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“Oh no,” Maya says, and Phoenix looks up from the court record, his mind still on the case. “Nick, look.”
So he does, eyes following the line of her pointed finger, and finds Wendy Oldbag sitting on the defense lobby’s battered old couch, blowing her nose heavily into a used tissue, her cheeks wet and red.
“Oh,” Phoenix says, not quite sure what to do. A witness in today’s trial, Oldbag had taken her lumps from Edgeworth this morning. And Phoenix, too, if he’s being honest with himself. They must have pushed her too hard.
“Well go over there!” Maya says, giving him a shove in the woman’s direction. “Say you’re sorry!”
Really it should be Oldbag apologizing; after an hour on the stand, it came to light that she’d never actually seen Phoenix’s client on the day of the murder, just her shoes under the door of a bathroom stall. But still, he hadn’t meant to make her cry. Reluctantly, he walks over.
“So, uh, hi,” he says, standing over Oldbag, shifting awkwardly on his feet. She looks up at him, and when recognition hits, her face turns into an ugly scowl.
“What do you want, whippersnapper? Come to gloat?” she snaps, turning her face back down to her lap. He’s never seen her look so defeated.
“No, of course not.” He hesitates, then takes a seat next to her on the couch. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Edgy-poo!” she exclaims, then lets out a wail. “He’ll never forgive me, not after this one.”
So that’s what it is. He feels less guilty, then, and sorry that he came over here in the first place. Still, he’s here now; he’s got to say something.
“Uh, I mean, I’m sure he’ll get over it.”
“Not this time!” she wails, then blows again into her ratty tissue. “A beautiful man like that, he doesn’t need to waste his time on me.”
She starts on one of her rants then, her words picking up speed until Phoenix is barely able to follow. He gets the gist of it, though: No man will want her now, it’s been so long since she’s been beautiful, she’s got nothing to offer to anyone. He frowns, listening to her go on. No one deserves to feel like that.
“Hey,” he says, cutting her off as he puts a hand on her arm. She looks up at him, wide-eyed. “You’ve got plenty to offer.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” she asks, accusing. He’s not sure if it’s because she’s feeling low, or if it’s because she’s so disinclined to trust him.
“Uh, sure,” he says, wondering what he’ll say next. “You’re, um, very... social, and... attentive...”
He trails off, struggling to think of something else nice to say. She’s regarding him suspiciously, and she asks, “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
“Um, yes?” he says, his voice pitching to make it a question rather than a statement. But Oldbag doesn’t seem to notice or care, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. She scoots a little closer, covers his hand on her arm with her own.
“Really?” she asks, batting her eyes.
“Sure,” he says, more confident now. She seems like she believes him, and he’s happy for that.
Her smile widens, and she forces her fingers through his, lacing them together. He doesn’t have time to be weirded out, though, because then she’s kissing him, which is clearly much weirder. He moves to push her away, but she’s got both of his hands in her own now, holding him in place. He turns his face, breaking the kiss.
Across the room, Maya’s watching them with a dropped jaw.
“Um, hey,” he says awkwardly. “You’re an... attractive?... woman, but uh, I’m just not...”
She grins, nodding, and releases her vice-grip on his hands. “Say no more, whippersnapper. You’ve just gotten more of the Oldbag than you could handle. It happens to the best of them.”
Then she stands and saunters--saunters!--out of the room, throwing him a wink from doorway. Maya rushes over to him, freaking out.
“Nick! Oh my goodness! You must be traumatized! Do you need to go to the doctor?”
He shakes his head, staring blankly at the now empty doorway.
The most horrifying part of the whole ordeal?
Wendy Oldbag was a damn good kisser.