Ron Backe was the most average man someone could meet. Average height, average short, black hair, average business casual attire, average job as a self-employed graphic designer, average income.

Louise, on the other hand, was nothing like her husband. The first things Lavinia learned about her was that she was an export manager, she spoke five languages and that she had kept her maiden name after marriage. Despite Hannah referring to them as "the Backes", Louise was Louise Aways. Lavinia had never met a married woman who hadn't changed their name after getting married. After getting to know her, Lavinia decided to do the same thing if she ever got with someone.

Louise was beautiful - she had long, silky, golden hair and a pair of emerald green eyes, a young yet mature face and her lips were always of a lovely shade of red despite never wearing any kind of lipstick. Her voice resembled melodies only a soprano could sing; Lavinia could picture her performing on the stage, on the notes of some Italian aria like "Casta diva", the type of lyrics her grandpa was fond of.

The first time they brought her home, Louise showed her her room. Or, what would have become her room: the spare room they had worked as a sort of storage, with piles of boxes and various items scattered around. They had managed to put a small bed in there, along with an improvised bedside table and a cheap nightlight.

"This will have to work for now," she had said. "When I'll be back from the UK, we'll go buy a nice bedroom for you, how's that sound, sweetie?"

She had looked at her with an adoring expression. Lavinia had simply nodded and Louise caressed her red strands. "You really are cute, you know?" she said, and chuckled like a high school girl.

She spent her first night surrounded by those carton boxes. Lavinia didn't care: she would have her room soon. Louise had planned to be back more or less ten days later and then they would go buy her furniture. Lavinia wanted it to be light green, with white drawers and wished for a nightlight with the semblance of a mushroom, like the one she had at nine in Sacramento.

Now, when she opened her eyes, the white stripes of light from the holes of the blinds outlined the new, wooden furniture of her room at Mr Edgeworth's house. Ms Young wasn't that wrong: she had truly won the lottery. He had even bought her a bookshelf. Maybe, her new life wouldn't be that bad. She also had to spend almost two entire months with him only, before starting school. Things better go smoothly.

She rolled onto the other side and stretched her arm to get her phone. She had forgotten to put it on charge and the battery had reached seven percent. If she hadn't charged it in the afternoon the day before, it would have probably dropped dead already. It was only seven thirty.

Lavinia yawned and pushed the sheets away. She needed to go to the bathroom. She took her phone, turned on the torch mode and went into the hallway, just to stay there with no idea of where the bathroom was. She opened one of the doors on the other side, only to meet the vague image of a desk. Where the hell did she go the previous night?

She closed the door silently and walked down the corridor. Did she go left or right? Why on Earth did someone need such a big house, by the way? It was just Mr Edgeworth and his dog, after all.

The door to Mr Edgeworth's bedroom was closed, but some light peered from the bottom. Lavinia passed by it, stopping when Pess barked from the other side. Lavinia illuminated the door, hearing a scratching sound and another soft bark.

"There, there," Mr Edgeworth said from the other side.

He opened the door and Lavinia backed away. Pess sauntered to her, sitting on the ground and wiggling her tail. Lavinia stood agape, with warmth building on her face.

"Morning," Mr Edgeworth said, "did you need something? Why are you already up?"

It took her one more moment to respond. "Uh, I… don't remember where the… bathroom is… "

Mr Edgeworth switched the hallway lights on and Lavinia squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She turned off the torch. Mr Edgeworth was already wearing a white button up shirt and a pair of black pants. His black bangs were just as perfect and straight as the day before.

"First door on the right, just around the corner," he said. "I was about to go make breakfast. Do you want to eat? Or did you want to go back to bed?"

Only then she remembered her empty stomach. "I'll come down."

"Good," he said. "Is that your phone?"

"Uh, yes?"

"How old is it?"

"The Backes got it some months ago."

"No, I mean, how old is the model?"

"Uh, dunno?" It's not like she would complain to Ron about that. The fact that he even bought her something that had an internet connection was a miracle itself.

"We'll get that sorted out as well," he said. "I'll wait for you downstairs. Come, Pess."

