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If it weren’t for the fact that these sort of parties were actually somewhat good for networking, Miles Edgeworth would not even be here.
Most of them are law students, for crying out loud. How any of them can find it in themselves to get drunk and stoned while cavorting around to loud music at all hours of the night is beyond him. But, in law school and after, it’s very much a case of who you know as well as how much you know. So he’s begrudgingly dragged himself out to a kegger at a nearby house belonging to a student who’s only studying law because his very rich father has told him to.
As long as he makes an appearance, ingratiates himself to a few upperclassmen by engaging in conversation and thanks the host (though how much good that will do him if the host gets too drunk to remember being thanked, he’s not sure), he figures he’s at least made the effort.
These sorts of events have never been his forte. He’d managed to avoid house parties in high school but has regrettably attended two others so far in college.
Still, an hour or two of suffering is nothing, especially since the constant social interaction of being in a crowd, even if he isn’t mingling much, will be enough to tire him out to the point of sleeping well tonight. It hasn’t been easy with fall break fast approaching. Why every professor schedules exams at the same time, he’ll never know.
He’s been mindlessly nodding along to a conversation that he hasn’t heard a word of as he stands in a group of seniors all aiming for a job in prosecution just like himself. He thinks it started with talk of the LSATs and is now, somehow, on the topic of last night’s episode of “The Bachelor.” With that topic now at hand he’s just about ready to excuse himself when a commotion erupts near the entrance to the living room.
From his position near the fireplace, he can see someone being dragged inside. It looks, inexplicably, as though the person is wearing a pirate costume.
“The moron actually fell for it,” says a snobby voice to his left. “Why the hell would he actually believe we were holding a costume party?”
The nameless person’s voice is dripping with derision. The crowd in the living room parts among peals of laughter and poorly executed pirate voices calling out jeers.
Miles suddenly gets a clear look at the person in question and recognizes him immediately. There, looking sheepish and very much dressed in a pirate costume, is the law student from his criminal law class. He can see the man’s — Wright’s, if Miles is remembering his name correctly — unique hairstyle poking out from under his captain’s hat.
He’d know that spiky hair anywhere. He stares at it often enough in class as Wright never fails to raise questions and pose theories that are absolutely outlandish. At first, Miles would roll his eyes at the ridiculous scenarios that Wright would hurl at their professor, but as the semester has gone on, he can’t help but feel rather impressed. While the ideas he comes up with are implausible, they are not impossible and he has already pinpointed several loopholes and inadequacies in criminal proceedings that Miles wouldn’t have thought about in a thousand years and it’s only their first year of school.
Bizarre thought processes aside, Wright has the beginnings of an incredible attorney inside of him and Miles can’t help but be intrigued.
These qualities, however, seem to have been overlooked by their peers if they’ve decided to act like bullies towards the only one among them able to think outside of the box.
Despite the mocking, Wright seems to be taking it in good grace, laughing and rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. It’s not until the folks clamoring for photos eventually leave him alone that Miles catches his expression change.
It’s one that Miles knows painfully well. Wright looks beyond embarrassed, he looks mad at himself and crushed and oddly sad and something in Miles’ chest goes tight and hard before sinking into his stomach with a wave of hot guilt.
While he may not have been privy to what has quickly shown itself to be a prank at Wright’s expense, it doesn’t make the feeling go away. He’s … had his fair share of taunting in the past. One doesn’t grow up unscathed with a personality like his.
Wright is making his way into the kitchen, eyes downcast and trying very much to make himself look as small as possible. In an uncharacteristic display of impulsivity, Miles follows.
He doesn’t even bother to excuse himself from the conversation he was in, it’s not like he was even really a part of it anyway. Fighting through the densely packed room, he finally makes it into the kitchen where the area around the food and drinks is less crowded.
Wright’s hat is hard to miss. He’s over in a corner by the fridge talking with abject misery to Larry Butz. Miles rolls his eyes at the sight of him. Butz isn’t a law student, but he somehow manages to weasel his way into every event that Miles has ever been to, whether official or not, for the free food. He’s not even sure what Butz’s major is. But he’s well known around campus.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Larry?”
Miles hears Wright whine as he gets a little closer.
“Dude, I didn’t think you were serious,” Larry shrugs.
“What part of ‘I’m wearing a pirate costume, what are you wearing?’ Doesn’t sound serious to you?” Wright hisses.
“If you’re that worried about it, just leave,” Larry says easily, taking a sip of his drink.
“No, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction,” Wright says with determination as he stands up straighter.
Miles can’t help but notice how broad his shoulders are.
“They can make a fool of me all they want, I’ll show each and everyone of them.”
“It wouldn’t be hard,” Miles interjects by way of introducing himself into the conversation. He bristles at himself for being so rude, but there’s something about the way Wright and Butz are acting with each other that makes him feel like he doesn’t have to keep up appearances.
Two sets of eyes go wide as they turn to look at him and Miles is suddenly struck by the fact that he really has no idea what else to say.
“That is …” he bravely continues, however. “You’ll easily be able to outmatch most of the fools in there.”
