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Maya Fey is having a great day.
She’s not dealing with weird Kurain elders, she’s eating a burger, Nick’s arguing with Edgeworth about Steel Samurai-
Wait.
“-look, I’m just saying, if they wanted to make it believable that the Iron Infant was going to come back for the Golden Sun arc, they shouldn’t have given him such a perfect resolution in the Mountain’s End arc! His story was done! Already told! Nothing more needed!” Edgeworth huffs, clicking his tongue and wagging his finger as Maya watches with wide eyes. That… they… that isn’t even common fandom talk!
“The problem with that argument, Wright, is that Iron Infant is merely a side character in the Mountain’s End arc. That would mean that, although he did have a complete story, it was never told from his perspective, making it irrelevant when considering his appearance in later seasons.” Edgeworth rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t understand basic story elements.”
“You watched Steel Samurai, Nick?!” Maya squeaks, interrupting them as Nick was about to speak. Nick and Edgeworth look at her with twin looks of confusion.
“Uh, no. I’m not watching that.” What?! That’s… they're debating a topic Maya can’t even get online forums to talk about! And Nick was right, too! Fuck Edgeworth! He sucks and is wrong about everything! Edgeworth scoffs.
“Too busy with Kids’ Masterpiece Theater, I presume,” he says snidely. Nick grins at him.
“See, I know you’re saying that to be insulting, but if you get to enjoy your kids’ TV show, so do I! After all, isn’t kids’ media just as valuable and worthwhile as media catered towards older audiences? I can remember someone saying that. Can’t remember who, though. Do you?” Edgeworth scowls.
“Shut up, Wright.”
“Wait, no, hold on!” The nuisances of Maya’s life turn towards her. “How do- why do you know all that?! There’s barely any mention of that stuff on the Wiki!”
“Why would there be arguments for a random debate that’s more opinionated than anything-“
“Opinions? So your arguments aren’t factual?”
“-on a Wiki? Also, shut up, Edgeworth. Your arguments are opinionated and therefore aren't factual too.” Nick makes a face at Edgeworth, who doesn’t return it, but very clearly would’ve if he wasn’t brought up repressed. Maya gapes at them.
“Wha- why are you arguing about something you- huh?!” She can’t even say Nick doesn’t know anything about Steel Samurai! Because he does! He very clearly does!
“He does it in court, so it’s par for the course,” Edgeworth says, tone clipped.
“Edgeworth’s easy enough to beat in an argument that I don’t even need to watch the show,” Nick snarks. Maya wants to strangle them.
“Neither of those explanations make sense!” She shrieks. Nick laughs at her suffering. The audacity of this bitch!
“Come on, Maya, I’ve heard you and Edgeworth talk about it so many times, I’m practically an expert by now.” Maya makes a face at him that he returns because he isn’t quite as repressed as Edgeworth.
“Okay, I know for at least half of that you weren’t listening,” she says, crossing her arms as she drops the face.
“And Edgeworth filled me in with our previous arguments.” See, that answer WOULD work if he didn’t have to know about Steel Samurai to even have the argument in the first place!
“How’d that first argument even go, then?” Maya demands. Nick shrugs.
“I just started naming random cliches assumed through costuming and ended up being right.” …well, that tracks. Edgeworth huffs and crosses his arms.
“That is not what happened. You…”
And then they kept arguing about Steel Samurai. For over an hour.
Jesus Christ, Maya’s confused.
————
Once again, Franziska’s brother is at that blasted defense attorney's office. Of all the fools! But-
Scheiße!
“Phoenix Wright!” She says huffily. She was not startled, because she doesn’t get startled by foolish defense attorneys! Even by defense attorneys… doing whatever that fool is doing. “Where is my brother?” The fool says nothing. He’s completely still, just… staring. His mouth is shut, and while in most situations, this would be nothing short of a miracle, anything would be better than… this. Franziska’s never felt anything like it. She’s been leered at, started down by serial killers, threatened by criminals, and this feels like none of them. The only experience that’s even vaguely similar that she can think of is once when a bird trainer brought a falcon to her school and it had taken to staring at her hair for a bit. But that hardly works, because for once in his life, Phoenix Wright is staring Franziska straight in the eye and-
“Phoenix, are you- oh, hello, Franziska. How are you today?” Franziska snaps her gaze from Phoenix Wright’s, looking straight to her brother, who’s eyebrow arches. She does not feel relieved. She does not! Only fools would think she does!