He turned off the light in his room and went down the stairs.

"Sorted out"? Does he want to buy me a new one? But this one's fine.

She shrugged off the thought and went to the bathroom. She washed her hands, grabbed a hair tie and put her hair into a high bun. She splashed some cold water in her face, waking herself up altogether. After putting her phone on charge, she went downstairs.

Only when she was in the living room did she think that maybe Mr Edgeworth preferred that she changed her clothes for breakfast. At the Backes, she usually ate while wearing her pyjamas, but Mr Edgeworth seemed ready for a work day. She made to go back to her room, but Pess barked and ran towards her. Surely, Mr Edgeworth knew she was there. At that point, she abandoned the thought and went to the kitchen.

Mr Edgeworth was breaking some eggs into a bowl. "Do you like french toast?"

Lavinia tilted her on the side. "What's that?"

He looked at her with narrow eyes. "You don't know what French toast is?"

"Nope."

"It's like toast dipped in milk and eggs and cinnamon," he said. "Is that ok?"

"Yes, that sounds good."

"Perfect," and he returned to work.

Was he going to cook for her as well? That was new. But at the same time, she didn't want to stand there doing nothing. He had already laid the table and the kettle was on the stove.

"Could you feed Pess, please? And change her water?"

"Of course."

"Good. Her food is in the third drawer on the white wardrobe in the storage room. Just next to the stairs. Then get back here, I need to talk to you."

"Ok."

She found some packages of pet food. Pess was following her religiously, with her nose always pointed at Lavinia's face. Lavinia gently hit it with her fingertip and Pess wiggled her ears.

"You have such a funny face, you know?" She petted her neck, feeling the soft, warm fur. "Good girl."

Lavinia loaded her bowl and changed her water. Only when she was finished, Pess started to eat. Lavinia caressed her back. "Cutie."

When she got back to the kitchen, her plate was fuming with some golden brown bread, fruit and a strand of maple syrup. Her mouth watered at the sight: that was way far from the dry, tasteless toast she used to eat at the Backes'.

"Food's ready," Mr Edgeworth said.

"Thank you."

"Here is your vanilla tea."

"Thanks, sir."

Mr Edgeworth drank some of his tea, then he turned his head to the opposite side. "You know you don't have to call me… sir, right? You live here. My subordinates call me like that, not you."

"S-sorry," she sipped her tea as well, hiding behind the green cup. "But, what should I call you then?"

He stopped his fork mid-air. "That's… an interesting question," he mumbled. "What did you call the Backes?"

"My foster mother wanted me to call her 'mom', so I did that. With her husband I went with, well, 'sir'."

He stayed silent for a moment. "Mr Edgeworth is fine."

"Ok."

"So you called your foster mother 'mom'".

Lavinia swallowed a piece of toast and shrugged. "It made her happy. It wasn't a big deal to me."

"I see."

They ate in silence for a while. Mr Edgeworth turned on the TV and listened to the daily news. Lavinia savored her meal, trying maple syrup for the first time. She cleaned her mouth after almost every bite: the last thing she wanted was to appear clumsy and impolite in front of him.

"I need to go to my office today," he said.

"On Saturday?"

"Some urgent matters have emerged. Since Mr Parks is not here during the weekend, you are coming with me."

That's a rather sophisticated way to say "I don't trust you alone in my house".

"So, at the courthouse?"

"Do you think I have an office at the courthouse?"

"Uh, I don't really know much about your job, si- Mr Edgeworth."

She could vow that his cheeks turned pink for a brief moment. "Yes, you're, you're right." He cleared his throat. "We are going to the Prosecutor's Office. At least, you can see where I work. It doesn't hurt to know, you might need to come to me."

"Ok."

The news ended. Mr Edgeworth looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "What's that on your shoulder?"

Lavinia touched her reddened skin. "This? A sunburn. I have delicate skin."

"How did you get that?"

"I was watching the kids outside."

"That seems to be a nasty burn."

"It happens every summer. I can't get tanned."

"I'll give you some sunblock to put on that."

