Ace Attorney - Tea and Coffee

"Hey! Edgeworth!"

The young prosecutor couldn't help snorting in his cup of tea.

Even after that handful of trials against each other, he still did not see how on Earth Phoenix Wright always managed to come across him in the least adapt moments. He did not expect this – seeing him arrive in his own favourite tea room, at half past five in the afternoon, to mess with his Earl Grey and his self-confidence just after a defeat.

He expected Wright to keep far from him, to celebrate and laugh with his crew of friends. The thought made his sudden appearance look even weirder. Miles, for one, was faithful to his destiny; all he had left, he knew, was sitting quietly, and staring for long hours at his amber reflection.

The facts, however, told him otherwise. He was there, and the spiky-haired silhouette walking in from the door doubtlessly counted as decisive evidence.

Resigned, he dipped his teaspoon in the cup and cleared his throat.

"What a surprise, Wright. Long time no see, huh?"

"Oh, come on. Word games are no longer allowed today," Wright replied, scratching his head with an awkward grin. "I'm dead tired, and I suppose you are too, so keep quiet and drink before it gets cold.”

Miles grimaced and coughed louder, in a desperate attempt not to show it. Every time they met out of court, much to his annoyance, Wright happened to act in the strangest possible ways, causing in him the strangest reactions. Certainly, the polite ways he tried to hide them had to look ridiculous to the defense attorney.

"Of course, sir," he hissed from behind his napkin, suffocating the bitter tone through its fabric. "So, what unlucky coincidence brings you here, Wright? Nothing related to cases or investigations, I hope?"

"No, nothing- nothing of the sort, of course," the other answered hastily. "I just dropped by to rest for a minute – you know, I have a very busy evening ahead – and... yes, I only needed a good cup of coffee."

As the attorney cast a glance at the almost deserted room, Miles noticed the most peculiar detail he could remember thinking of. He suddenly observed how Phoenix's bright blue suit looked out of place among the fair colours of the table cloths and the curtains, and the contrast – no less than his own thought – felt so weird he couldn't help smiling to himself.

He was doubtlessly exhausted.

"Take a seat, then," he said, holding out his hand to the empty side of his table. "Unlike other things, my good manners haven't vanished. And, after all, it has been a hard day for both of us."

For a split second, Phoenix seemed to fight back a hint of surprise. Then, with a heartfelt smile, he pulled the elegant chair in front of the prosecutor.

"Oh, thank you. Definitely," he sighed. "It's been a hard day."

The warm rays of the sun, shining bright through the curtains, and the delicate vapours of the teapots filled the air with a pleasant warmth. To them, however, the quiet atmosphere had been replaced with a heavy, dense silence. An old grandfather clock leant against the wall, beating the rhythm of their nervous glances; although they tried hard, neither of them found any words to accompany its sound, until the waiter came with a porcelain mug towards their table.

As soon as the first hint of coffee hit his nostrils, Miles filled his cup to the brim. He didn't want that stinging aroma to break the fragile balance which nothing in the world, if not his favourite beverage, could create. He drank coffee occasionally, when he had to stay awake for long hours; yet, when he was in such a need of calmness as then, he could not bear to smell tea and coffee at the same time. It was something he had always felt inside – they were totally different, almost opposite scents, and utterly impossible to mix.

"So – congratulations for today, Wright," he finally muttered, leaving untouched the sugar bowl Phoenix had pushed towards him. "Your efforts were quite... impressive."
"Excuse me? You... aren't joking, are you?"

"Oh, my," Miles sighed. "Why must you believe I am always hiding my real opinions? Every single time I speak?"

He bit his tongue a moment after, trying not to let his frustration show through. After all, he still couldn't let go of the habit of seeking perfection in every way; losing his temper in front of the defense attorney wouldn't have been perfect at all, especially after a defeat.

Miles shook his head and regained his composure, ignoring the fact that both of them were still avoiding each other's eyes.

"Seriously, your technique – it has improved."

"Improved?"

"A-at least, it doesn't feel like you're clutching at straws all the time.”

"... Thank you.”

Another sip, two blushes in different shades. This time, it was Miles' turn to wait for new words – he could see them coming, and filling Phoenix's expression with deep thought and embarrassment.

"Edgeworth?"

"Yes?"

"I have to ask you something.”

"I hope it is worth it. Go ahead.”

"W-why... well." He intently stared at his cup. "Why do you always do this... I mean, when we meet after a trial?"

Miles decided that, if he pretended not to understand, he would have better chances to endure the conversation. He looked at him with a piercing grey glance and spoke in his most indifferent tone.

"Excuse me? Do what?"

"Every time I try to say something, or to do anything else – well, you kind of escape. We never have the time to, uh, talk calmly."

"What... what else should we talk about?"

A really familiar and puzzled look took control of Phoenix's features.

"W-well... this time, for example, I – I didn't manage to thank you.”

Even with the long experience of acts and bluffs that was part of their jobs, Miles could do nothing to hide the disbelief in his voice.

"Thank me?"