“Kleiner Bruder,” she hisses. “What is that fool doing?” Miles Edgeworth frowns and looks towards the sofa behind Franziska, where Phoenix Wright lays, stomach down, peering over the arm like some roach looking for food. She watches as her brother covers his mouth, looking very much like he’s trying not to laugh. Fool!
“One moment,” he says when he finally gets his laughter under control. He walks over to Phoenix Wright and looks down at him. Phoenix Wright looks back. They stay there, staring silently as Miles Edgeworth slowly brings his hand in front of Phoenix Wright’s face. Once it gets there, they stay like that for another moment before Miles Edgeworth snaps loudly.
…
…
The fool didn’t even blink.
“Stubborn,” Franziska’s brother chides before striding over to his desk. He opens a drawer, rummages through it, before pulling out some brightly colored plastic. They look to be… ring shaped? Franziska is unsure of their use. Once in his hand, though, he strides back over to the fool, grabs his hand, pries it open, and deposits the rings. Phoenix Wright blinks once, then looks at his hand. His eyes narrow as his lips upturn slightly as he sticks two on his fingers and starts doing… well, Franziska isn’t sure, but the point is, he isn’t staring anymore.
“Now, what are you here for?” Miles Edgeworth prompts, ignoring the noisy rings. Franziska hesitates a moment too long, and in that moment, Phoenix Wright looks back up. His expression is not quite as… odd as earlier, but still, as soon as her brother notices, he’s shoving the defense attorney’s head back down. Phoenix Wright tries to push his head back up, but immediately relaxes when the less foolish of the two starts lightly scratching his scalp, almost melting into the couch. Miles Edgeworth looks down at him once he stops struggling. “Don’t fall asleep again.”
“‘m ‘ot,” the fool mutters, sounding very much like he’s falling asleep, though if Franziska’s being entirely honest, it is quite a bit more comfortable when he is speaking, even if it’s just a tired mumble. At least she now knows he’s human. Her brother gives him a smirk before turning back to Franziska once more.
“What do you need?”
————
Gumshoe likes to think he’s familiar with Mr. Edgeworth’s antics.
There's the salary cutting that never actually happens, the permanent scowl etched into his face, his random rambling about a kids’ TV show… yes, he’s an odd man, but at least he’s some sort of predictable.
Except.
“Are they… are they working together or just ignoring each other?” The new recruit, who's not used to even the most basic of Mr. Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright’s oddities, stammers, watching as Mr. Wright holds up a random candy wrapper, mouth quirked, showing it to Mr. Edgeworth. In turn, Mr. Edgeworth squints at it, before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Mr. Wright pokes his ankle.
Now, the two are always weird when they’re working a case together. Gumshoe doesn’t understand it and probably never will, but, well.
Normally they’re actually talking.
“I have no clue, pal!” Gumshoe exclaims, clapping the new recruit on the back. Oh no, he doesn’t know their name. He needs to check once they get back to the precinct. “But if I had to guess, I’d say they're working together!” Judging by Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworths' gazes immediately snapping towards him, he was perhaps a bit too loud. Mr. Edgeworth scowls and Mr. Wright wrinkles his nose (which Gumshoe has only recently learned means he’s mildly displeased and not absolutely disgusted) before turning back to… whatever they’re doing. The new recruit stares at them with wide eyes.
“Are they normally like this?” They ask, not looking away. Mr. Wright clicks his tongue, shuffling over to the fireplace, staring at the underside intently. Mr. Edgeworth follows him, staring at the topside. He wipes his finger on it, scowling as it picks up dust, which he wipes on Mr. Wright’s shoulder, who grabs his wrist and pulls it towards the underside.
“Well, normally they’re talking!” Gumshoe says nervously, causing Mr. Wright to eye him momentarily before turning back to the fireplace and pushing Mr. Edgeworth’s wrist to run along the bottom of the fireplace shelf. Mr. Edgeworth’s eyes widen and he immediately crouches beside Mr. Wright.
“Can I request not to be on the same crime scenes as them?” The new recruit asks weakly as Mr. Edgeworth starts picking at the spot Mr. Wright showed him. Gumshoe laughs.
“Pal, the reason only you and me are here instead of the usual four or five officers is cause everyone else already did that! They take shifts for it now! Only I work with them on a regular basis!” The new recruit looks scared, which, yeah, fair. Mr. Edgeworth pries whatever he was trying to get open. Out falls… wait, hold on!