He got up with his dish in hand. Lavinia did the same, following him to the sink, but Mr Edgeworth took the dish from her hands. "Don't worry, I'll take care of this."

"A-are you sure?" Ron never touched the dish soap. He barely knew where it was.

"Yes," he said. "Go put your clothes away and get ready to leave."

"Ok."

She went to her room and opened the windows to let in some fresh air. She made her bed and started to sort out her stuff. The wardrobe was way too spacious for what she had and after emptying her luggage there was still some space left. She filled two of her six drawers and then took her backpack. Lavinia searched the hidden pocket inside and found a white envelope. She checked in, still finding all of her money inside. She closed it and put it away in her underwear drawer. There was still the problem with her father's inheritance, but until that moment, she would have to rely on what Louise gave her monthly and the money she had made babysitting the neighbor's child.

She changed into some comfy clothes and went to the bathroom to brush her hair. While fixing some strands that were all out of the place, she took a closer look at the ends. Hannah had told the director that Lavinia needed a cut before meeting Mr Edgeworth, so she insisted on taking her to a salon down the street. She only got her ends trimmed, but she truly wanted to free herself from some inches. But the budget was strict and arguing with someone that thought you were a brat was a battle she didn't want to engage in.

She waited for Mr Edgeworth in the garden, sitting in one of the chairs under the awning. It was a nice, sunny day and Pess put her head on her thighs and Lavinia cuddled her while admiring her sweet, amusing little face. Pess licked her hand and Lavinia giggled, grabbing her head with the other hand. "Aren't you just adorable?"

Pess shook her head and made a metallic sound. Lavinia lowered her gaze and found a small plate attached to her collar. One side read "Pess", the other said "M. Edgeworth'' with a phone number. Lavinia took a picture of it with her phone: you never know. It's not like she had other people to rely on.

The sun was getting stronger. Its light embraced the garden, scattered with the wide shadows of the trees. There weren't many of them, but they were quite tall and large, flourishing and healthy. There was a rocking bench hung to the biggest one, covered by the fresh darkness created by the cloud of leaves. There was even a hammock on another, smaller tree. She couldn't imagine Mr Edgeworth laying there. It looked too plebeian. She could only picture him sitting on the armchair in the living room, reading one of his complex law books with his old style glasses, Pess onto his lap and a cup of tea in hand.

The Backes had no garden. They lived in an apartment near the city center, which had a common courtyard with no plants, trees, flowers or any kind of decoration. It was a bunch of naked square feet that not even the other kids went to. The nearest park was miles away from them and Ron rarely allowed her to take a walk outside. She could walk Pess now, if Mr Edgeworth gave her his permission. The center wasn't always safe, but now she lived in a nice area, inhabited by wealthy people and with a low crime rate. When was the last time she went outside on her own? Or the last time the house she lived in had a garden? The residence the university had given her father didn't have a private one, her grandpa was too old to walk for long distances. Changing environment was always odd.

"Pess, come inside."

Lavinia recoiled at his voice. Pess trotted back into the garage and Mr Edgeworth closed the door. "I'm glad you two get along well."

Lavinia nodded. "She's a good dog."

He grabbed his car keys. "Get in."

Lavinia sat on the passenger seat. The inside of the car was hot and suffocating and the leather of the seats burned under her clothes, but Mr Edgeworth wore his usual bordeaux suit, along with his waistcoat and long sleeved shirt. Only then she thought that maybe she shouldn't have put on a pair of short jeans to go to his office. Her father never wore short sleeves at the office, let alone short trousers.

Mr Edgeworth turned on the AC and the radio started. "Why don't you pick up a CD? They are in the drawer in front of you."

Lavinia hummed and searched for a name she knew. Her grandpa used to listen to Vivaldi and Handel, but she only found Schubert, Mendelssohn, Brahms and the Rachmaninoff CD she had spotted the day before.

Romantic period. It suits him, in a certain sense.

She was about to put on the Mendelssohn CD when her eyes caught the image of a young man with a pair of black glasses. The Best of Buddy Holly. She opened the case and inserted the disk into the player, starting the melody of Peggy Sue.

