damned_institute | Day 35: Twin Pines Restaurant

"I think it would have to be more specific than the entirety of the list - I'd be in a straitjacket if it wasn't." Edgeworth pushed his salad plate to the side and took a sip of tea.

"Here's what I'm basing the conjecture on: the voice reacted more strongly last night than it has at any other time since the experiment. It was clearly reacting to von Karma, which makes sense. You and Gumshoe happen to be two of the people he's threatened, and you were both there when the reaction was so strong. If it was going to extend outward - and I'm not saying for sure that it did, because one incident does not a pattern make - it makes sense that it would extend to the two of you."

He reached for his journal, making a few notes, and nodding. "I think that's a wise course of action. There's no sense getting overly worried until we know more about what Gavin's intentions might be."

"That was my thought." He nodded, finishing the rest of his salad before nudging the plate toward the corner.

I wonder how he recognized me so quickly. It even took Edgeworth awhile, and if anyone's going to know my face, I'd think it would be my . . .

. . . boyfriend? That just didn't sound right -- too diminutive. But 'significant other' sounded far too committed for something this new and strange, 'partner' and 'lover' were just off (and not words he could see himself saying with a straight face, one too clinical and the other too flowery), and 'manfriend' . . . wasn't actually a word.

It figures I'd have to come up with a new word for you, he thought ruefully, glancing at Miles with a bit of a smirk, only to be interrupted by a plate clinking to the table in front of him.

"Thank you." He glanced up at the waitress, already reaching for the ketchup.

"Ah, thank you." He followed the waitress with his eyes until she had left, then looked down at the plate in front of him, feeling a little queasy. While it certainly smelled okay, this was definitely not what he would have ordered in any other restaurant.

My kingdom for a decent Italian place. I would normally say French, but Wright definitely turned a little green when I mentioned that.

Edgeworth added a little sour cream, a little butter, and a dash of salt and pepper to his baked potato, then took a small bite.

"I think I need a drink once we're done here." Way to think out loud, Edgeworth. "This has all been...intense for me. I can't begin to think of what it's like from your end."

". . . I think 'intense' is a pretty good word for it." A drink does sound good. Even if there probably isn't enough alcohol in this town to make this all completely settle in. He reached for the bottle of ketchup, shaking it at the corner of his plate in an attempt to get more out than the recalcitrant little glob it first offered. The steak (as it was called; it didn't really match Phoenix's mental picture of a steak) looked good, topped with a peppery, rich-smelling white gravy. But right now, he wanted the base, unhealthy, everyday comfort of french fries.

"I'd be up for a drink, too, but I'm not sure we have beer coupons."

"...you have a point there."

He cut a piece of the 'steak', chewing thoughtfully. In theory, all Edgeworth would need to do was find the bank, recite the account number, routing number, and name of his own bank, explain that his wallet had been stolen, and voila.

In practice, that was far too simple and would never work. Identity theft issues stemming from his lack of photo identification aside, the proprietors of all of the local businesses had probably been made aware that they would be in town, and cautioned to keep an eye out. The crazies could be dangerous, and all that.

"I don't suppose you got to keep your ATM card?"

Edited 2008-09-14 21:22 (UTC)

"I woke up here without the courtesy of still having my own underwear," he replied with a tired snort, putting the bottle aside once he was satisfied with the size of the bright red puddle. "I don't have my phone, my wallet . . . anything. Anyway, I'm supposed to be Herb Appleby. Letting me keep anything from my wallet would contradict that."

Fries were still fries, at least, he reflected, working at his lunch steadily. Some things, at least, stayed the same. "Do you have any ideas for making money?"

"I had that retort coming, didn't I?" A moment later, he added, "Don't answer that."

Edgeworth took a few more bites of lunch. It really wasn't bad, all things considered, even if he wouldn't have otherwise ordered what he had. He mulled over the question as he did.

I do have that bottle of - oh, my God, I can't believe I'm actually thinking about fencing prescription drugs. Of course, that would be a lot easier if I actually had the bottle with me.

I could always rob a bank - it worked for the Evil Magistrate in episode 15 of the Steel Samurai, when he was in a financial pinch and held up the First National Bank of Neo Olde Tokyo.

...okay, that is a whole lot worse.

"I can think of a couple, but nothing that isn't illegal." He wrinkled his nose.

Phoenix glanced down, cutting his steak into less-than-even squares. "The only thing I can think of is trying to scalp some of our coupons, myself. Unless you had your heart set on getting a massage and a manicure today." He popped a bite of steak in his mouth, smirking.