In a moment of complete awareness, Miles understood he was about to lose his rational control on the situation. Yet, according to blue gaze which peered at him from the other side of the table, the attorney looked much more relieved than before; and, for some reason, he seemed to feel the opposite. To him, things were becoming easier, as they grew more and more difficult for Miles. He silently cursed himself and tried to listen to Phoenix, hopefully without gaining a terrible headache in return.

"In my whole working year, today's trial has been the most difficult yet," Phoenix explained, with a cheerful note in his voice. "Still, after all the hard work you had had to deal with, you ended up helping me again.”

"Helping..."

Miles did not complete his sentence; instead, he brought the teacup to his lips once more, buying more time to calm down and study the tangle of his ideas.

"I wasn't helping you," he finally declared, placing the cup back on the saucer with a joyful clink. "I merely do my job, Wright. You should know.”

Neither of them was sure of what the answer would be; nonetheless, they both tried to guess, and waited. Phoenix looked even more thoughtful than he usually did in court; he frowned and opened his mouth several times, before, at last, he could speak again.

"I-I believe a lot of people would disagree, Edgeworth," he said, his eyes obstinately set on his coffee. "Detective Gumshoe, for instance. He immediately said yes when I invited him to the party tonight, but he wants you to be there, because – come on, we all know I wouldn't have made it without your help."

It was very hard to find the appropriate words and break the renewed silence. Before looking in the attorney's eyes, Miles had to collect all his courage – something that, paradoxically, he never needed to do in court.

"Apologize to him for me, please," he asked. "I'm afraid I disagree. But if everyone is that convinced you are right, I won't ask you to believe otherwise."

He let out a deep breath, wondering why a simple conversation was becoming such a torture, and why, in spite of this, he was putting all his care and attention to it.

"In return, I expect you to explain what makes you so sure about it.”

"I see," was his simple reply. "Is this your only question?"

When he nodded, the last thing the prosecutor expected to see was such a smile – so natural, so full of amusement.

"You don't need me to speak, then," said a pleased Phoenix. "You already answered yourself a couple of minutes ago.”

Phoenix allowed himself a mouthful of coffee before going on, looking for new energies in its strong taste. For a few minutes, Miles' eyes never left him; and yet he could not find the explanations they were looking for, until the attorney emptied his mug and spoke again.

"I had expected you to learn, Edgeworth," he continued. "We don't fight for a verdict. We fight for justice, don't we?"

Miles breathed out, not bothering to hide the frustration in his sigh. He did not need to speak – they both remembered, and too well.

"I can lose a trial just as much as you can. Nonetheless, in any case, we try our very best to uncover the truth. It is our job."

For a single instant, in contrast with the decision flooding his voice, Phoenix's lips bent in a humble, melancholic smile, so different from the one Miles was used to seeing.

"When we can make the truth come to light, victory is not mine nor yours. It's ours.”

It was then that, finally, Miles understood how the light which twinkled in Wright's eyes after his successes spoke of much more than simple triumph. It was a mixture of young enthusiasm, of naivety and hope, of the beliefs that fill an uncorrupted soul. It burned with a deep, bizarre affection, and bore the unmistakable touch of sincerity.

In front of that, even legend prosecutor Miles Edgeworth could not find an appropriate answer. He thought as fast as he could for many seconds, trying to unleash his finest irony, until he surrendered to the facts and swallowed many spoonfuls of tea.

If he hadn't wanted to avoid Phoenix's face at all costs, he would have noticed a hint of the wide smirk which blossomed behind the coffee cup right after. The more he lowered his gaze, the wider it grew, and kept shining – because Miles was feeling exactly as Phoenix wanted him to feel, and because, at last, the stormy grey that had filled his eyes from the very beginning of the day was now opening to the light.

He could do nothing but stare and stare, with an intensity that could have pierced the table cloth. Then, when he least expected it, it was Phoenix himself to save him from the silence he had hopelessly sunk him into.

"Oh my, what time is it?" Phoenix cried towards his watch. "Sorry, I really have to go now. I've still got loads of errands to run and shopping to do for the party, all within a couple of hours.”

As the attorney tried to stand up, wear his jacket and find his wallet all at once, Miles lifted his head as slow as he could and looked at him.

"Good afternoon then, Wright. And don't forget."

His voice sounded deeply confident even to his own ears, leaving him torn between disbelief and satisfaction.

"As long as I live, I will choose the path I think is right, no matter what you say."

And again, he noticed, Phoenix proved himself unpredictable. In fact, his reaction could not have been farther from concern – he had the radiant expression of a winner, whose only concession, in the end, was letting Miles say the last word.

No one added anything for the next two minutes; still, before reaching the door, Phoenix turned to him again.

"Edgeworth?"

"Hmm?"

"So, you aren't coming tonight, I guess?"

"Don't count on it.”

"Perfect.”

He walked out the room in a hurry, leaving behind an empty mug of coffee and the brightest smile Miles had seen in weeks.

The prosecutor did not find the strength to stand up and go right away. He stayed, deep in thought, unaware that the evening was falling by then; he sipped the last cold drops of tea, marvelling at how the tight knot which had wrapped his bosom since that morning was now loose and almost weightless.

When he emerged from his thoughts, he found himself alone, staring at the white bottom of his cup.

They both had so many things to learn.