Mr Edgeworth left out what was his usual type of restrained laugh. It was the first time she saw his lips curving up that day. "Buddy Holly."

"He's cool."

"I haven't listened to that in a while."

It took them almost half an hour to reach the courthouse. Mr Edgeworth parked his car in the underground garage of a white building, passing through various empty car spots. Did he even get an assigned parking lot?

"Come on," he said, "to the twelfth floor."

He walked by the elevator and began to climb the stairs. Lavinia followed him without question, but this man wasn't that mad to get to the twelfth damn floor by foot, was he?

Lavinia soon realized she had really underestimated him. She fought to maintain her breathing steady and even, but the stairs seemed endless and her heart started to protest against her refusal to take a break. Mr Edgeworth, on the other hand, nevel slowed his pace, keeping his usual calm demeanor, until they finally stopped at the last door of the twelfth floor hallway. A sign read "High Prosecutor Office Room 1202", with Mr Edgeworth full name underneath. Above the keyhole there was a small keyboard and scanner. Mr Edgeworth put a white card on the scanner and the door clicked open.

She had been to her father's office, sometimes. It was plain, with many books scattered around, a desk filled with papers, pens, useless trinkets and a photo with the two of them during one of their monthly trips to the sea. The bookshelves were filled with books with no order, sometimes covered in dust and the curtains were old, cheap and see-through, barely preventing the summer heat from penetrating through the glass. Over the window, she was able to see the university trash cans.

Mr Edgeworth's office was on another level - literally speaking, the view of the skyscrapers on the clean blue sky was outstanding. The curtains looked soft, clean and expensive, made out of red velvet with golden embroidery. A glass protected the high bookshelf from getting dirty and near it stood a particular chessboard with blue and red pieces that glimmered in the daylight, all placed in perfect order as if ready for a match at any moment. On the shelf just in front of the window stood a huge Steel Samurai action figure near a bouquet of flowers. It clashed heavily with the solemn atmosphere of the personal office of a civil servant, especially someone like Mr Edgeworth, as if he had put it there and forgot to bring it home.

Mr Edgeoworth walked behind his desk - spotless, with only a lamp on it and a small pile of papers on the corner - and took out a legal pad from his bag. "Come here, I need to give you something."

Lavinia stood in front of him while he wrote something. He gave her a piece of paper with a code: 0907

"This," he indicated in the first paper, "is this office's code number. You need to type it on the small keyboard outside to get in. Should you need a place to go if you're lost in the city and are unable to contact me, I'll make sure you are allowed in here all the time."

He looked at her in the eyes and Lavinia struggled not to break contact. He had deep gray eyes with small wrinkles around them that made him appear older. Her soul felt bare and torn in two, as if he was trying his hardest to read something she didn't know was written on her face. "Remember that this is a top secret piece of information. I'm putting my trust in you right now. Never - and I mean it - never show it to anyone, not even to the detectives or Mr Parks or one of the prosecutors here. Am I clear?"

She nodded.

"Words. I have already told you I want words."

"Clear."

"Good," he grabbed one of his business cards near the lamp and scrawled a phone number on it. "These are my contacts. That's my personal phone, but I usually keep it off during work. You can call my work phone at any time or the office's secretary."

"Ok."

"Can you write your number here for me?"

"Sure."

"I have some work to do here. Why don't you choose a book and make yourself comfortable? Take whichever you like. Be careful with the glass door."

Lavinia put the business card and the paper inside her backpack and walked to the bookshelf. She slid the glass door and admired the wall of anonymous, plain books of Mr Edgeworth's collection. The row in front of her contained an eight volume series on international law, while the one closer to the floor carried many tomes about business and tax law. She should have brought something from his house.

Lavinia touched the spine of a book about criminal law and slid it a bit before a small, green booklet came along with it, stuck between another large volume. The white title read Basic Biology For Investigation. Lavinia put the law book back and managed to extract the small book with some force.

Hey Edgeworth,

no worries, I'll contact Mr Payne and ask him if he can spare some time for this case. Thank you so much for your help, I'll keep you updated.

