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It took Miles Edgeworth a full ten minutes to find the entrance to the Wonder Bar.
It was tucked behind a much larger restaurant at the Silver Lake end of Sunset Boulevard, visible from the street only as a narrow flight of stairs. By the time Miles found it he'd examined several bars and taverns, a couple of quirky boutiques, a rather pretentious-looking coffee shop which he was sure would have charged at least three dollars for a tea bag and a cup of hot water, a blatantly adult leather store, and, at one point, a theoretically closed cafe whose door was still unaccountably unlocked, which had contained a huddle of people at the back of the room and a distinct smell of pot.
It wasn't as if he was completely unfamiliar with the area, Miles thought to himself, as he climbed the stairs to the Wonder Bar a mere five minutes early. A few months ago he'd learned that the Silver Lake comic store had copies of some of the more obscure Steel Samurai manga, and had dutifully tracked them down. He just hadn't really wanted to look around once he had left the store and had what he came for, that was all.
The walls near the top of the stairs were plastered with posters upon posters, garish under colored lights. Several photocopied ones among the upper layers proclaimed “Trucy, Child of Magic.” Outside the door was a short line of people in widely varying styles of dress. Miles was vaguely aware that his elaborate suit conveyed something different, in Silver Lake, than it would in the courthouse. Formality wasn't a shield, here. Miles wasn't sure he liked that.
The line moved quickly. Miles paid the cover charge and entered to find himself in a dimly-lit room filled with small, round tables. The chairs were already half-full, and Miles scanned the crowd. Where would Wright sit, at his daughter's performance? Up at the front, by the stage, most likely. Miles made his way down the room and spied a deep blue jacket over a chair, some familiar dark, messy hair, and – since when did Phoenix Wright wear a waistcoat? It wasn't that he'd expected that Phoenix would keep wearing his old sweatpants. Thank goodness that outfit was a thing of the past. Still, Miles felt a prickle at the back of his neck at the sight of those broad shoulders clad in pale blue over a white shirt. He took a deep breath, and then went to sit down beside his old rival.
“Good evening, Wright.”
“Edgeworth!” Wright smiled expansively. “You made it. Good. Trucy will be so happy.”
“She barely knows me,” Miles pointed out. He and Wright had met up a few times over the past few years – far too infrequently, really – but Trucy had generally remained at home.
“She knows you matter to me,” Wright replied amiably, “and she always likes performing for new people.”
“Oh. Well, I'm glad to be here.” Was that true? He was glad to see Phoenix. “You look well.”
Phoenix looked bemused; Miles kept his face carefully straight. Then his old friend laughed. “Better than my old hoodie, you mean?”
“That's not what I –” Miles began.
“Hey, it's cool, I'm glad I have my badge back. Though my old clothes were perfectly comfortable, I'll have you know.”
“I meant no insult to your, er, sartorial history,” Miles replied, wishing he didn't sound so stiff. “Clothing is just clothing,” he added, feeling as if he was on firmer ground with that sentiment. “You were always you.”
That made Phoenix smile. Miles felt better. The room was filling up, and the lights were starting to dim, so Miles directed his attention to the stage.
A spotlight rose in the center of the stage, where a young woman appeared in a flash of a blue silk cape. Her smile was so brilliant that she had the complete attention of most of the audience before she'd even opened her mouth to proclaim “Welcome, welcome! I am Trucy Wright, child of magic and owner of the world's most amazing pair of panties!” A titter spread across the audience, followed by a louder laugh as, out of thin air, Trucy produced a large pair of bloomers, decorated in an eye-smarting clash of medium blue and hard pink. “Behold! My panties are an extra-dimensional space. All sorts of things show up in there.” Trucy smiled again at the audience as she put her hand in. “Look, it's a trumpet! An alarm clock! Oh, wow, the Pink Princess!” Trucy continued, pulling out an adorable plush toy. More objects followed. Miles was particularly impressed by the kitchen sink, which seemed too large to have fit in there. This was followed by nothing more than a small pack of cards.
“Don't be disappointed,” Trucy explained conspiratorially to the audience. “This pack of cards looks ordinary, but you know it couldn't be. It came from my magic panties!”
The next few minutes were punctuated by all manner of apparently simple objects emerging from the “magic panties,” each of which was invariably proved to have unexpected properties. Then Trucy cheerfully announced the interval and disappeared from the stage in an almost casual flash of smoke.
The room was completely silent for a moment, and then there was some uncertain laughter, followed by applause. Chairs scraped as people began to get up and wander over to the bar. Miles looked over at Trucy's father. “So where does she put all those things when they're not appearing out of that ridiculous pair of bloomers?” he asked curiously.