Wright’s eyes bulge a little at that. “O-oh … thank you.”
Butz pulls Wright closer by the arm and Miles can swear he hears, “Isn’t this the guy Von Karma raised? The one you’ve got a crus— OOF.”
Wright elbows Butz in the ribs and turns his attention back to Miles who has definitely gone a little stiffer and nervous at the mention of his guardian’s name. He knows his reputation precedes him and, while he does try to meet the standard of perfection drilled into him from an early age, he hopes that it doesn’t ruin his chances with speaking to Wright.
“You wanna join me on the patio?” Wright says with false lightness, ignoring the scowl Butz throws at him for the hit as he gestures to a door to their right.
“Oh, er, sure,” Miles finds himself agreeing, casting a glance at Butz to make sure he isn’t mad about being abandoned. It appears he’s not, if his cheerful call of “Krista! Hey, girl!” is any indication.
With a roll of his eyes, Miles turns and follows Wright out onto the patio at the back of the house. The late October chill is a welcome change from the thick heat of the party. Remarkably, no one else is outside, a fact that Miles is very glad for.
It does, however, lead to an awkward silence.
“Um, thanks for that in there, really,” Wright eventually breaks the quietness between them.
Despite the cool air, Miles feels a slight heat on his cheeks. “Well, it’s true. A disturbing amount of them have no passion for law whatsoever. It’s clear they're either in it for the money or because their parents want them to,” he says with a scoff before realizing that that may have been a little harsh. “I mean … that is …”
A clear and ringing laugh interrupts his stuttering. Wright is looking at him with a wide smile and Miles’ heart does something very strange in his chest.
“Nah, I totally get what you mean. A lot of them are … pretty terrible,” he admits. “Although, if you’re not in it for the money or …”
Wright pauses and Miles remembers that he must know of Miles’ upbringing because Wright continues, “Or … whatever, then what are you in law for?”
“To see justice done. To find the truth,” Miles supplies easily as Wright blinks at him. “And you?”
“To help people.”
He says it so simply, like it’s the only reason there is to devote years of his life to studying the indepth world of law. And he says it so sincerely and with such conviction that, when Miles meets his eyes, he fully believes that Wright will someday save lives and bring change in a big way.
Miles has the sudden and insane thought that he very much wants to be by his side as he does so.
But that is a very heavy thought and this is a party and Miles very much does not want to go down that particular path.
So he hums in agreement and something in his expression must be enough because Phoenix smiles again.
“I’m … sorry for what they did,” Miles says, hoping that the subject change doesn’t sound awkward as it feels leaving his tongue.
“Oh this?” Wright says, gesturing down at his costume. “Well, the jokes on them. I clearly look amazing. The parrot, I think, is a particularly nice touch.”
He says it with such good humor that Miles can’t help a little huff of a laugh. He’s even treated to a little wiggle from the stuffed parrot on Wright’s shoulder.
“It is. Too bad it’s not real. If the absolutely ridiculous scenario you posited in class a few weeks ago were to come to fruition, we could bring its testimony to the dean and get at least several people here expelled for underage drinking.”
Wright laughs with absolute delight at that and Miles is secretly thrilled to have been the cause of it.
“You remember that?”
“Of course. Strange as all of your ideas may be, they are, nevertheless, good questions and real, if slim, possibilities.”
Wright looks at him in awe. “You really think so?”
“Against my better judgement,” Miles says wryly, then instantly worries that it may have been too harsh.
But Wright seems to catch on to his dry humor instantly. “Well, that’s the most glowing praise I’ve received yet,” he says with another laugh.
From there, they start picking apart various wild ideas that Wright has had in class. Some of the things they argue would, in any other circumstances, be considered a massive waste of time. But, they’re fun. Miles hasn’t had such a unique challenge in … well, for as long as he can remember, really.
He’s having so much fun, in fact, that when the door bursts open and a small group of party-goers bursts outside and into the little bubble they have created for themselves, he finds himself resenting them for the interruption.
Leveling them with a glare does nothing since they’re all too inebriated to have even noticed.
“You were saying?” Miles asks, turning back to Wright who is giving him an odd look.
“Oh, just that …” Wright pauses and seems to gather himself before he looks back into Miles’ eyes. “Look, this might be a bit forward of me, but do you wanna get out of here? We could go somewhere and get coffee and continue talking or something. If you want, that is. I mean, even if not that’s fine. Or maybe we could do it another time? Later?”
Wright stops rambling and looks at Miles with an almost nervous expression. Miles thinks of showing up at a coffee shop late at night with Wright, dressed as a pirate and what others might think and …
He doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care at all. In fact, he would be willing to go anywhere right now as long as he got to keep bantering back and forth with Wright for a few more hours.
“Yes, actually, I would. Like to, that is. Now,” is what he says, stilted and awkward and he’s just made it weird, surely.
Wright, however, just smiles another one of his sunshine smiles and brazenly reaches out to take his hand as he leads him back through the party towards the front door.
Miles is all too aware of what this must look like but, with the warmth of Wright’s hand in his own and the memory of the smile given to him just seconds before, he finds he doesn’t give a damn. Not in the slightest.