K. Gavin

Edgeworth sighed and closed the case file on the desk. The incident about the engineer that had died in his courtyard - or house - had become too much for him to handle. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have come to such methods, but with Lavinia around and a mystery that became darker each day just wasn't for his mind right now. He thanked himself for putting his pride apart when he had accepted to share the case with Mr Gavin - finding a replacement altogether would have been a herculean task. He sent him the last updates Ema had given him the previous evening and put the folder into his drawer. It was time to get started with the case about the drug dealers in the city.

He wrote an email to Kay: he still lacked the lab results about the blood traces found in the van the dealers used to deliver their merch and also the report regarding the map scribbled with notes and weird symbols they had hidden between the packs of drugs.

He reread the email a few times before sending it, grunting as the internet connection slowed down for a minute. Lavinia had picked the book Ema had left in his office some years prior and never remembered to take home. What a strange choice for her. He did have a couple of mystery novels in his office, but she took that. She was slouching on the couch, with her worn shoes on the floor and her bare legs crossed on the cushion.

Well, I did tell her to make herself comfortable. It's not like someone is going to come here today.

The small backpack she had with her was made of fake, poor quality leather. The material had ruined and torn apart on the edges and the zip was half broken. A small stuffed unicorn hung from the front pocket. Her phone was at least five or six years old, her pink and white pyjamas that morning were too small for her. The shelter had managed to contact Louise Aways and she sent a box with a couple of clothes and a few other items Lavinia owned at their house that should be delivered within the next week. The reason why she didn't bring everything with her wasn't clear, but he had the feeling it had something to do with Mrs Aways' husband.

Edgeworth didn't actually need to come to his office to get his work done. It was basic paperwork he could sort out at home and that Saturday was Kay's free day, so she couldn't bring him the reports he required. Despite that, the idea of staying at home alone with Lavinia was far from endearing: she had little stuff to work on, she was about to start high school and didn't have any homework and, most of all, she walked on eggshells when around him. He wasn't the best with people, but he never thought he would make a child that uncomfortable with him. Kay was talkative when he had first met her - after he had fed her, of course.

Lavinia called her foster mother "mom" because Louise wished so. The thought of calling Manfred von Karma "dad", "father", or "papa", like Franziska did, never crossed his mind, just like he never referred to his late wife as "mom". He called Manfred sir, as Lavinia did with him, but most of all that was what Mr Backe wanted to be called. Edgeworth did it out of fear when he was a child, out of respect as an adult, as his student, as the boy who had none and had been taken care of - in a particular, odd, almost sadistic way, but still looked after nonetheless - when his father died, but above all that, he did it out of an unconscious sense of submission, a feeling that led him to bow his head in front of him, with his eyes on the ground.

Her face was buried between her locks and the small book. She had an orange hair tie on her wrist and her white, slim arms were spotted with pale freckles from her shoulders to the back of her hand. He should get her visited by a dermatologist. The burn on her shoulder was far from healed - the shelter probably didn't buy any specific product for her. Or maybe she didn't mention that to Ms Jefferson and just forgot about it. He ought to purchase some pairs of shoes - the ones that laid on the floor were made out of cheap material, the shoelaces were dirty and frayed. Some blood tests wouldn't hurt, since she was always so pale, and he still had to assign her his doctor. And the dentist. And he had to find a proper high school, maybe a sports club where she could make some friends, he had to talk to Kay or Franziska and ask them about all the toiletries and products a girl her age might need. He had to sort out everything, possibly with no consequences on his job performance or mental state.

They gaze met for a second and Edgeworth realized he had been staring at her. He shifted his eyes before she did, trying to finish off one last report about a closed case he had yet to archive. She returned to her book. He extended his hand to reach the case file, just to find a picture of a woman he had met three months prior. The case file read "LB-9". Edgeworth searched for the email Mr Gavin had sent him with the case information: "LD-9".

For God's sake.

Edgeworth held his head, with his eyes pointed to the blurred words on the paper. He had to pull himself together. Quickly. Keys in hand, he got up, making a screeching sound when he moved the chair on the wooden floor. Lavinia jolted up, but said nothing.

