"...!" Phoenix started at the mention of what had happened, the specific nature of Edgeworth's statement jumpstarting his heart in his chest. A chill of unpleasant emotion ran through Phoenix - he hadn't meant to be so transparent, and Edgeworth was being almost painfully direct. His gaze moved away from Edgeworth immediately, a flush of pink color appearing on his cheeks. "...i-it...I'm um...I'm sorry, I..." Phoenix stuttered uselessly, before he swallowed and lapsed into silence, his eyes focusing on the papers underneath his hand.

The defense attorney was feeling intensely idiotic, his confidence undermined by anxiety that originated from both his situation with Edgeworth and the Institute - and he wasn't sure what to do. The fact that Edgeworth had left had made Phoenix feel as if his emotions about him weren't important, and he'd stewed in them for what had felt like a long while before his accident had happened and he'd ended up in the Institute. As a result, he couldn't help but to feel like he could be compared to Mystic Ami's urn - broken repeatedly and poorly put back together because he was incapable of facing/unable to face his feelings, and in most probability leaking spiritual fumes everywhere.