M-A Block Hallway

[thesadist]

[Coming from here.]

Daemon paid little attention to any of the doors he passed, taking no time to watch where he was going or check if there was anyone or anything in his way. His attention was completely focused on that one distant pulse, which was growing ever closer. He could feel her, she wasn't far away. After all this time.

It was all he could do not to just spend his magic and take down the walls that separated him from her in order to be there more quickly.

[Racing here.]

Comments

[ham_fisted]

Mr. Edgeworth was so organised!

"Did you draw that yourself, sir?" Gumshoe queried, sights looming from above the younger man. "I should make copies!" ... When I get back to the precinct! He silently affixed.

Ah, he recognised this area without the lighting. He'd stopped by the Clinic room last night, shifted into one of those corridors with the kids. It was really strange, but having navigated his way through pitch darkness seemed to have aided his memory better than if he'd walked in illuminated surroundings...

"I think it's here," he said quietly, growing conscious of the risks to be had if he continued to speak in a raised voice. Moving quickly towards the exit, he opened the door for Mr. Edgeworth. "Also, some guys've set up a kind of refuge in a room down there." He pointed a finger in the direction of M35. "Th- Things got crazy yesterday. Found a boy with b- broken ribs, I think, and h- he told me about this place that could help him. We, um, we took him there, and..." He trailed off, blanching all of a sudden. It was like an invisible healing cloud had swept over the teenager... like some spiritual power or another had been utilised to wipe away the wounds.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"I had a bit of help putting it together, and it's not entirely complete, but you're welcome to make a copy of it, Detective," the prosecutor said, carefully looking through the doorway before stepping across it.

I'm glad someone set up a first-aid station. It's well past time for that kind of thing, he thought as he took in Gumshoe's statement. "M35, is it? I'll keep that in mind..." He abruptly stopped speaking once he noticed the pallor on the older man's face.

"Are you feeling ill, Detective? You look like you've seen a ghost - not that those exist, of course. It would be foolish to think that." The voice left over from the experimentation a few nights ago mumbled loudly in the back of his head, as if to protest that statement. Edgeworth ignored it; acknowledging it, and the fear that came with it, would only make it louder.

[ham_fisted]

"Wha? N- no, it's nothing," he hurriedly replied, bowing his head to hide his face (though this was impossible to accomplish given his height). He had yet to wise up to that talent; that of closing off one's features to cease them from broadcasting one's inner thoughts. "N- no, no ghosts. We'd be in trouble if those started appearing!" If that wasn't the truth, then his name wasn't Dick Gumshoe! He mustered a smile, letting it gradually melt into a grimace.

... Ghosts weren't among the more suitable topics for conversation, he knew. He sighed and went forward, shifting ahead of the other man with every intention of leaving that exchange behind.

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