“You think she tells me?” Wright shook his head. “Trucy's a professional. She doesn't give away her tricks to anyone. I have absolutely no idea how she manages any of it.” He smiled fondly.
Miles smirked. “Not even that second card trick?”
“Oh?” Wright frowned appraisingly and then pulled out a pack of cards from somewhere on his person. “Go on, then, show me.”
Miles took the pack of cards and weighed it in his hand for a moment, clearing his throat, then fanned out the deck with the cards face down. “Pick a card and memorize it.”
Wright pulled a card at random and glanced at it briefly before replacing it obediently on the top of the deck. Miles half-shuffled the cards awkwardly. It was fairly obvious what the shuffle had to avoid doing, but he hadn’t tried this before. He could see Wright trying not to laugh, but the man remained mercifully silent. Miles handed the deck back across the table, trying to remember Trucy's phrasing.
“Deal out the first four rows of four from left to right,” Miles commanded, and Wright did so. Miles swept up the sixteen cards, taking columns apparently at random with the one on Wright's left second. He discarded the top card, just as Trucy had. “Not this one." Then he handed Wright the deck again. “One to the left.”
Wright obediently placed the top card face down on his left.
“One to the right,” Miles continued, indicating the other side.
“Second to the left.”
“Second to the right.”
“Third to the left.”
“Third to the right.”
“Center.”
Miles took a breath, flipped over the central card, and got a grin in response. “Okay, okay, nicely done,” Wright conceded, smiling down at the revealed three of hearts. Then he blinked. “Wait. It's really that simple?”
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” Miles replied, and got a snort in response.
“Trucy's false shuffle is a lot more convincing than yours,” Wright noted, executing the pattern of the trick on his own a second time and revealing the same card. “Huh. Magic.”
“Arithmetic,” Miles corrected mildly.
Wright grinned, leaning back in his chair as he almost absently performed an efficient one-handed shuffle with his right hand. “We should play poker some time.” His grin broadened at Miles's disbelieving look. “Hey, it was just a suggestion.”
“Only if you'll agree to wager any money you win on a chess game afterwards,” Miles snapped back, having finally thought of a suitably robust response.
“And listen to you spend the entire game explaining why my last move was the wrong one?” Wright responded, with exaggerated horror. “Spare me.”
That, Miles considered, put the two of them at a satisfyingly even détente. He sat back, mirroring Wright's relaxed pose, but Wright's mouth started to twitch as soon as their eyes met. It was infectious, the amusement passing back and forth between them until they were both laughing.
“We're ridiculous.” Phoenix covered his face with one hand, and then reached across the table to put that hand on Miles's. They looked at each other. There was a pause as Miles wondered awkwardly if he ought to say something, and then wondered still more awkwardly what that would even be.
“I – I need to use the restroom,” he said instead, and made his way around the side of the bar. The initial line there had, thankfully, diminished considerably. He didn't really need the cubicle but he took one anyway, just for the feeling of relief at shutting the door.
After a few minutes alone, he felt better.
The second half of Trucy's act began with a flourishing wave of Trucy's blue hat – followed by a sudden clatter and a whirl of fabric as a large wooden contraption appeared below the hat.
“It's Mr. Hat! Say hello, Mr. Hat!”
“Hello,” the hat replied obediently, in a growl that was clearly at the bottom of Trucy's vocal range.
“Everyone, say hello to Mr. Hat,” Trucy continued encouragingly. There were a few sheepish “hello”s from various corners of the room. “He can't hear you!”
“Hello!” everyone shouted – or, in Miles's case, said sheepishly in a slightly louder voice.
“Why thank you, everyone,” Mr. Hat responded. Trucy smiled at the audience, and then looked down towards the front and sent a smile straight at Miles. Miles smiled back. He hadn't expected to smile back, but this was apparently what happened when Trucy smiled at you.
“You know, Trucy,” began Mr. Hat.
“Yes, Mr. Hat?”
“I think it's time we brought out the magic box.”
The magic box turned out to be a large, garishly-colored cube, slightly more than a meter in width and height. Trucy opened it at the top and front to reveal a black-and-white striped interior. “Behold the box that will take Mr. Hat to another dimension!”
Mr. Hat's wooden puppet hand tapped Trucy on the shoulder.
“Yes, Mr. Hat, what is it?”
