Chapter Text
It is a dark and stormy night. Quite appropriate, for the tragic events that transpired in an office shared by two legendary detectives. A young woman with long brown hair cradles her unconscious sister in her arms and sobs. The other usual occupant of this office stares out through a tall window, quite pointedly not looking at his partner in crime-solving, or at the body laid on a stretcher and covered in a sheet pending an autopsy report.
He does look up, however, when a trio of lower-ranking detectives bursts through the doors, led by a young man in a poncho and a cowboy hat, demanding, “Where’s my brother?”
The blonde woman beside him looks to the sheet-covered body, and flinches. The third newcomer, a white-hatted man with a goatee, follows her gaze and puts a hand on the cowboy’s arm. “Jake, we should…”
“Where’s my brother?”
At last, the man staring out the window turns to greet the newcomers, his hands held neutrally behind his back as he nods respectfully. “Detective Goodman, Detective Starr… Detective Marshall. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but…”
Detective Marshall, at last, sees the body. His eyes widen, and he chokes out a desperate, “No, no, no! That…” He drops to his knees beside the sheet, and reaches out as if to pull it back, but thinks better of it. “Chief Gant, who— who killed my brother?”
Across the room, unnoticed by any of the others, Gant’s partner holds her sister closer. Gant, however, takes his time in answering—and is saved from doing so at all by someone else waking up. A formerly unconscious man on the floor, hands handcuffed behind his back—and Marshall gasps as he realizes who it is.
“Ah, Joe Darke.” Gant leans down and drags the man up roughly by his lapels. His eyes glint dangerously. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Prosecutor Neil Marshall, among other things. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Any questions?”
At last, the power flickers back on—illuminating clearly the wordless, furious glare that Darke gives in return.
February 20, 10:09 AM
Detention Center
“And with that, I believe you’ll be free within the hour, Ms. Green. Just some last pieces of paperwork to put through, but that’s mostly a formality if anything.” Mia smiles warmly at her client. “Any last questions you have for me before I bid you farewell?”
“Honestly, you answered most of my questions in the trial,” her (former now, she figures) client says, returning her smile. “I’ve just got one, although it’s more of a personal question.”
Mia raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Reina Green—or Rei, as she’d made it quite clear she preferred to be called—looks away, and blushes a little. “Um… that young man, your partner… I think he said his name was White?”
“Wright,” Mia corrects, perhaps a tad more harshly than she needed to. “Yes?”
“W-well, he’s quite attractive, and… well…” The blush deepens. “I was just wondering why he wasn’t here today? Is he… okay? Did something happen between you two?”
Oh. Oh. Well, this is awkward. Probably a good thing the kid isn’t here right now. “Oh, no, he’s… not actually a lawyer yet. Still in law school. He had a minor coursework emergency and his break’s almost over, so I told him to focus on actually getting through his law classes and let me finish off this case.”
“Ah.” Rei looks markedly disappointed. “Hey, do you think—you have my number, right? Could you maybe… give it to him?”
“I’ll let him know you were asking after him,” Mia says, “though I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“That’s… about what I expected. But… oh! Uh, while you’re here: thank you, Ms. Fey. Almost forgot to actually thank you.”
Mia decides not to think about the implications of the fact that she was merely an afterthought. Instead, she nods, and stands, and pushes in her chair. “Enjoy your innocence, Ms. Green.”
On that note, and with a final parting smile, she exits the visitor’s room, pulling out her phone as she walks. Phoenix’s texted her about an… essay? That he’s been procrastinating on? About… ah. A notable prosecutor in the legal community.
No bias at all in law towards the prosecution and against the defense, oh no. Never. And of course that bias would never carry over to even law school. She sends a text back, asking if he’s been assigned any specific prosecutor—she is going to be very annoyed if he’s been assigned to write an essay on Manfred von Karma, to put it bluntly—then catches a glimpse of movement in the halls, and looks up hopefully.
“Hi, La…” She trails off. “Oh, Detective Gant! Good to see you. Have you, um, seen Lana anywhere…?”
“She’s handling some paperwork back at the precinct,” Gant says with a shrug. “Though, just between you and me, Ms. Fey…”
“Yes?”
He leans in and says, in a low tone, “Darke. We got him. Finally.”
Mia gasps. “You did? That’s incredible news. When did it happen? This morning? Last night? ...wait, why are you telling me this and not…”
“Lana?” Gant guesses. “There were some… ah, unfortunate circumstances surrounding Darke’s arrest. There has been another victim, though at least this time, he didn’t cover his tracks well enough. We’ve got him, at last.”
