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Phoenix likes to think that he’s a reasonable guy, really. The Oldbag thing had always been pretty funny, even if the way Edgeworth actually kept the stuff was weird. Whenever Phoenix had to visit Edgeworth’s office it felt like the stupid toy was staring at him. Mocking him.
(“It’s a statue and a limited edition collectable and it is only polite to accept gifts given from the heart, Wright-”)
And, sure, the thing with Gumshoe had struck him as a bit excessive, even for a close working relationship. Which, uh. That was not. If Phoenix thought about it enough, it seemed to look more like some one sided financial domination stuff, with Gumshoe losing all his money to Edgeworth through what had to be half-deliberate bumbling. Not that he thought about it a lot. He definitely didn’t think about that tall interpol agent with the sharp white grin, either.
It’s not new, okay? When Edgeworth was still Miles he’d gotten ten whole extra special Valentines cards. Phoenix only ever got the ones they made you give to everybody. Edgeworth has always been popular with girls. There had been Ema, but she was just a kid back then, and then that flight attendant, but Phoenix had found her card (call me! heart heart heart Rhoda) in the recycling. Oh, and that sexy judge who wanted Edgeworth’s badge and obviously his something else, too, but Edgeworth would never end up with anyone trying to keep him out of law, so. Nothing to worry about there, he tells himself late at night when he can’t sleep, not-obsessing over the ever expanding laundry list of maybe-suitors.
Simon Blackquill is where Phoenix draws the line.
“This is too much,” Phoenix says, waving the latest letter from the Taka delivery service a bit wildly in the air.
“Simon is more comfortable communicating via the written word,” Edgeworth says at his desk, not looking up from his Important Prosecution Stuff.
“These aren’t communications, they are love letters! This one has quotes! Literary quotes!” Disgusted, Phoenix throws it into the concerningly large pile growing in the corner.
“He’s harmless.”
“Harmless? With this misappropriation of source material? He’s- he’s undermining your authority. Here, he’s not even using this quote right, Sonnet 20 is to a cute younger man and you’re-”
“I’m what?” Edgeworth asks frostily.
“Well, were you for a woman first created?” Phoenix asks, avoiding the topic adroitly. Edgeworth snorts an undignified little laugh at that. “See, that’s what I mean. It’s weird that he’s doing this when he doesn’t even know you.”
“I seem to remember a young man of my acquaintance who was loquacious with his correspondence despite only brief interactions. We have become quite close in later years. Perhaps this will be a similar affair.” Edgeworth peeks up at Phoenix to see if the joke has landed, like he always does. God, Phoenix loves that. It’s so freaking cute.
“Don’t even say that,” Phoenix gripes, distracted. “If I have to fight Simon Blackquill for your hand, I’m coming back in a pine box. Several pine boxes, probably, and you get to tell Trucy why she’s a double orphan.”
Edgeworth’s pen stops moving. It takes a second for Phoenix’s brain to catch up with his mouth.
“Uh,” Phoenix says.
“Ah,” Edgeworth says.
A pause. Edgeworth lays his absurdly expensive fountain pen to the side and folds his hands on the top of the desk calmly. “Your employee displays a vested interest in you as well, you know.”
“Apollo?” Phoenix latches onto the change of subject gratefully. “No way, he decked me once.”
“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” Edgeworth muses, getting to his feet and coming around to the center of the room quite naturally. “I have wanted to ‘deck you’ on several occasions myself.”
Oh! Phoenix brightens. “So you’ll tell him to lay off?”
“If you take me to dinner,” Edgeworth agrees. They shake on it.