Edgeworth took off his jacket. Being assigned such a high office truly had his cons, especially in summer. "Lavinia, come with me. I'll show you something."

Lavinia left her book on the couch and put her shoes on. She followed him without speaking a word, her light steps the only sign of her presence behind him. Edgeworth spared a side glance to her from time to time, meeting her red locks bouncing while she walked down the stairs. When they arrived at the Records Room, Edgeworth inserted the keys, only to find the door already open.

Great, some incompetent fool left the Records Room open to the public. Great, just great.

They stepped in and Edgeworth switched the lights on. "This is the Record Room," he said. "Here we keep the most recent case files and reports."

Lavinia looked around. She barely reached the third shelf and Edgeworth restrained a chuckle. It was somewhat cute. Lavinia pointed to something on the top of the shelf near them. "What's that?"

Edgeworth followed her finger. "What? The puppet?"

"Yeah."

This time he let his laugh out. "It's the Blue Badger. That's the Police mascot."

Lavinia tilted her head. "Police have a mascot?"

"I'm just confused as you are."

"And the pink one?"

"That's… his wife, I think?"

Lavinia made a face. "The Police have a married couple as a mascot."

Edgeworth was about to comment, but Lavinia's lips curved rapidly, forming a trembling smile that she hid immediately. "What's so funny?"

"It's just…" she paused, as if searching for the right word. "They look dumb. For being… a police mascot."

"Ah, I met detectives with that same expression on their face on the job. That puppet suits them." He started rummaging through the bundles and glanced at her. "Don't tell anyone I said that, though."

She made the gesture of sealing her lips with her thumb and index finger and gave him a tiny, feeble smile.

Someone had decided to mess up with the files, because some of them were out of order. Edgeworth skimmed the whole L section, until he found the LD-9 incident file hidden behind one of the biggest bundles. He flipped the pages, making sure there were no missing parts, and gestured Lavinia to follow him. He locked the door behind them, heading to the stairs. Again, Lavinia made no sign to protest, though she struggled to keep up with his pace. Edgeworth slowed down so that she could remain two or three steps behind him, but also because the heat prevented him from going faster.

Or maybe he was just getting old.

He got back to his desk and Lavinia retrieved her book. From time to time he spared her a glance, noticing how she was reading more or less the middle section of the book. She only moved from her position when she got up to go to the bathroom and she took enough time to make Edgeworth think she got lost at some point.

It was past midday. His eyes were burning due to the hours spent in front of his laptop screen and reading papers typed in ridiculously minuscule characters. He stood up, grabbed his jacket and his briefcase and walked to Lavinia. When his shadow covered her, she looked up at him, questions washing over her blank face.

"It's time for lunch," he said. "What are you reading there?"

The page she was reading was illustrated with tables, eyes and hair of different colors and pees. "Uh, genetics."

"I thought you were the type of student who preferred humanities."

"I do, but I like biology as well," she closed the book and shoved her feet inside the shoes. The laces were still done.

Edgeworth nodded and headed to the door. "Where would you like to eat?"

She took a moment to respond. "I-I don't really know any place, Mr Edgeworth. It's been a while since I last ate out."

The Backes never took her out? They had her for almost eighteen months and never took her to a restaurant?

"Well, what do you usually have for lunch?"

"With the Backes I usually made pasta or chicken."

"I think I can accommodate that," he said, descending the stairs. Then he stopped, "Wait, what do you mean you 'made'?"

Her mouth was half open, her eyes darted in any direction but his face. "Uh, no, I mean, I had…"

"You didn't say 'had', you said you 'made'."

"I know how to cook. I helped at the shelter, too." She brought her thumb nail to her mouth and talked to the ground.

Edgeworth tried to meet her gaze, but dropped the subject. A twelve, thirteen-year-old that cooked for her foster parents? Mr Backes worked from home and he didn't travel like his wife. A grown man who made his foster daughter cook for him. It was ridiculous. If she said "made" instead of "had" with such a natural tone, it meant it used to happen often.