“That’s good. Wait… another victim… is Lana…?”
“A bit shaken up, but otherwise alright.” Gant smiles warmly. “As is her little sister, though it was a very near thing.”
“Ema was almost—oh god, I need to call her right now.”
“Wait.” Gant places a hand on her arm. “While you’re here, Ms. Fey…”
Somehow, Mia gets the feeling she’s not going to like what her girlfriend’s work partner is about to say. But she nods and slips her phone back into her pocket dutifully.
“You have a strange… knack, I should say, for finding the truth of matters against the odds. Lana has often spoken highly of it, and you. Therefore, while I am nearly certain that Darke is responsible for this most recent murder…”
“You want me to talk to him,” Mia deduces. Her hand unconsciously finds her magatama. “You want me to talk to Joe Darke?”
Gant nods. “If it wouldn’t be too much to ask, I’d like you to defend him.”
“What. I… what? Detective, I defend clients I believe in. I can’t believe in a mass murderer. Never mind someone who tried to kill my girlfriend’s sister.”
“Oh, make no mistake, Ms. Fey. I wouldn’t want you to win, merely to uncover the truth of the matter. In fact, I suspect Darke himself would want much the same—he has pleaded guilty to his first five murders, though not the sixth. Regardless of what occurs, Darke will receive the death penalty.”
“But you think someone else killed his sixth victim?”
“The possibility is undeniable, and I did not become the acting Chief of Police by ignoring possibilities, no matter how unlikely they may seem.”
“Acting Chief of… oh, congratulations, sir.” Mia takes a deep breath. She hasn’t seen any psyche-locks, and she’s reasonably sure her magatama is still mostly charged—she hasn’t exactly been using it very much lately. “I… guess I can look into it. I won’t promise anything beyond that.”
Gant smiles, though this time, it’s much less warm. “I wouldn’t ask you to do so, Ms. Fey.”
February 20, 10:21 AM
Detention Center
Joe Darke is a wan, pallid man, with a carefully neutral expression on his face and his hands folded in his lap as he watches Mia approach and pull up a chair. He doesn’t look like a serial killer, though Mia knows better than to trust appearances by now, in this line of work. The important thing is that she’s double-checked, her magatama is now fully charged with spiritual energy, and she supposes that’s one good thing about Phoenix being stuck writing a horrible essay about, almost certainly, some horrible prosecutor: she can actually use what few advantages being born a Fey afforded her.
Somehow, somehow, Mia gets the feeling she’s going to need them.
“Are you my attorney?” Darke asks, after a long moment spent looking her over. He speaks in a distinct, detached sort of monotone, the kind of emotionless voice Mia would expect from a robot over a living person, even if that living person is a dead man walking.
He is, it seems, already a broken man. That does not excuse his actions. In fact, his attitude is almost certainly a direct result of his actions.
“I’m still deciding whether I want to take your case or not,” Mia informs him primly. “Make no mistake, Mr. Darke—I am as happy about this as you are.”
“Far be it from me to look a gift attorney in the mouth. And yet… I cannot help but wonder why any attorney familiar with my actions would approach me. Do you view it as a point of pride? Will you attempt to prove that I did not slaughter any of them?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not that kind of attorney.”
“Then what kind of attorney are you, Ms…?”
“Fey. Mia Fey.”
The man behind the glass inclines his head in a nod, the first hint of any kind of reaction from him. “Joe Darke, though you already knew that.”
Mia nods as well, though she is already crafting an answer to his question. “I’m the kind of attorney who wants justice, Mr. Darke, and you are the kind of man that makes me almost wish I’d studied to become a prosecutor just so I could put you away myself. And I’m not a fan of prosecutors.” She leans forward towards the glass and says, “However, I want justice for everyone, even you. I have been informed that while you do not attempt to dispute the first five charges…”
“Six,” Darke corrects. “There are a total of seven, I believe. Six counts of murder and one of attempted murder.”
“You—you’re claiming you didn’t try to kill E—that girl?”
“I will not claim that was not my intent, though I had scarcely taken a step toward her before I was… interrupted, shall we say.” Darke steeples his fingers appraisingly. “However, I did not at the time have a weapon. My switchblade, which was removed from me upon my first arrest, somehow found its way into another man’s back. I did not possess it at the time, and therefore could not have stabbed him.”
