Mr. Flac had sort of lost him after 'monsters'. Yeah, he'd... he'd forgotten about those. They weren't your everyday crooks. Couldn't slap on some handcuffs and tell the boys to take 'em downtown.

Gumshoe opted to sew his mouth shut from then on, an attentive eye on the two men. It would never be his place to order Mr. Edgeworth around. Things always worked out if he let the prosecutor do the talking, though nothing could relieve the detective's apprehension for the night ahead. ... That was natural, right?

Striving to accept the impossible was a lot harder than it sounded.

The invisible stitches on his lips unwound as he prevented himself from literally bouncing (rather odd to witness, to watch him reverse into a wall and awkwardly thrash his arms about), remembering something from nowhere.

"That kid I met the other night! He had a weapon!" Which wasn't a detail he was likely to forget, considering the knife's end in all its glory had been pointed directly at his throat. "I... I should've asked where he found it." He turned away dejectedly, shoulders sagging.

... I want my pistol back.