He drove to a nearby restaurant, one where he went when he worked overtime in the evening. A waiter welcomed them and led them to a table near the window. Just when Edgeworth picked up the menu, Lavinia started to bite her nails and the water inside the glasses moved slightly. He checked under the table and her leg was moving with vigor, her other arm clenched at her torso. Edgeworth watched her as she read through the menu, her eyes widening every now and then. It was a place a bit above average, Edgeworth had to say that, and she wasn't actually dressed properly, not with her plain, pink t-shirt tucked inside a pair of short jeans ripped at the edges. She looked like Phoenix when Edgeworth first took him out for dinner, before stating that it would be his treat and he had nothing to worry about.

"Lavinia."

Her head jolted up. "Yes?"

"Stop your leg."

She inhaled sharply and the water stopped waving. "S-sorry, I really don't realize when I do that."

"Stop biting your nails, too. You're going to get them all ruined."

"Sorry, si-Mr Edgeworth."

Edgeworth sighed, putting down the menu. "Do I really make you that uncomfortable?"

Lavinia looked at him with big eyes, like a deer in front of a pair of car lights running towards them. It was probably not the best thing he should have asked her, but he hated playing games. Guessing other people's feelings wasn't his best ability and surely it wouldn't improve out of the blue.

"N-no, of course not."

"Then why is your leg still causing an earthquake?"

"I-I-" She forced her leg still. After taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms, as if shielding herself. He could almost see her heart jumping in her ribcage. "It's really not about you, Mr Edgeworth."

Liar, I can read that in your very face.

"It's truly hard for me to do this all over again, it's just-," she trembled. "It's just that."

Edgeworth scanned her. She held her shirt tightly, her knuckles white. Her cheeks were pink, only then he noticed an almost invisible scar just above her right eyebrow. A strand fell onto her face, but she didn't make the effort to move it. She had auburn eyelashes, long and curved, and a blue vein lay just under her right eye, perfectly visible underneath her pale skin.

"Yes, you are right," he said, though he was sure she was at least telling one half lie. "I'm sorry, I should understand you better. I know what it means."

When he said that, her eyes screamed curiosity, but no words escaped her mouth.

"So," he said. "What are you having?"

She startled and skimmed the menu in front of her. "Yes, th-the chicken with roast potatoes."

"You don't have to choose chicken just because it's cheap Lavinia, don't restrain yourself."

"No, I like chicken. I'll have that."

"Do you want something else to drink?"

"Water is fine. I'm not fond of sweet drinks."

"Ok."

After a waiter took their orders, Edgeworth asked: "So you know how to cook."

"Yeah. Just a bit. The basics."

"You're young. That's impressive. Who taught you?"

"None, I kinda learned by doing," she finally dropped her arms to her sides. Her features relaxed. "I lived with my grandpa for a while, after dad passed away. He was old but managed well with the house, but he became ill all of a sudden. He smoked a lot, so, you know, his lungs weren't the best, and I had to help him." She made that smile again, that small movement of her lips that disappeared in a split second. "He used to make me chicken on sundays."

Edgeworth listened to her, warmth blooming inside his chest. She was just like him, after all. His father bought him ice cream every time he finished a trial. He never received such a treat with the von Karmas. Any time Manfred brought him to a trial and left with nothing, there was a sort of void inside him. He learned to shut it down.

"Mr Edgeworth?"

"Yes?"

"I have a - I kinda have a request."

"Tell me."

"I-" She pointed her gaze to the ground and shook his head. "No, nevermind."

"Lavinia, tell me what you need."

She tilted her head to the side. "When my grandpa died, I had to go to the shelter almost immediately. I never really had a chance to… to visit his grave after his burial. It's been more than two years since he passed away and I've never been there, and it's not like I have relatives who would bring him flowers."

"Where is his grave?"

"Here in L. A., north."

"I'll take you there tomorrow."

He finally locked his eyes with hers. Lavinia leaned forward, as if to say something, but was interrupted by the waiter who brought their food. "Here, chicken?"

Edgeworth indicated Lavinia with a movement of his head. "For the young lady."

"Th-thank you very much."