As reluctant as Mia is to admit it, Darke’s claims do have a certain thread of logic to them. “Why should I believe you?”
“Oh, you shouldn’t. No sane person would.”
“Perhaps not,” Mia agrees. She grips her magatama. “Tell me the truth, Mr. Darke. Did you kill…” She trails off, as it occurs to her she doesn’t actually know who his alleged final victim was.
“Neil Marshall, I believe,” Darke supplies.
“Neil Marshall? As in Prosecutor Neil Marshall? Damn, he was one of the tolerable ones.” Mia sighs, but nevertheless concentrates on the magatama thrumming with psychic energy beneath her fingers, and asks, “Did you kill Neil Marshall?”
“As far as I can remember, I did not kill Neil Marshall.”
No psyche-locks.
He… didn’t kill Prosecutor Marshall. But then, who did? Mia takes a deep breath and says, “Right. In that case, yes, I’ll be your attorney. Do you happen to know when your trial is?”
“Tomorrow,” Darke says plainly, and Mia groans. “Are you perhaps having second thoughts?”
“Mr. Darke, this entire case is going to be me having second thoughts. But in this particular count of murder, I know you’re innocent. And I’m going to prove it.” She gets up, pushes her chair in, and adds, “For now, I’ve got some serious investigation to do. See you tomorrow.”
Mia’s barely made it out the door before she has to choke back a sob. This feels like a betrayal, somehow. But—Darke is innocent. Not in general, but in the murder of Prosecutor Marshall.
There must be evidence proving that somewhere. A part of her doesn’t want to prove it, but… her magatama has never failed her yet. It’s a shame that attempting to use that as evidence would result in being laughed out of court at best.
Her phone buzzes. She pulls it out, desperate for a distraction while simultaneously hoping against hope that it isn’t Lana. It couldn’t be Lana, could it? She couldn’t know already, could she?
It’s not Lana. It’s a text from Phoenix. Well, she’ll need something to do on the bus to the precinct, and she did tell him he could ask her anything for his essay.
Conversation with: MLM Elle Woods
thoughts on prosecutor edgeworth?
stuck up prick who looks and acts like a Victorian nobleman, why?
...wait
Phoenix please tell me you haven’t been assigned HIM
haha
um
okay, well first of all, man’s a dick, remember that
I’ve had exactly one case against him and I would advise you against looking into it
let’s just say I was too shaken up by it to set foot inside another courtroom until your case and leave it at that
he was that bad huh :(
eh, he wasn’t the reason I couldn’t do anything inside a courtroom for a wholeass year
that was… yeah, okay, just trust me kid and don’t look into it
ok
most people don’t count it, anyway, a “no verdict declared” isn’t a guilty verdict after all
bastard’s smart as a whip, I’ll give him that
he just sucks
not holding a grudge at all, are we? :P
of course not
I haven’t faced him again since
but I’m gonna kick his ass when I do
cant wait!!
February 20, 10:59 AM
Police Department
Criminal Affairs
Lana’s here, because of course she is, though the rest of the department seems to be deserted. She’s so engrossed in paperwork that she doesn’t hear the door to the precinct open, nor does she look up at Mia’s entrance. She only notices her when Mia wraps her arms around her from behind, and then she nearly jumps out of her chair.
“Just me, Lana,” Mia says, and Lana relaxes a little. The fact that she doesn’t immediately ask her to tone it down because they’re at work speaks volumes of how stressed she is. “Heard about what happened. How are you holding up?”
“Ema’s… Ema’s not gone too,” Lana says quietly. “That’s the important part. That—that horrible man… how much did you hear?”
“To be honest, not very much. I heard that you finally have enough evidence to convict Darke…”
“For this latest murder, yes. We’re relying on his confession for the others.” Lana buries her head in her hands. “Do you know who he killed?”
“Neil Marshall. The… the prosecutor?”
“Yes.”
“I liked him. Much as I can like a prosecutor, anyway.”
Lana nods. Her shoulders shake. “He was a good man. But it… it could have so easily been Ema. It was so close, and I…” She takes a deep breath. “Enough about me. Did you come just to see me, or…?”
Mia tries not to wince. “Not just to see you, no. I… may have a case.”
“You… may have a case?”
She pulls away, and pulls out the attorney request papers, passing them to Lana. “Before you… say anything, I need you to know that your partner asked me specifically to take this case, and—”
“Damon asked you to…” Lana trails off as she sees the name on the paper. “No. No, Mia, you—you can’t.”
