"My-? Oh, yeah." Right. That jacket. The jacket that needed no commentary, since it wasn't too difficult to figure out what it had been doing on Edgeworth's person at the end of the night. The jacket that, if considered too closely, could send them right back into morbid brooding until the end of the shift.

Accordingly, Phoenix seized onto the first change of topic he could. "Did you want to try to get anything done tonight? I'd like to find out if there's anything that explains last night, even though . . ." He let out a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. Last night was inexplicable. He knew better than to assume that the dead were permanently out of the picture, but that didn't change the fact that they were dead. Miles had- well, he wasn't going to think about that too vividly, because he needed to finish at least half of this plate and avoid his nurse hounding him about food until the end of time, but there'd been no mistaking it. There was no way he should have been walking around today in one solid piece and with an apparently normal blood volume. The fact that he was even accepting this fact and moving on with life was something that Phoenix could only credit to his uncanny ability to suspend disbelief for the sake of problem-solving.

"It all comes back to the bigger perception issue. The time lapses, the auto-translation, the sudden visual shifts like in Doyleton, and now whatever happened last night." He munched on a piece of bacon, frowning. "I don't know how to start in on it. No matter how misleading any evidence I found was, at home I at least knew that I could trust my own senses."