Whatever Phoenix might have responded with was muffled against Edgeworth's mouth. That didn't matter much, since even if it had been words it now wasn't much more than inarticulate surprise and pleasure. He pressed his eyes shut tighter briefly, stopping as soon as he was bluntly reminded of how bad an idea that was, but any other adverse response was quickly washed away by the confusion of fumbling hands finding a spine, an ass, half-formed inner monologue of oh God these pants leave nothing to the imagination do they.