“I’m not defending him for his first five murders. He’s going to be executed regardless. But—” Mia takes a deep breath. “Gant seemed to think there was something strange going on with what happened to Marshall, and…”
“There was nothing strange going on with Marshall’s murder,” Lana says tightly. “All the evidence points to him, and we have a witness. Why would Damon…?”
“I don’t know any better than you do,” Mia replies. “Lana, are you…?”
“Fine! Fine, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
Mia would be able to tell just from looking at her that she isn’t fine. But the chains only she can see, culminating in five— five! —psyche-locks surrounding her heart, only further prove what Mia is already pretty sure of. (And that her magatama is, in fact, charged.)
“I don’t know, because your little sister could have been killed? Lana, it’s… it’s okay to not be okay.”
“No, it isn’t. Not now. ” Lana takes a deep breath. “Ask someone else to show you to the crime scene. Marshall or Starr or Goodman. I can’t do this right now. Mia, why did you have to take this case?”
Well, my family heirloom that doubles as a limited-use lie detector didn’t pick up anything when he said he didn’t kill his last alleged victim, and while we’re on the subject, it’s definitely picking up that you’re hiding something—
Yeah, that would go over well. Carefully, Mia says, “Like I said, Gant asked me to, and—you know I won’t try to get someone truly guilty off the hook, Lana. Don’t you?”
“That’s… not what I’m worried about. Mia…”
Wordlessly, Mia goes to take Lana’s hand in hers. Lana jerks away and says, “I think I want to be alone right now, Ms. Fey.”
Mia jerks back like she’s been shot. That— that hurts. And it was meant to. “Very well, Ms. Skye,” she says in return. “I’m sorry.”
Lana doesn’t speak again. Not until Mia is nearly out of the room, looking for someone— anyone— willing to help her. And then, so quietly that she might have imagined it, Lana whispers, “I know.”
February 20, 11:15 AM
Police Department
Lana’s Office
In the very back of Mia’s mind, some part of her had found it odd that Lana was doing her paperwork down in Criminal Affairs instead of up in the office she and Gant shared. Now that she’s actually in Lana’s office, now that she sees the police tape cordoning off Lana’s half and the chalk outline of a body on the floor, now she understands.
God. Lana. Mia doesn’t want to think about what she might be hiding so deeply that it has five psyche-locks, but she’s definitely hiding something. And that, coupled with her… reaction to her being on the case…
Well, that could be explained away by the fact that her sister nearly died, who wouldn’t be traumatized by that? But also… something doesn’t seem right here. Sadly, a magatama doesn’t tell you what someone’s hiding, only that they’re hiding something related to what you just said.
She’s yanked unceremoniously from her thoughts by someone shouting, “Angel, damn you, I don’t care what Gant’s sayin’, you haveta let me in!”
Mia peeks back into the hallway. There’s a couple of detectives she’s vaguely familiar with. Angel would have to be Detective Starr, a shameless flirt known throughout the legal system as the Cough-Up Queen. And… well, it’s kind of impossible to miss one of the two cowboys Mia’s worked with before.
(Though… now he must be the only one left.)
“Jake, I love you, but please.” Angel shakes her head solemnly. “You’re off the case. Too close to it, because, well…”
“Yeah, I know, I know… Lana’s off the case too because of her sister.” Jake bows his head. “But—listen, Ange. It’s… something ain’t right here. I know you’ve seen it too ‘cause you haven’t told me to piss off yet.”
“I’m not… Jake Marshall, you listen to me. Jake, I’m already on thin ice here, you don’t—” Her eyes meet Mia’s. “What are you doing here?”
“Um,” Mia says intelligently. “I’m… sort of… the defense attorney for this case.”
There’s murder in Jake’s eyes. “You what.”
Mia raises her hands in surrender. “Listen, I hate Darke as much as the rest of you. But there’s something that isn’t right here, and—”
The murder turns to triumph, and Jake turns to Angel. “See? See? Even some third-rate defense attorney—”
“Hey!”
“—can see it!”
“I wouldn’t call Ms. Fey third-rate, myself,” Angel observes shrewdly. “Her girlfriend’s always spoken highly of her, after all, and I’ve seen for myself what she can do in a courtroom.”
“Her—girlfriend? What?”
Mia shoots Angel an alarmed look, but the detective merely winks in return. “Jake, who did you think Lana was waxing poetic about? It certainly wasn’t Gant.”
