The shake throttled more thoughts of of Phoenix's head than into it, it felt like, but he didn't have any problems understanding the words. He listened in silence, at length nodding a little. Edgeworth was sensible, of course. That was his job. At the same time, knowing that he'd never really know . . .
The next round chased that thought away, too, albeit less completely. It was true - a lot of things could've happened and hadn't, but the vast majority of those were things that he didn't want to think too long about. He was so absorbed in thought, so caught by the words, that it took a few long, silent moments for the shadowed glimmer to register. When it did, he looked at it more closely - two locks, a mass of chains that seemed chaotic but far more benign than the ones that had moved on him, looped and cinched around him as if they'd always been there. The impulse was automatic, but it still took a second to pull his mind the right way, to bring into relief the outline of the lock, the understanding that there was a keyhole somewhere there, just waiting for the right key.
He reached out, fingertips gliding over the smoothness of red enamel and shining gold hanging at eye level, and his heart caught in his throat. Still something. "What else," he murmured, tone boding no argument, knowing that he was tracing something invisible to Miles and not even caring. It was easier than telling him it was there. His eyes flitted up, an eerie, unwavering kind of focus in them that didn't fit at all with how pale and unsteady he still looked. "Even if I didn't have this, I'd still hear that you can't even keep your voice steady. So what else is there."
Re: Inside M92
The next round chased that thought away, too, albeit less completely. It was true - a lot of things could've happened and hadn't, but the vast majority of those were things that he didn't want to think too long about. He was so absorbed in thought, so caught by the words, that it took a few long, silent moments for the shadowed glimmer to register. When it did, he looked at it more closely - two locks, a mass of chains that seemed chaotic but far more benign than the ones that had moved on him, looped and cinched around him as if they'd always been there. The impulse was automatic, but it still took a second to pull his mind the right way, to bring into relief the outline of the lock, the understanding that there was a keyhole somewhere there, just waiting for the right key.
He reached out, fingertips gliding over the smoothness of red enamel and shining gold hanging at eye level, and his heart caught in his throat. Still something. "What else," he murmured, tone boding no argument, knowing that he was tracing something invisible to Miles and not even caring. It was easier than telling him it was there. His eyes flitted up, an eerie, unwavering kind of focus in them that didn't fit at all with how pale and unsteady he still looked. "Even if I didn't have this, I'd still hear that you can't even keep your voice steady. So what else is there."