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Edgeworth literally just telling Wright she's hot and that she'd do her. I feel she'd just be insane and Wright wouldn't understand it. "She's just making fun of me" type of thing. "One of these days I'm going to take you seriously," Phoenix says. Edgeworth looks at her over her glasses. "Good," Edgeworth says dryly. "The best time to take me seriously was seven years ago. The second best time is now." Phoenix snorts a laugh, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. She itches for a bottle of wine. It's cruel, this joke of Edgeworth's, but if Phoenix plays along, it takes some off the edge off. She's learned that in the years since Edgeworth first brought it up. "So you'd let me go home with you tonight? As if." "I would," Edgeworth says. Her long, elegant fingers play with her fountain pen as she speaks. "You're frightfully obtuse sometimes, Wright." "I'd believe you if I wasn't the butt of every joke right now," Phoenix says. "But I am, so. And I smell." "Wright." Edgeworth pins her with her gaze. Her lips are a perfect red moue. "You're beautiful. Any woman would be lucky to have you in their bed, including myself." "Hah." "I've thought about making a PowerPoint," Edgeworth continues. "Or perhaps just tying you down to have my way with you." Phoenix rolls her eyes. "Sure." Edgeworth pinches the bridge of her nose. "What did I do to fall in love with such a moron," she mutters to herself. Phoenix pretends not to hear, because the other option—well. She doesn't have much left, now that Gavin's in prison. She can't risk losing Edgeworth too.
Fic excerpt: "You do, a little bit." "If I have a high opinion of my work, it is merely in comparison to the low-effort brutes I'm surrounded by," Miles sniffs, and has to turn his face away to hide his half-smile at the laugh it brings out in Wright. "I'm going to tell the Paynes you said that." "Please never mention those men in my bed." Wright laughs again, and Miles can't help but crack his own grin, which he knows sits oddly on his face and is all the more protectively hidden for it. Wright, though, stills and looks at him. Miles can see the emotions as they flit across his face, like a flock of birds taking flight. Flighty, fanciful; like birds, the feelings will come and go. Miles does not need to pay them heed, and Wright should not do so either. "Miles," he begins, breathless with his own realisation, " I—"
A four-panel comic of Kristoph Gavin trying to talk to Wright's friends in order to take him down, but when he asks around, the other people (Edgeworth, Gumshoe, Adrian Andrews, Lotta Harr and Maggey Byrde) distance themselves or don't remember who Wright is. At the end, Kristoph buys Wright a drink because he feels bad for him.