“Now that right there, that’s a mental image I coulda done without,” Jake observes. “Well, hey, that explains a lot anyway. Nice to finally meet ya, Ms... Fey!”
“We… do try to keep things private,” Mia says quietly, with a pointed look towards Angel. “And we’re not on the best terms at the moment.”
“Well, that’s a darn shame, but it makes sense. I’d be pretty mad at you myself if…” Jake trails off. “You ain’t gonna believe me either.”
“Just spit it out already, Jake.” Angel flips her hair with a toss of her head. “Get it over with.”
“My brother, he… he never loses a fight. Never. ”
Mia takes a deep breath. “Darke… didn’t exactly admit it, but I don’t think he won, either. Which means…”
“Something happened I shouldn’t be here for, since I’m still on the case,” Angel concludes. “Tell you what. I’ll buy you ten minutes to investigate.”
Jake blinks. “But Bruce’ll be back from lunch in…”
“Five minutes, yeah. Did I fucking stutter?” Angel smiles and shoves his shoulder. “Ten minutes. Don’t waste it.”
“Right… I knew you knew somethin’ wasn’t right, Ange!”
“I worked with him a few times. If something isn’t right about what happened to him…” Angel rolls her eyes. “Nine minutes. Drop by my desk on your way out, Ms. Fey. I’ll get you a copy of the autopsy report.”
“Thank you,” Mia says. “And, um… call me Mia. Please.”
“Angel Starr, but you already knew that.” Angel touches a couple fingers to her beret before going to lean against the wall. “Well? Eight minutes. Get going.”
“Got it. Come on.” And Mia takes the opportunity to all but drag Jake Marshall into the deserted office. “So… what have we got?”
“Well, hey, if we’re all goin’ on first-name basis, call me Jake.” He tips his hat. “And… hmm, I swear the office looks a bit… different than it did. Not the last time I was here, I couldn’t see very well then, but…”
“Before the murder.”
Jake winces. “Yeah. I’ll let ya know if I figure out what it is.”
Mia surveys the room, biting her lip. Lana’s side of the office is, of course, all cordoned off. Gant’s side isn’t, but there’s a few things that catch her eye nonetheless, like… “That’s certainly… a choice in office decor.”
“The suit of armor?” Jake snorts. “Yeah. It could be worse—I’ve heard Gant wants to put a pipe organ in.”
“A pipe organ?” Mia winces. “I’ll take this over that, thanks. Though…” She moves to touch the tip of the knight’s weapon… a sword? A spear? And lets out a yelp as her fingertip comes away bloody. “Yowch! Damn, that’s sharp. Seems like a bit of a health hazard, to be honest.”
“Hey, Mia! Forgot to tell ya.” Jake beckons her over to the chalk outline. “I’ll ask Ange to get you a picture of this too, but when Lana and Gant arrived on the scene, this… well, s’part of the reason I’m suspicious, actually.”
Mia raises an eyebrow. “What is?”
“When they found my… his body, he was lyin’ facedown on top of Darke, with a—” Jake chokes back a sob. “With a knife in his back. Tip broke off in the wound, as a matter o’ fact.”
“Okay… back up,” Mia says slowly. “Your—the victim was lying on top of Darke, but he was stabbed in the back?”
“I reckoned it was weird too,” Jake says miserably, “but the prosecution’s running theory is that he was stabbed in the back but didn’t die immediately. With the last of his strength, he knocked out Darke, and then…”
“Lights out.” Mia bows her head in respect. “Hey, do you know who’s prosecuting?”
“No idea. Whoever it is, they’ll be takin’ it personally.”
“...though likely not as personally as you.”
Jake takes off his cowboy hat entirely, and holds it to his chest. Honestly, the man looks about a solid breeze away from breaking down entirely. “Absolutely not. Neil, he…”
“He was a good man.” Mia looks Jake in the eyes. “And his killer will pay. Whether it’s Darke, or it’s someone else entirely…”
“Honestly, that’s partly what I’m suspicious about,” Jake admits. “There’s no evidence pointing to anyone but Darke, the slimy bastard who went to extreme lengths to never leave any evidence behind? Sure, he was knocked out, but still…”
“That reminds me. He said the murder weapon was… a knife belonging to him?”
Jake nods. “A switchblade in police custody. Dunno how he got it, unless Neil…” He trails off, suddenly, eyes widening. “Oh, fuck me.”
“I’m a lesbian,” Mia says dryly.
