I'd hoped it might grow bored and disappear. It did that, earlier.
[Actually it disappeared because you were going to hit it with a briefcase, Edgeworth, but you know what. You keep right on presenting only the facts most beneficial to your position, you die-hard prosecutor at heart, you.
It's only when Gumshoe mentions the winding line of people working their way up the cliffside that some of his irritable bravado dissipates, and he's back to looking more uncomfortable with his silence than aloof from it.]
...I. [Breathe.] ...Suppose we had better. Yes.
[There is no hand railing. People are falling off the side of these cliffs. The only way this could be more anxiety-inducing is if there were an earthquake halfway up, good grief.
And yet.
And yet he's not about to lose face in front of Gumshoe, so he swallows back his nerves and starts forward to the steps, determined to keep his eyes straight ahead and pretend he's climbing stairs in a building, or a ballroom, or a courthouse. Anything where ascension is an afterthought, instead of a grim and front-and-center reality.
One step. Another.
He can do this.
One step. Another.
Eyes straight ahead, Edgeworth.]
...Detective.
[His voice doesn't shake, but it's very, very even. Measured. Controlled.]
no subject
[Actually it disappeared because you were going to hit it with a briefcase, Edgeworth, but you know what. You keep right on presenting only the facts most beneficial to your position, you die-hard prosecutor at heart, you.
It's only when Gumshoe mentions the winding line of people working their way up the cliffside that some of his irritable bravado dissipates, and he's back to looking more uncomfortable with his silence than aloof from it.]
...I. [Breathe.] ...Suppose we had better. Yes.
[There is no hand railing. People are falling off the side of these cliffs. The only way this could be more anxiety-inducing is if there were an earthquake halfway up, good grief.
And yet.
And yet he's not about to lose face in front of Gumshoe, so he swallows back his nerves and starts forward to the steps, determined to keep his eyes straight ahead and pretend he's climbing stairs in a building, or a ballroom, or a courthouse. Anything where ascension is an afterthought, instead of a grim and front-and-center reality.
One step. Another.
He can do this.
One step. Another.
Eyes straight ahead, Edgeworth.]
...Detective.
[His voice doesn't shake, but it's very, very even. Measured. Controlled.]
I suppose you're going to name it? The...dog.