attention to the man's inflection.
"It just doesn't feel the same around here without her," Phoenix says. "It almost feels like a chapter of my life is about to end. Do you know what I mean?"
"Huh," the man huffs. "Yeah, I guess so."
"I don't know...I don't know what I'm saying. It's silly." Phoenix rests his head on his balled fist, looking toward the kitchen. His plate is up and the waitress is is preparing condiments.
"Maybe a chapter of your life is about to end," the man says.
The waitress sets the plate in front of Phoenix, along with bottles of ketchup and mustard. Phoenix sits back.
"You think so?" Phoenix asks, slathering the top bun with mustard. A drop falls on his finger, and he licks it off.
"Sure," the man replies. "Why not? If you feel like it's going to happen, then it probably is."
"You say that like I'm some kind of psychic," Phoenix mumbles between mouthfuls of burger.
"Maybe you are," the man laughs. "I've seen stranger."
"Same." Phoenix laughs as well, though not as strongly.
He eats the rest of his burger, thinking about the man's words. He was most certainly doubting his abilities as a psychic, but the possibility that this is a transitory time of his life exists. It hangs over his head, but he is ever unaware.
The man drinks his coffee, looking out the window. It's pitch black outside, the high contrast with the twinkling lights of the city ever apparent.
The waitress brings the check.
"Oh," the man chimes in. "Do you mind paying for my coffee? I don't have any money on me." He rifles through his pockets as if it would prove anything.
"Yeah, sure," Phoenix says, beleaguered. He looks at the check, pulling out his wallet.
"I owe you for this," the man says.
Phoenix places a bill on the check, telling the waitress to keep the change.
"No, it's fine. It's just coffee." Phoenix smiles weakly. "I'm used to it, anyway."
The two down their drinks together, clunking their cups in time.
"Hey, this may seem a little forward," the man begins, "but do you want to take a walk with me?"
Phoenix pauses. He silently notes the irony in his "forwardness" after he asked him to pay for his coffee, and wonders if their chat about the ending chapter in his life really meant death.
"...Sure. I don't really want to go home yet." He accepts only because he feels strangely akin to this mysterious man. He may be a little off, but Phoenix feels that he is probably a good person. Probably.
The pair get up to leave, Phoenix rolling down his sleeves and shrugging his jacket back on. The older man is at the door, Phoenix is just grabbing his briefcase. The man opens the door, and leads Phoenix out with a gesture. One last glance back at their table, and the man follows into the pitch black night.
The prosecutor's office.
Edgeworth's eyes are beginning to strain but he shows no signs of relenting. He pushes his empty cup away, and it is swiftly replaced with another steaming cup. He takes a sip and his face puckers.
"Kay!" he snaps, setting it down. "Is this coffee?" His eyes never leave the monitor.
She suppresses a smile and a snicker.
"I didn't think it would take you until you drank it to figure it out," she says with laughter in her voice. "Besides, that tea isn't going to keep you awake. If this is really as important as you say it is, you need to stay sharp." She takes a fighting stance. "If I catch you sleeping on the job, mister...!"
"I get it," he nods. He takes another sip, his face turning more sour than before. "I've never really been a coffee man."
"It shows," Kay retorts.
Edgeworth's eyes narrow, and Kay pouts.
"Just having a little fun, Mr. Edgeworth. Jeez." She sits back down on the couch. "It's not like there's anything better to do around this stuffy place."
As if inspired by her own words, Kay stands.
"Although..."
"Kay, you will not be snooping around here," Edgeworth shoots her down, practically knowing what she's thinking. "I'm sure my neighbors would appreciate their case files left alone, and their offices for that matter."
Kay sits again slowly, stricken.
Edgeworth takes more sips of coffee, wincing at every one. Kay stares at the clock hanging just above his office door, the seconds ticking by. The second hand reaches the top, the minute hand moves one notch over, the second hand goes around again. Cyclic and never-ending. She can only watch for so long before she gets bored again, and her eyes wander to the shelves of case files. She follows with her eyes the lines, colors, spaces.
"Kay!" Edgeworth barks. "Come here."
She promptly obeys, moving to kneel beside his chair. She looks at the monitor and gasps.
"Is that...?"
"Yes," Edgeworth says. "It's what we've been waiting for all night."