The food was pretty good, even if he didn't usually order things that had probably been fried and still came covered in white sauce. But after all the running last night, he wasn't too worried about a few extra calories.

"However will I manage without that?" Edgeworth rolled his eyes, laughing. "Okay. I don't know if it will work, but in the absence of any better ideas, I'll go with that."

He finished off a few more bites of his meal, then pushed the plate aside. "So. We have a plan, the question is, how do we go about it? Walk into the establishments in question and then ask if they can be traded in? Go door-to-door? See if there's a bulletin board around town and post a notice there?"

If I could tack cruel and unusual punishment onto the list of crimes I plan on pinning on Landel, I would.

"Don't ask me. I think I sold candy bars once or twice as a kid, and I'm not nearly as cute now as I was then." Especially in these clothes. Geez, as if everyone in town thinking I'm nuts isn't bad enough. I'll just reinforce the 'crazy hobo' image if I'm swinging around a bottle.

"We could at least try a bar, a grocery store, something like that. Maybe there's someone who works there who could use these." He glanced out the window at a few dry leaves skittering down the street. "It's autumn, right? Christmas can't be far off. These things could work as stocking stuffers, I guess."

Great idea. I can just see the happy couple sitting around that morning:

"Oh, honey! A manicure! Did you buy this off of the mental patients?"
"For just two bottles of beer!"
"I love you, darling."

"I don't know, I think you've got a certain charm, even if you're wearing something utterly ridiculous. Just to finish the ensemble, you could even carry one of those signs around, the ones you see on the streets. You know the ones I mean."

Edgeworth smirked across the table. "You would appeal to anyone out there who likes the crazy hobo type, and even add to it by bringing a bottle with you on the rest of the trip. If nothing else, it might get the nurses to let you wear something else next time."

He finished the last of his tea and set the empty glass on the table. "This whole thing is insane, but I'm ready to start when you are."

Phoenix looked across the table flatly as he ate, expression very clearly communicating a resentful 'you bastard, you're starting to enjoy this.'

"Right, just let me finish this," he muttered, tucking away the last of the steak. As he finished, he patted his pocket instinctively, almost at the same time remembering that a wallet wasn't going to be there. Nonetheless, he went through the pouch of his sweatshirt. Nothing but a journal, a pen, coupons, and a muffin in a paper bag. Not exactly currency by any stretch of the imagination. He pulled out the little coupon booklet, tugging free the voucher for the Twin Pines meal. "Not tipping just feels wrong," he muttered unhappily, putting the edge of the slip of paper under a convenient salt shaker. He'd never really been a big tipper, and he'd certainly not-tipped before, but that was in circumstances where the service had been terrible or he suspected that the meal he'd just eaten might kill him within a day. But here, the waitress seemed like a nice person, and the service had been prompt and the food good, even though everyone there must have known they were two of the crazies from up the road who'd just drop a coupon on the table and leave.

Phoenix wasn't accustomed to being dependent upon charity, and he couldn't say he liked the feeling much.

"You can say that again." It was Edgeworth's usual custom to tip and tip well - for a while it had been a small act of rebellion against the 'we are better than everyone else' school of thought that was a staple of life in the von Karma household. After a point, it had become something he'd done without thinking too much about it. It tended to mean wait staff who didn't mind him hosting lunch meetings in their establishments, and he had taken advantage of that quite a few times.

Of course, he had usually done so in fancier establishments than this one, but a custom was a custom, and he felt more than a little guilty about not being able to go through with it now.

It's just one more layer of control they have over us. Edgeworth scowled a bit as he tore the coupon out of the little booklet and placed it on top of the one Phoenix had left. He turned to the waitress and shot her an apologetic look.

"I have half a mind to come back and leave her a few bucks once I have them," he murmured as he stood and headed for the door.

[back out the door, to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/446999.html)]

Rising to his feet, Phoenix turned to follow Edgeworth out, still frowning. The waitress seemed to have caught the apologetic look, and had smiled at them in a perfectly nice, perfectly untroubled way that Phoenix suddenly realized he couldn't accept.

"I'll be right there," he muttered, pulling free the burger coupon as well before whipping out his journal and thumbing it open to a blank page in the middle. He pulled out his pen, uncapping it with his teeth and jotting out a quick note in tight, neat handwriting.

I'm sorry this isn't much, but I don't have much else to tip with. At least have an ice cream on me us.

Thanks,
P.W.

He tore out the page, put it down on the table with the coupon, and caught up with Edgeworth at the door.

Edited 2008-09-15 04:05 (UTC)

Day 35: Twin Pines Restaurant

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