Characters: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth
Intro: Winter is the harshest time of year, in places like this. Sometimes the surest way to get through is to seek out warmth, in whatever form.
Notes: I can never reconcile the fact that the US localization sets the game in LA with the fact that we routinely see and hear about cold winters and snow. For me, the games take place somewhere in the northeast, though I can’t give an exact state — there are few places in the states with more notable winters.
And yes — yes, I do ship lawyers.
It’s not much, but I hope you enjou this, altairattorney.
As much as Miles Edgeworth despised the winter months, he knew with terrible certainty that Phoenix Wright hated them more. He said it was in his blood, that winter had been the bane of his family’s existence (on his mother’s side, at least) for untold generations, and that the loathing passed from parents to children like a flaming pitchfork.
It was an image that made him smile, but did not make the winters any easier to bear.
“Your hair is frozen.”
Miles grimmaced, lifting a hand to the icy mess that had accumulated in his hair on the way into the courthouse. Phoenix, meanwhile, pulled the hood of his coat back with palpable reluctance, revealing ice-free — if somewhat messy — barbs.
“Is that why you have a hood,” Miles grumbled, swatting half-melted snow onto the conveniently placed floor mats at the courthouse doors. Not quickly enough to keep it from freezing his fingers, sadly, nor to keep water from dripping into his eyes.
“One of many reasons,” Phoenix agreed.
“By which you mean two.”
“Well, three.” The defense attorney grinned as Miles rolled his eyes. The prosecutor couldn’t quite keep the smile twitching at his own lips at bay, either.
“Now, what courtroom are we reporting to?” Miles asked, fishing idly through his pockets. He could never remember these things, and he knew he’d written it down somewhere, if he could just find it…
“Three, I think,” Phoenix offered. Well, it sounded familiar enough. Giving up on finding his memo, the prosecutor picked his briefcase up from beside the door and began to make the rather tedious journey from the front to the back of the building. The defense attorney fell into step beside him. Pre-case nerves had yet to set in, as they inevitably would in short order; for now, he looked relaxed and confident, a fine fascade to show his client.
He also looked very warm, given that he hadn’t been frozen this morning.
The courthouse was still fairly quiet at this hour, and no one was paying any mind to them — so Miles moved his free hand from his own coat pocket into Phoenix’s.
Sure enough, the defense attorney’s fingers were warm.
Phoenix was apparently quite startled by the invasion, judging by the strangled little sound he bit back. Miles found himself smiling as he glanced at the defense attorney, who glared for a moment before huffing a sigh.
But a secretive sort of smile still touched the lines of Phoenix’s face, despite his valiant attempt to keep it at bay…and his warm hand still curled around the prosecutor’s chill fingers.
And that, Miles supposed, could make winter bearable.