tvk | 07: [Action]

[Edgeworth is so out of it, so overwhelmed by his misery, that his usual aversion to physical contact barely kicks in at all -- a token twitch that could just as easily be surprise, nothing more.

The dog, on the other hand, looks up from lapping up Edgeworth's tears long enough to smile at this newcomer.]

...come on.

[Edgeworth offered to listen to Diarmuid when he needed it--the least he could do was offer the same courtesy.]

I was just returning to my room--if you'd like, we can talk in private there.

[Speaking seems to register more effectively, as the the prosecutor sounds like he's at least trying to respond. The key word here is "trying" -- it sounds more like an attempt to construct a new language out of sobs, chokes, and whimpers than anything. He hugs the dog he's clinging to harder, and she whimpers in sympathy.]

...please? [A faint, sympathetic smile--strained but heartfelt.] Bring your companion as well, if you like.

[Realizing that he's in no shape to speak, Edgeworth just nods numbly, then forces himself to slowly release the dog. She seems confused at first, until the slowly rising prosecutor pats his thigh while beginning to turn. He doesn't seem able to properly lift his head, though, and is obviously struggling with the whole "upright" thing.]

[This must have been something cataclysmic, Diarmuid thought as he led the way back upstairs. In silence he tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the crimson lance...what could have happened? How many more people could possibly have been killed? Diarmuid hadn't dared check the news reports after he'd been told about Grainne.]

[One thing at a time. Eventually they reached the sixth floor, Diarmuid unlocking the door and stepping back for Edgeworth and his canine friend to walk in first.]

[The dog seems torn between curiosity about her surroundings and concern for Edgeworth as they go up the stairs and into Lancer's room, but does keep pace with the men. As for Edgeworth himself, he at least finds the presence of mind to stagger his way to the couch and cradle his head in his hands. The dog leans against his legs.]

Edited 2012-03-27 06:10 (UTC)

...what's happened?

[Lancer sank into a chair nearby, lance resting against his shoulder. It was as if he didn't want to let it go for fear it might vanish completely.]

[It's clearly a struggle for this man who lives by his words to form even one right now:]

...Wright.

[That tone of voice could only mean a couple things.]

Did he...leave? Or was he...

[The implication that Phoenix could have become the serial murderer's victim was one Diarmuid couldn't bring himself to say.]

[Edgeworth shakes his head, leaning it on only one hand now while reaching down to pet his dog. She seems pleased to get reciprocation of her attention.]

Missing.

I see. I'm...sorry. You must have been close.

[Edgeworth nods weakly, still running his fingers through black-and-white fur. There was no sense in even considering hiding that from Diarmuid, after all.]

...I know it hurts. Believe me, I know that. And though I'm certain it will sound meaningless now...it's going to be alright.

H-how? Th-the case...

First of all, take a deep breath and calm down.

I have faith in you. And I believe your ability to handle this--you aren't alone. I'm certain the vast majority of us are willing to help you at whatever cost.

[Edgeworth shakes his head again. It's not that simple, for so many reasons he's in no shape to articulate right now, but he can at least try to fit one point between sobs:]

...One of us...

...

[Diarmuid waited patiently for Edgeworth to make his point, all the while not relinquishing contact with the lance in his hand. He seemed to treat it almost like an old friend, perpetually in as close contact with it as possible.]

I'm listening.

[As for Edgeworth, he climbs down from the couch to embrace the dog who seems to care about him so much and pet her more fully. And when it registers that he needs to clarify his last statement:]

...The killer is.

Clearly. But that's one out of a much larger number, and just because one of them is a murderer does not mean the rest are any less willing to help. Can you not at least trust in those of us you must know would not sink as low as that?

Edited 2012-03-27 06:52 (UTC)

(So he at least noticed that much.)

[Hesitantly, Edgeworth lifts his head from the dog's shoulder and looks at Diarmuid plaintively and pleadingly. His eyes are red, and more tears are adding to layers of streaks.]

(How can I possibly explain? How much does he really understand of the sort of help needed here?)

...Talk, I'm listening.

[Clueless as he could be about the world at large now, Diarmuid was never an idiot. That coupled with a fair amount of reading helped one become rapidly less clueless.]

What is it?

[Edgeworth takes a few deep breaths while continuing to pat and accept kisses from this dog. Once he finally gathers enough composure to speak properly, he does so:]

T-to lose Wright... i-is losing more than... th-th-than just a c-colleague, or a f-friend, o-or the m-man who saved my life a-and my heart. ...He... without him, how... h-how can we run... a t-trial here, am-mongst the k-kidnappees? How will th-those who care little for t-truth, wh-wh-who see acting on h-hatred as justice...?

[And he can't say any more. He hugs his dog again, who nuzzles him as he descends into sobs again.]

...There have been times, more often than I wish to admit, that I have fallen into despair and hopelessness. And while I can not say such situations have always ended well...

[He paused, grip tightening imperceptibly on the crimson spear as if he was recalling something.]

...my father once told me something to effect of 'if one stays optimistic, then things have a good chance of working out for the best'. Not his precise words, but it's been so long that I can't remember them exactly.

What I am attempting to convey here is that...there's always a chance. No matter how impossible it may seem, I still believe there is always a chance to improve things. It's just a matter of trying not to remain so focused on one's own despair that they miss it.

I have faith in you, and in the idea that you'll find a way.

[Those words help to calm the prosecutor enough for him to respond almost immediately.]

...I was already s-struggling, Diarmuid. Punishment... is a q-question I've yet to... to find a s-satisf-factory answer for. The existence of m-my very profession, of the c-courts in which I flourish... are th-things a great m-many kidnappees d-doubt the value of. I... I must n-not only pursue the t-truth, but defend my purs-suit of it, dissuade th-those who w-would act in ill w-will or ill cons-sideration, exp-plain what j-justice even is, attempt to b-build the place in wh-which I belong anew because wh-what's here is ins-sufficient to our needs desp-pite others' disdain...

[He smack the floor with his hand, causing the dog to jump and backpedal.]

I cannot do everything alone, Diarmuid! Egbert's death is a testament to that!

...Pess, I'm s-sorry. That wasn't int-tended for you. You're a good girl, Pess... it's all r-right.

[Edgeworth closes the short distance and tries to reassure Pess physically as well.]

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