Mr. Hat appeared to whisper in Trucy's ear. “Oh!” Trucy said, and turned to the audience. “Mr. Hat says he has already been to another dimension, several times before.” She turned to look at Miles, smiling sweetly, and extended a hand. “Perhaps you'd like to come, instead?”
Wright had evidently not been expecting this. He looked from the box to Miles, slightly alarmed. “You don't have to,” he murmured quietly. Trucy saw her father's expression and lowered her hand slightly, her face falling.
Miles's heart lurched. “I would be glad to,” he found himself saying, hastily, and shut his eyes at the cheer from the audience. When he opened his eyes again, the smile on Trucy's face was almost worth it. He stepped up onto the stage and gave a resigned bow to the audience. There were some chuckles.
Trucy winked at him over the top of the box after she shut the front panel and then slid a diagonal panel back over Miles. Miles had half the space he'd thought he would have. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Miles Edgeworth was not fond of dark, enclosed spaces.
The back wall of this flimsy box did at least have a reassuring give to it. Miles could see a crack of light through one edge when he leaned against it. He wasn't trapped. He closed his eyes, and listened to the quick rhythm of Trucy's cheerful patter. Some sort of babble about the magic properties of the box, some banter with Mr. Hat, the dramatic opening of (presumably) the front of the box, which Miles couldn't see, but the audience seemed convinced he wasn't there. So, apparently, did Mr. Hat, who asked, in Trucy's silly, growly voice, “Where did he go?”
“Don't you remember, Mr. Hat? To another dimension!”
“Perhaps he's in your panties,” suggested a loud voice from the audience. There were one or two awkward giggles, quickly interrupted by Trucy.
“Shame on you!” she cried. “There is nothing in my panties.” A loud squawk could be heard. “All right, all right, apart from this rubber chicken, there is nothing in my panties.”
The tension-breaking laugh just about lifted the ceiling.
“Okay, let's see if he's come back yet!” Trucy said. There were opening noises at the front of the box. Trucy hadn't removed the diagonal panel, so Miles assumed he ought to stay put. There was a hushed silence, punctuated by one or two remaining giggles. Another beat. “Sorry, Daddy,” Trucy said, in tones of impeccable innocence, “I think I lost your boyfriend.”
“Trucy , we – ” Phoenix began, and then was drowned out by more laughs. Miles would not have given up the cover of the box for anything, in that moment, but he would have given a great deal to be able to see the look on his old friend's face. Bless Trucy.
Now Trucy was, as far as Miles could tell, leaning casually against the box as Mr. Hat somehow performed a trick of his own. How this was achieved, Miles didn't know, but he did see the panel shift up, allowing him to stretch out into the entire space of the box. He took a moment to enjoy the newly-available space and then arranged himself casually. If he had to go through this, he'd make a proper performance of it.
“Good evening,” he drawled, when the box was finally opened, and got a laugh of his own.
“Well done,” Trucy whispered, looking delighted, before turning to the audience. “A big thank-you to our brave volunteer explorer to another dimension!” she called out, before leading them both into a bow. “Don't tell them what you saw, or they'll all want to go,” she added.
Miles returned gratefully to his seat. The final few minutes of the performance were something of a blur. When Trucy had given her final bow, and the applause had died down, he looked over to see his old friend regarding him cautiously.
“That was brave of you,” Phoenix said quietly. Miles shifted awkwardly. “No, really, it was brave. Will you stay for a few minutes? I'm sure Trucy would like to thank you personally.”
Miles nodded, rising as Phoenix did but staying where he was. The room was rapidly emptying, and while Miles would be glad to get home, he could stay for a while longer. “Good,” Phoenix said, warmly, and reached over to squeeze his hand briefly. The gesture was more comforting than Miles would have expected. He searched for a subject of conversation, and realized he hadn't yet used the obvious one.
“Congratulations,” he said, “on your attorney's badge. It's good to have you back.”
Phoenix's smile was almost too broad. “Did you hear about my first case?”
Really? He was going to bring that up? “I heard,” Miles said, voice level. Phoenix's eyes crinkled, and he was about to make some other remark, but just then, Trucy emerged from the back room, still buzzing with energy, and came straight up to Miles.
“You were wonderful!”
“Oh! Well, er, thank you.”
“Wasn't he wonderful, Daddy?”
“Uh, yes,” said Phoenix.
“Thank you so much for helping out! Would you like a cookie?” Trucy added, somehow producing a large plate of cookies from the magic panties, which had appeared suddenly. Miles took one gingerly. It seemed impolite to refuse.
“Careful,” Phoenix said, with a laugh. “You never know where those came from.”