When the waiter left their plates, Lavinia put her hands on the table. Another strand fell on her forehead. "We don't have to go tomorrow, I know you have so much work to do, it's not that urgent-"

"I can spare a Sunday," Edgeworth said before she could finish her stream of words. "It's a short drive, and I have handed some cases to another reliable prosecutor. It is far from being a big deal."

Lavinia blinked a few times, then she smiled at him, a true smile, shy and gentle. "Thank you, Mr Edgeworth. I mean it."

"You're welcome dear, but now eat something, or it will get cold. And for the love of God, please, stop shaking your leg."

"Sorry."

Edgeworth pinched the bridge of his nose. "You actually aren't aware of that, are you?"

"Not really."

I can't do much about it, I guess.

Lavinia finished her plate a bit before him, leaving the dish completely empty. She had quite the appetite, despite being so tiny. She watched him eating the last remnants of his meat with her back onto the chair, holding the glass of water with both of her hands.

"Mr Edgeworth?"

"Yes?"

"What do you do, precisely? Your job, I mean."

"I search for the truth."

"Mh," she mumbled. "Well, that's… poetic."

"I conduct investigations at crime scenes and prove the defendant's guiltiness in court. If they are guilty, of course."

"You also seem to have a lot of paperwork."

"I tend to take on way too many cases," he said. "And each case usually has many people involved, various documents, biological analysis, reports about evidence, autopsy reports. The list goes on, it's way different from the shows people watch on TV."

"And what do you investigate? Murders?"

It sent a chill to his spine how she said the word so easily. Maybe he was wrongfully thinking of her as a child. "Mostly, but I have prosecuted a myriad of crimes."

"Can I come to see you in court, once?"

"I'm dealing with a gruesome murder case right now. I would prefer not. Why would you, may I ask? They can be quite boring, especially for someone who knows little about law."

She shrugged. "I'm curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"And satisfaction brought it back."

"I could provide you with many examples of people in Greek and Latin mythology who encountered disgrace due to their curiosity, and satisfaction did nothing to bring them back."

"Psyche won her love back, though."

"Orpheus didn't."

"He wasn't curious: he was afraid that Eurydice wasn't actually following him. It's different."

"I'm not taking you to court, Lavinia. Not right now, at least. I don't want you to hear what happened."

"What happened?"

"I will not tell you."

He expected her to pout. Instead she accepted defeat and didn't respond. It wouldn't hurt to show her a trial, he had to give her that. It would be educational, for all that mattered: she was a professor's daughter, at the end of the day. Perhaps, thirst of knowledge was in their blood, but she could satisfy that with a trial for theft, robbery, or counterfeiting, not multiple murder and desecration of corpses.

His phone rang. Edgeworth sighed: in spite of being considered strange or even mad for working during his time off, he never bothered his coworkers on weekends. The only person who never minded to call in on inappropriate days was the same one that climbed to his windows at home.

"It's Edgeworth."

"Mr Edgeworth, you could just start to say hello, you know? I know it's you."

"Yes, but this is my work phone, Kay, so you probably have to say something work-related, because that's what work phones are supposed to be used for."

He wasn't able to see her, but he could picture her frowning like a ten-year-old. "Anyway, I heard you are at the Prosecutor's Office. I got the reports you asked me for, the ones about the drug dealers."

"Isn't today your day off?"

"I switched with a coworker of mine, I actually finished my shift ten minutes ago. I'm free this afternoon."

"Well, thank you Kay. We've just finished eating out, I'll be there in a moment."

"Can I sneak into your office while I wait?"

"No."

"What a killjoy you are."

"You are so childish sometimes," he was about to end the call, but a thought raced in his mind. "Kay, you said you are free this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah, why? What's up?"

"I'll tell you in a moment, wait for me at the entrance, ok? Not in my office."

"But it's burning hot outside!"

He sighed. "Go wait in the hall. I'll be there."

He put his phone back and snatched his wallet. "Lavinia, let's go. There is someone I'd like you to meet. I'm sure you will like her."

"Mh?" She blinked a few times, but asked no questions.