“Is that the missing ruby?!” The new recruit squeaks. Mr. Edgeworth turns to them with a smirk as he straightens, ruby in hand. Mr. Wright pokes at the hole, pulling out the long golden chain that was ALSO missing from the museum's temporary exhibit as well. He straightens alongside Mr. Edgeworth, dumping the chain in Mr. Edgeworth’s hand. Mr. Edgeworth strides over and holds out the ruby. Timidly, Gumshoe takes it, accidentally brushing his fingers against Mr. Edgeworth’s palm, which causes Mr. Edgeworth to scowl and retract his hand, wiping it on his coat over and over again before turning to leave. Gumshoe would be offended if Mr. Edgeworth didn't do that with literally everyone except Mr. Wright, who is now following Mr. Edgeworth off the crime scene. Neither thought saying goodbye was all to important, apparently, but neither does Gumshoe, so it all works out!
“They didn’t even say a word,” the new recruit says faintly. “They- they found the ruby and solved the case and didn’t even say a word.” Gumshoe claps their shoulder in comfort, watching the two leave with a slight frown.
"They're just like that!" Before Mr. Wright, yes, Mr. Edgeworth certainly was odd.
Now he’s just straight up weird.
————
Apollo hates working at Wright Anything Agency.
No, really. It's an upgrade from Kristoph Gavin, sure, but the prosecution office from 2016 would have also been an upgrade, so that means next to nothing. And that was before all this.
“Phoenix. Phoenix. Stop that.” Once upon a time, Apollo would be freaking out over the chief prosecutor being in the same room as him. As it so happens, there was also a time where Apollo didn’t dream of breaking Phoenix Wright’s nose at least three times a day, so a once upon a time doesn’t count for anything. “You have to study.” Mr. Wright just clicks his tongue repeatedly, head butting the chief prosecutor over and over again as Mr. Edgeworth tries to push him away. Apollo doesn’t know if they act like siblings, lovers, or a secret third thing. He has money on the secret third thing, though. Literally. Klavier is full of bad ideas.
“Daddy!” Trucy shrieks, barrelling into the room. Goddammit. The one thing that could make this weirder. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” Trucy full on collides with Mr. Wright, who immediately pulls her tight against him as he presses into Mr. Edgeworth’s upper arm, angling his head so that his eyes are completely covered, blocking the light. Mr. Edgeworth sighs.
“My arm is not a pair of sunglasses, Wright.” Mr. Wright makes a noise Apollo didn’t know a human could make, which is really just par for the course. “Or a blue light blocker, for the matter. There are more effective methods than this.”
“Lots,” Mr. Wright clicks absolute nonsensically as he somehow presses in closer. Apollo doesn’t know how he hasn’t broken his nose yet but he also doesn’t know how Mr. Wright walked away from a car crash, which was really just a car colliding with him while going 35 mph, with just a sprained ankle. Mr. Edgeworth sighs again before wiggling his arm to freedom, which causes Mr. Wright to immediately fall closer to press into his side, pulling Trucy, who's started clicking her tongue like Mr. Wright was earlier, with him, pressing her tighter against his chest. Mr. Edgeworth puts his hand on Mr. Wright’s shoulder, who immediately and aggressively shrugs it off, so he puts it behind him, causing Mr. Wright to push at it until it falls off the back of the couch and Mr. Edgeworth, with a look of extreme resignation, threads his fingers into Mr. Wright’s hair, scratching lightly. Mr. Wright clicks approvingly, shifting him and his daughter somehow closer to Mr. Edgeworth. Mr. Edgeworth uses his hand not on Mr. Wright’s head to poke him in the forehead.
“We’re studying tomorrow,” he says sternly. Mr. Wright hums, pushing his head up against Mr. Edgeworth’s hand, which had stilled during the scolding. Mr. Edgeworth sighs again (which, honestly, if he's so fed up with Mr. Wright, he could literally just stand up. Like that's it. Mr. Wright isn't the type to push when someone's uncomfortable with touch. For other things, well, there's a reason Apollo hates him as a boss). He starts scratching once more, which inadvertently causes Mr. Wright to start rubbing Trucy’s upper arm. Trucy frees a hand to slap at it until he stops before once more tucking her arm into the most uncomfortable looking position ever.
And then they stay like that for two hours. Jesus fuck.
————
Klavier has come to expect his boss to be weird.
