Title: Of unsettling similes.
Word count: 860 words
Series: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attourney
Characters, Pairings: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth. Appearances and mentions: Gumshoe, Maya, Lotta, Larry. No real pairing.
Genre and rating: Gen, very much G rated.
Summary: Miles Edgeworth does not enjoy being compared to mist when dragged along on a photography excursion.
Author's Notes: My third ever fanfic, and, god help me, it verges on the bizarre and slightly pointless. May be pathetic, spork-worthy and out of character. Also, photography? Why? I have no idea.
If one feels like squinting that much, you may find trace elements of P/E, but trace element at most, hopefully.
“Remind me again why you dragged me along to Gourd Lake, Wright.” Phoenix turned around to be met with the sight of the prosecutor with one of his grey eyebrows raised in an inquiring way. Wearing a trench coat as a precaution against the early spring cold, Miles Edgeworth was standing impassively by the water’s edge, as small waves lapped quietly against the sand and grit that passed for a beach.
“Everyone needs a hobby, Edgeworth. And I just happen to have a lot of time on my hands between cases, so…” Trailing off and running a hand through his hair in a gesture, which would have seemed familiar to anyone who had seen him in a tight spot in court, Phoenix surveyed the surrounding landscape.
“Let me rephrase my last statement. What in God’s name does any of this-“ He gestured to the equipment scattered around. “-Have to do with my presence?” He scowled, then continued. “Also, I’m sure you’ll remember why this isn’t exactly my favourite location.”
Edgeworth’s words fell on deaf ears, however, as the other man was staring out across the lake in a way that could be described as either bizarrely intense or astonishingly vacant, depending on how one felt, or who they were talking to. A thick fog had rolled in across the lake, obscuring the dense woodland on the other side. The spiky-haired lawyer ran over to the tripod, and there was a distracting click, not unlike the one often heard around the person more readily associated with cameras.
“Why didn’t you ask that photographer woman with the large amount of hair to come with you? Or Maya? Or even Larry? I’m a busy man, Wright.” Arms crossed, and frowning even more intensely, he stood, waiting for a reply. It wasn’t as if the landscape around Gourd Lake seemed especially photogenic, either, and even with mist curling through the forest, dulling sunlight and making the trees look positively ethereal, Edgeworth could have named more impressive locations.
“None of them would have suited the situation, Edgeworth. Lotta, despite being better at this than me, is chasing the current most popular celebrity scandal as the moment, anyway. Maya’s visiting Kurain, and besides, it’s work if it was her hometown or a Steel Samurai convention or something. And Larry would just end up knocking my equipment and stuff into the lake. I take better pictures when I’m around someone who seems related to the subject in a way that inspires me than when I’m alone, I’ve found.” He was holding his chin in his hand, obviously trying hard to get the somewhat vague point across.
Torn between making a suitably sarcastic comment on the artsy nature of the other man’s explanation, and being unsettled by the bizarre nature of the information, the prosecutor settled on raising his eyebrows so far it felt as if they’d disappeared into his hairline, before practically spluttering a reply.
“So what you’re saying, Wright, is that I remind you of dull, depressing weather?”
A grin appeared on the other man’s face as he went about putting away the camera. “More or less. Except it’s more about the qualities you have in common with it” He seemed to think about it for a moment.
“Look at the time. I’d better not miss the bus, and you said you were busy. See you later, Edgeworth. I’ll send a copy of the photos over to your office when they’re developed.” With that, he cut off the increasingly awkward conversation and walked off, waving to the magenta suited man before disappearing from sight.
He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, on pain of anything up to the agony that being hit with his “sister’s” whip would be, but Wright’s simile was bothering him. From what he could gather from it, the defence attourney seemed to think he was inconvenient to have around, evasive and, from his few memories of the role foggy weather had played in a number of horror movies he had happened to see, including a particularly memorable one about a horseman with no head or something equally ridiculous, vaguely menacing.
Gumshoe, looking just as scruffy and vaguely worn as always, handed some envelopes to him with a “Your post, pal” before sneaking a glance at the positively overcast look on Edgworth’s face and retreating as if his salary was reducing every second he remained in the room.
Most of it was predictable- case details, junk mail and the odd bill which managed to get sent to the Prosecutor’s Office instead of where he lived. However, one manila envelope was addressed with a sloppy scrawl he couldn’t quite recognize. On opening the envelope, he found it contained a number of assorted monochrome and coloured photographs, all which seemed to be depicting varying views of a mist-shrouded Gourd Lake. The best one had the word “See?” emblazoned across the back in obnoxiously large red letters that nearly screamed “I told you so.”
Maybe he was reading too much into things, Edgeworth thought. Although it wouldn’t hurt to get the photograph framed… He got on with the work his thoughts had been distracting him from.
Dire, amirite?