There was a fire, but it seemed relatively small and self-contained, and the crowding less dramatic than it had been in the shop. It was telling that this seemed like a small victory. Unthinkingly, Phoenix rested a hand against the flat of Miles' back, right between his shoulderblades, fingertips curled into the space between collar and neck. Edgeworth was warm - and that made sense, given all the running and fighting, but it was distracting somehow, and not the usual kind of distracting. He didn't want to look at him, so much - he just had this gut feeling for a moment that moving closer would be a bad idea, because there was hunger-but-not sparking at the cues of breath and sweat-prickling skin. Still, everything Phoenix felt was wrong, like a shadow stretched out under the light of a streetlamp, proportions skewed. It wasn't that he wanted to be near, so much as he- he-
No. Senna. He forced himself away from the bewildering blur of dizzy, exhausted impulses, focusing on Senna. Senna was a good thing to focus on. "The top floor?" he double-checked with her, even as he eyed the rubble-clogged stairs through the smoke. If she wanted to take leader post, that was more than fine by him. He shared, with most people, the quality of liking a leader who seemed like they could keep you in one piece in a crisis. "Biggest rooms with the most furniture, probably."
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There was a fire, but it seemed relatively small and self-contained, and the crowding less dramatic than it had been in the shop. It was telling that this seemed like a small victory. Unthinkingly, Phoenix rested a hand against the flat of Miles' back, right between his shoulderblades, fingertips curled into the space between collar and neck. Edgeworth was warm - and that made sense, given all the running and fighting, but it was distracting somehow, and not the usual kind of distracting. He didn't want to look at him, so much - he just had this gut feeling for a moment that moving closer would be a bad idea, because there was hunger-but-not sparking at the cues of breath and sweat-prickling skin. Still, everything Phoenix felt was wrong, like a shadow stretched out under the light of a streetlamp, proportions skewed. It wasn't that he wanted to be near, so much as he- he-
No. Senna. He forced himself away from the bewildering blur of dizzy, exhausted impulses, focusing on Senna. Senna was a good thing to focus on. "The top floor?" he double-checked with her, even as he eyed the rubble-clogged stairs through the smoke. If she wanted to take leader post, that was more than fine by him. He shared, with most people, the quality of liking a leader who seemed like they could keep you in one piece in a crisis. "Biggest rooms with the most furniture, probably."