There’s the professionalism that seems more like a fallback due to not knowing what else to do, his obsessive interest in a children’s TV show, and his rigid moral system that Klavier can’t see being defined as good, bad, or something in between, plus quite a bit more. But he manages. As does everyone else in the office, though Herr Blackquill seems very comfortable with it for whatever reason.
But that's when Herr Wright isn't here.
“Mr. Wright’s in there,” Herr Edgeworth’s secretary, Hannah, says, tone clipped, as Klavier brushes past her. He pauses. Ah, scheiße.
“Does he have a reason to be here?” He asks, very much stalling. Unfortunately, he does have to go in there. Oh, god, hopefully Herr Wright hasn’t just woken up. That's not something Klavier's keen on repeating. Hannah sighs.
“From what I can tell, no, but I don’t think that counts for much.” An unfortunately accurate statement. “But I’m assuming you need to be let in? Since you didn’t just turn away immediately?” Klavier wrinkles his nose but nods. “Best get it over quickly.”
“Ja,” he agrees, finally reaching towards the doorknob. He opens the door slowly (they tend to dislike being startled), and once he can finally see inside, he immediately meets the too-level gazes of two of the top legal minds in Japanifornia. Herr Edgeworth’s gaze flicks back down immediately, though Herr Wright’s stays, face slightly tilted. Taking a breath, Klavier steps inside with a large, flashy smile and a strut.
“Herr Wright! Good to see you! It’s been a bit, ja?” Herr Wright blinks, his expression immediately morphing into something a normal person might wear. He smiles, looking perfectly friendly. Ergh, that's creepy.
“It has! What brings you in here?” For a moment, Klavier takes in their position. Herr Wright is sitting on the couch, a case file and pen in hand. Instead of sitting beside him on the couch, though, Herr Edgeworth is on the floor, pressing himself against Herr Wright’s left leg, legs drawn with his own case file and pen. They both seem entirely comfortable with this, and Klavier has to wonder if it’s him being weird in this situation.
“I must ask Herr Edgeworth for permission to go to a crime scene! You can get me that, ja?” Herr Edgeworth doesn’t even look up, though Herr Wright frowns.
“Can’t you just walk into it?” Well! That sounds illegal! Klavier watches as Herr Edgeworth taps Herr Wright’s ankle twice, causing the attorney to turn towards him. “Is it a prosecutor thing?” Herr Edgeworth tilts his head to the right, eyes slowly drifting towards Herr Wright. “Is it a government employee thing?” Herr Edgeworth turns his head downward. “Just like a general thing?” Herr Edgeworth tilts his head again, this time in the upwards left direction. “Am I not supposed to do it?”
“So may I have permission?” Klavier asks hurriedly. He doesn’t know what they were doing, he doesn’t know what they were trying to do, and he doesn’t know if they were even communicating or just saying and doing things while pretending they stick. Herr Edgeworth looks up to study Klavier before bumping his shoulder lightly against Herr Wright’s leg twice, tapping his ankle again.
“Yes, but not right away. You should have permission in about…” Herr Wright looks down to Herr Edgeworth, who holds up two fingers, one slightly bent downwards. “An hour and a half!” Ah! So they are communicating! Oh, that’s terrifying!
“Okay, thanks!” Klavier forces out hurriedly before turning around and walking out as quickly as he can without betraying that he's absolutely terrified. He thinks they might know anyway. When he finally steps outside, Hannah looks up, eyebrow raised.
“So? How were they?” Klavier just gives her a pained look before immediately planting his face into his hands. It’s fine. This is fine. What’s that mantra Herr Forehead says? He is Klavier Gavin and he is fine!
Oh, god.
————
“What are you- oh, right, it’s my birthday!” Trucy holds back a giggle as she watches her dad walks into the room, entirely unnoticed until he's already through the door. Behind him, Uncle Miles is doing the same. He was supposed to text them when they were on their way. And he did! Trucy just didn’t tell the others!
“You fool! Why didn’t you inform us you were here?!” Aunty Fran demands, pulling her whip tight. Originally, she wasn’t going to come, but as it turns out, all it takes for her to join something is to start planning it in a really awful manner with horrible logistics while she's nearby!
Ah, working with Uncle Miles to mildly manipulate people is great.
“Sorry if I don’t think a light flashing on and a room full of people screaming is the best idea of a good birthday gift,” Uncle Miles says dryly, not even mentioning Trucy. To be fair, he did send it knowing she’d probably not tell anyone. And to be even more fair, he sent it when they were “finishing up” with some filing. Which was over an hour ago. So this isn’t on Trucy!
