[Come December 25th, a selection of boxes arrive via courier service (rather than being personally delivered) because let's face it, Edgeworth was well aware that he was most likely going to be a fucky mess come the actual Christmas holiday, and so he did what any sensible Type-A person would do and took care of it all early.
I can't promise I won't be indisposed at the time you receive these. I hope I'm not. But out of an abundance of caution, I'm setting this up in advance, to be sure that my intentions are ultimately carried out even if I'm not up to it come the actual day.
I hope you don't find these gifts too untoward, or too puzzling. I'm sure you'll receive an abundance of others from the friends you've undoubtedly made in your time here. However, I didn't want to let the occasion pass without a token of my esteem, or the confirmation of my confidence in you.
I look forward to working with you at the Prosecutor's Office, once the paperwork is all finalized. Here's something to help you look the part.
Best, M. Edgeworth
backdated bc i forgot about these until i did my tags.....
[ Along with the requested forensics tools and the obligatory nice meal tax for making Ema think about her own holiday gift, there are also two more things neatly packaged in (you guessed it!) boring brown paper: a simple floral notebook with matching pen, and a small assortment of thematically-appropriate (read: science-themed) hair scrunchies. Ema also gets a note, unlike poor Lys, but the content is predictably sparse as hell: Thanks for everything.
Please give him an A for effort even if the actual results are more in the B/C range. ]
[ continued from here because i like to crush myself under the weight of too many tags
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A scuba snack? What the hell is that. It's a terrible name for an even more terrible looking drink, and Eustace immediately regrets his decision to hand control of the reins over to Ema when he catches sight of the green monstrosity she's shoving right at him.
Only an iron will (starting to disintegrate from all the alcohol sloshing through him) along with actual respect for Ema's feelings and decisions (sometimes) keeps him from shoving the thing back at her, though none of it stops him from grasping the glass with delicate fingers, as though he's holding a test tube full of radioactive waste rather than a dessert drink. Ah well. He made this bed of his own free will and now he has to lie in it. Bottoms up...! At least it tastes better than it looks after he downs it, though that's hardly a compliment.
Even his unnecessarily tall 6'1" figure can only take so much alcohol in such rapid succession and he leans against her unrepentantly once he finishes his drink, eyes closing as he lets the burn of alcohol spread through his body yet again. His thoughts feel sluggish as he rummages through the messy cabinets of his mind for the right words to answer her question with, and a good amount of silence falls over them as he thinks.
It doesn't help that he doesn't know what he thinks, too many different opinions tugging in conflicting directions. There's no question that a part of him wants to go home, to see the people near and dear to him, and to feel the cold breeze of the wind as it whips past him. But home means a number of different things now, tied to multiple different people rather than a single place. Impossible for him to pick which is more important, and which he's more willing to give up.
He sighs, eyes finally opening to stare at the glass held between his hands. ]
I think anyone who wants to go home should be given the chance. They shouldn't be kept here against their will.
[ Which answers the question of what he thinks as a whole, but definitely doesn't address what he wants for himself. Technically he could just stop here and call it a good enough answer, but that wouldn't be fair to Ema. Out of everyone here he knows, she deserves to know his actual feelings the most.
There's another couple seconds of silence, followed by a much softer, much more hesitant second answer. ]
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→ DELIVERY | DECEMBER 25th
Inside the various boxes, Ema will find a slightly nicer white coat than perhaps she's used to, a forensics kit case, and a handwritten note.]
Miss Skye —
I can't promise I won't be indisposed at the time you receive these. I hope I'm not. But out of an abundance of caution, I'm setting this up in advance, to be sure that my intentions are ultimately carried out even if I'm not up to it come the actual day.
I hope you don't find these gifts too untoward, or too puzzling. I'm sure you'll receive an abundance of others from the friends you've undoubtedly made in your time here. However, I didn't want to let the occasion pass without a token of my esteem, or the confirmation of my confidence in you.
I look forward to working with you at the Prosecutor's Office, once the paperwork is all finalized. Here's something to help you look the part.
Best,
M. Edgeworth
backdated bc i forgot about these until i did my tags.....
Please give him an A for effort even if the actual results are more in the B/C range. ]
no subject
love that you never put anything here despite your claims, also i'm here to make good on my threat
------------------------
A scuba snack? What the hell is that. It's a terrible name for an even more terrible looking drink, and Eustace immediately regrets his decision to hand control of the reins over to Ema when he catches sight of the green monstrosity she's shoving right at him.
Only an iron will (starting to disintegrate from all the alcohol sloshing through him) along with actual respect for Ema's feelings and decisions (sometimes) keeps him from shoving the thing back at her, though none of it stops him from grasping the glass with delicate fingers, as though he's holding a test tube full of radioactive waste rather than a dessert drink. Ah well. He made this bed of his own free will and now he has to lie in it. Bottoms up...! At least it tastes better than it looks after he downs it, though that's hardly a compliment.
Even his unnecessarily tall 6'1" figure can only take so much alcohol in such rapid succession and he leans against her unrepentantly once he finishes his drink, eyes closing as he lets the burn of alcohol spread through his body yet again. His thoughts feel sluggish as he rummages through the messy cabinets of his mind for the right words to answer her question with, and a good amount of silence falls over them as he thinks.
It doesn't help that he doesn't know what he thinks, too many different opinions tugging in conflicting directions. There's no question that a part of him wants to go home, to see the people near and dear to him, and to feel the cold breeze of the wind as it whips past him. But home means a number of different things now, tied to multiple different people rather than a single place. Impossible for him to pick which is more important, and which he's more willing to give up.
He sighs, eyes finally opening to stare at the glass held between his hands. ]
I think anyone who wants to go home should be given the chance. They shouldn't be kept here against their will.
[ Which answers the question of what he thinks as a whole, but definitely doesn't address what he wants for himself. Technically he could just stop here and call it a good enough answer, but that wouldn't be fair to Ema. Out of everyone here he knows, she deserves to know his actual feelings the most.
There's another couple seconds of silence, followed by a much softer, much more hesitant second answer. ]
I don't know if I want to go back.
[ Not if it means he has to leave her. ]