“Nonsense,” said Miles, and took a bite. “I've been to the dimension where these were obtained, after all.”
Trucy's expression was pure sunshine. “Yeah, Daddy! Miles knows,” she proclaimed.
Phoenix looked from Trucy, to Miles, to the cookie, with a kind of awed half-smile. “I'm doomed,” he said.
Trucy giggled. “I have to go and finish tidying some things, but I'll be back out in a minute,” she said, and then she was gone. Miles finished the cookie calmly. It was a good cookie.
“So,” Phoenix said, as if testing something, “what was that you were saying about my first case back?”
“Really, Wright?” Miles responded, taking the offered opening. “An orca? That's your big debut?”
Phoenix relaxed and grinned.“Yep. I'm back!”
“Trust you,” Miles replied. No, he couldn't keep the fondness out of his voice. No, he didn't care. Both Wrights were completely irresistible. That was just the way of the world. No getting around it.
Phoenix smiled unrepentantly. “Orla was very grateful, I'll have you know. She even gave me a kiss, which is more than I can say for some people.” He looked meaningfully at Miles.
Miles felt his mouth quirk. “Careful what you wish for,” he warned, after a moment.
Phoenix snorted. “I'll risk it.”
That, Miles calculated, could have at least two obvious meanings, and whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not, Miles had a response ready for both interpretations. He always did. “Why is that?” he asked, as if the answer didn’t matter, as if it was just another piece of evidence.
Phoenix blushed. “Well, I mean, I, um – it's not very likely, is it?”
“If that's your reasoning, then you should definitely be careful what you wish for.” Miles kept his voice as light as possible. It wasn't easy.
Miles could hear Phoenix breathe in. There was a pause, and then Phoenix closed his eyes and said, “I wish you'd kiss me.” It sounded the way it was phrased, like a wish, but what it was, was a gift. It was far more than Miles would have ever dared to hope he’d get.
Perhaps Miles would have liked to reflect on things a little more, but there was only one way to return a gift like that. Hesitantly, Miles stepped forward. He put a hand on Phoenix's cheek and felt Phoenix relax at the touch. Phoenix's lips parted slightly as Miles's mouth met his. It was as if, at every step, he was giving just a little more than Miles expected, and Miles fell into the kiss with a hint of vertigo, his hands moving of their own accord to cradle the back of Phoenix's head as Phoenix's hands settled on his waist.
They were both breathing shakily when they parted. Phoenix opened his eyes. “Was that real?”
For once, Miles wasn't even remotely tempted to make any of the obvious snarky replies. “Yes,” he said. As exposed as Miles felt, saying that, it seemed like an inadequate response. It would have to do.
“Oh, God,” Phoenix breathed, and pulled Miles back in for another kiss, stronger this time, his hands steady at Miles's hips as his back arched a little and his head tilted. The kiss was good, and right, and long overdue. It was here, now, though – they were here, now – and that was what mattered.
They broke apart, breathing hard. “Oh, God,” Phoenix repeated, stepping back to lean against a nearby table. “Oh, God, this is real, this – you kissed me.” The small, private smile on his face could have outshone Trucy's stage presence by several orders of magnitude.
Miles leaned against the table next to Phoenix and nudged him. “Don't get cocky.” Phoenix laughed, and then suddenly laughed much harder, one hand to his face as he doubled over.
“Bit late for that,” he managed, in between gasps.
Miles blinked. “Oh, for – it is not that funny,” he insisted, trying not to join in with the laugh and failing.
They stood facing each other, once they had calmed down a little, and it seemed only natural to take each other's hands. Phoenix swallowed. “I still can't quite believe this. I think it will take a few days for it to sink in. This is real?” he asked again, his voice steady.
Miles's voice was less steady. “I certainly hope so.”
Phoenix smiled. “Okay, then. Um. Call me.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit. Shit, I have to go, or we'll miss the bus.” He looked back at Miles. “Call me,” he repeated, and then added, with a burst of confidence, “Call me tomorrow.” He let go of Miles's hands. “Trucy?” he called, as he wandered behind the stage.
Trucy gave Miles a cheerful wave as she and her father left the Wonder Bar. Miles followed them out, and turned in the opposite direction, returning to his car. He sank into the driver's seat gratefully, and leaned back against the headrest for a moment. The streetlights blurred, winked out, and then flared again as he slowly closed his eyes and opened them.
“What have I gotten myself into?” he asked the empty car. Phoenix was right. This would take a few days to sink in. It was good, though. It was definitely good.
He started the car. The whole evening hummed through his mind the entire drive home.