“I figured that, I just… you know what I mean!” Jake throws up his hands in sheer frustration. “Neil must’ve brought it himself. But why would he have it with him for an interrogation?”
“An… interrogation?”
Jake nods again. “My brother, Lana, and Gant were working late working to secure that confession. Lana stepped out for a few minutes. Power went out. Darke saw his chance and took it.”
“And he wound up in… this office?”
“Far as I’m aware, yeah. Lil bambina—that’s Lana’s sis—was waiting for her up here.”
“I… think I can piece together the rest from here.” Mia takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and lets it out. “God. No wonder Lana’s so mad at me.”
Jake snorts. “I’d be mad at you too.”
“But you’re… not.”
“Well, not quite, but I’m pretty fuckin’ mad at everyone right now. You ain’t special.” Jake plops his hat back on his head and grins toothily. “You ain’t… trying to say he didn’t attack Ema Skye, are ya?”
“Absolutely not,” Mia says, and it’s true. “The only thing I’m unsure of is the only thing he didn’t confess to.”
“The murder of my brother.”
Mia’s shoulders sag. “Yeah… that.”
“Seems pretty weird that she’s madder at ya than I am, don’tcha think?”
She almost, almost tells him about the psyche-locks. But then Angel coughs loudly and pointedly from out in the hall. Time’s up. So Mia nods and says instead, quietly, on their way out, “It does.”
February 20, 12:16 PM
Fey & Co. Law Offices
Setting her bag of takeout noodles on her desk, Mia takes a seat behind it and leans back in her chair, eyes closed. Why did she think taking this case was a good idea? She defends the innocent, and Darke is far from innocent.
But in this particular case, he either is or he’s lying so convincingly that her magatama can’t pick up a thing, which is a disturbing thought. Whether he’s lying or not, however, ultimately doesn’t matter.
What matters is that something doesn’t add up here, and she is going to get to the bottom of this. Her noodles mostly finished, she checks the office phone, and finds three unheard messages, all from numbers she doesn’t recognize.
She raises an eyebrow, and taps the button to play the first one. She doesn’t recognize the number, but she does recognize the voice: one Damon Gant.
“Good morning, Ms. Fey,” Gant says smoothly. “I hear you’ve decided to take on Darke’s defense after all. I trust I do not have to tell you that the trial is tomorrow morning, at 10:00 AM, in Courtroom #3 of the District Courthouse. Be aware that the prosecution has not only decisive evidence, but a decisive witness as well.”
“I’ve gotten acquittals on less,” Mia says miserably as the message ends with a beep. She clicks the next one, another number she doesn’t recognize, but a voice she does, from today if nothing else.
“Good morning, Mia! It’s Angel, Angel Starr, though I bet you knew that already.” Mia can practically hear the woman winking. “Just wanted to let you know—you’re going to have a hell of a time getting anywhere tomorrow. Prosecutor Edgeworth’s on the case.”
“Mother fucker,” Mia says.
Well, it could be worse. It could be Prosecutor von Karma, the one she’s dealt with exactly once or his daughter of Maya’s age, an overseas terror that will hopefully, hopefully stay overseas because one von Karma is more than enough.
Third message: oh, hey, that’s Maya.
“Hey sis! So, I sorta… messed up a bit while updating my cell phone,” Maya says sheepishly. “I couldn’t remember your cell number, but I was able to find your office number online… so hey, give me a call when you’re not busy? Thanks!”
Well, she is busy, technically. But also, her head might actually explode if she doesn’t distract herself from the case and fast, and given that Phoenix is apparently about to write an essay on the opposition, she dials Maya’s number and gives her a call.
As the phone rings, Mia looks at the large plant in the corner of her office, and sighs. “What did we get ourselves into this time, Charley?”
Charley doesn’t answer, verbally. But Mia feels encouraged nonetheless.
Conversation with MLM Elle Woods
kid, you’ll never guess who’s prosecuting
YO WHAT
REALLY??? :O
yeah…? why are you so excited?
pff its just a really funny coincidence
hey
hey mia
no
you dont even know what i was going to ask yet!!
you were going to ask to be my co-counsel, and I’m telling you, no.
aww why not?
...don’t you have an essay to write?
well yeah but watching someone in court has got to be WAY more interesting than boring old case records
its research!
sure it is, kid.
sure it is.
:(
get your essay done. if the trial goes to a second day AND your essay’s done, you can come then
fiiiiiine
i hate essays
understandable, you still gotta do them though.
:(
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
>:(