Ignore the fact that her daddy texted her that he was on his way home ten minutes ago.
“Miley! You ruined it!” Aunty Maya whines, crossing her arms. Then Polly crosses his arms. Cool, accidental mimicry!
“Why do we even bother? We won’t be able to predict what either of them do, so surprising them is useless,” he complains. Daddy tugs Uncle Miles’ wrist before leaning over to whisper something into his ear. Uncle Miles considers it before whispering something back. “Are you guys even paying attention?!”
“Why would they? It was a rhetorical question, right?” Athena asks, legs swinging from where she sits on the counter. Uncle Miles frowns at her but doesn’t say anything. Ha! Not his house, not his rules!
“Yeah, but being acknowledged is nice,” Apollo grumbles.
“I acknowledge you!” Trucy says happily. “Now-“
“Hey, do you guys have anything planned besides like… food?” Her daddy suddenly interrupts. He pauses. “Also, thanks for all this.”
“Height of genuinity,” Uncle Miles mutters. Daddy steps on his foot.
“Naw, we figured you’d probably go along with whatever we said whether you wanted to or not, and I was outvoted on strong arming you into making me burgers,” Aunty Maya says, waving her arm. Aunty Fran crosses her arms.
“Only a fool would refuse to grow a backbone for 37 years,” she snaps. Daddy puts his hand to his chest and leans back dramatically. Then his back cracks and he very quickly straightens. Aunty Fran huffs. “Well, what do you want?” Ha, a bad attempt at not being transparent!
“I’m going to paint my nails!” Daddy says gleefully, brushing past all of them (including the table with the cake, presents, and general decor set up for the party. Unsurprising, really. Both Trucy and Aunty Maya said that it'd probably happen). Aunty Maya slams her hands against the counter.
“I knew it! I knew he’d request that! Pearly, you brought the bag, right? Yeah?" Pearl nods timidly, holding out a bag. Aunty Maya snatches it. "Hey! Hey, Nick, come back here!” She shouts, trailing after Daddy with the overstuffed purple bag. The room’s quiet. Aunty Fran is tightening the coil of her whip then untightening it, over and over, Uncle Miles and Pearls are just watching where Daddy and Aunty Maya disappeared, Athena’s doing some tapping game with her hands, and Polly-
“I can’t say I expected much else, but would it kill him to at least pretend to be excited?” He complains. Uncle Miles’ gaze turns towards him. He frowns.
“He is, though,” he says. “He… can’t you tell?”
“No?!”
“I could hear it. It was pretty quiet, though,” Athena says, ignoring Apollo. “Though, most his emotions tend to be quiet. Low amounts of body language and tone and all that.”
“But his…” Uncle Miles trails off before shaking his head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
“No, no. You must explain this,” Aunty Fran demands. Oh ho ho, this is getting interesting! Hearing Uncle Miles and Daddy explain how they know stuff about each other is always so fun! Uncle Miles squints intently at a spot about 2 meters in front of him. No one’s there, of course. Why would they be?
“I suppose it’s the same way that anyone knows anyone is excited,” he says. “Though I’m exceptionally bad with everyone except him.”
“Oo, you talking about different people with different body languages and the fact that most people’s are just straight up weird?” And there’s Daddy! Oh, he’s holding a lot of nail polish. Polly throws his hands in the air.
“I think it’s yours that’s weird! Not everyone else’s!” Daddy shrugs.
“Well, yours isn’t exactly normal either, ‘Pollo. Truce, what color?”
“What’s that even mean?!”
“Pink!” Daddy shuffles around his hands until one holds… is that seven separate bottles of pink nail polish? Sweet!
“Which one?”
“You have an uncommon communication style,” Uncle Miles says shortly at Polly, who looks even more confused, before coming over beside Daddy, looking at what’s in his hand. He grabs the pink bottles and walks over to Trucy, who’s still considering. She studies them for a second before grabbing the most neon one there. What’s the point of painting your nails if not to be obnoxious, right?
“Ohhh, are they explaining why they’re so weird again?” Aunty Maya exclaims as she strides into the room, hands also full of nail polish. Instead of just holding onto them all, though, she scatters them on the table. One almost hits the cake, but Athena stops it in time. Another one almost falls off. That one Trucy saves!
“They are doing it quite badly,” Aunty Fran snaps as she walks over to the table. She studies them for a moment before grabbing a silvery blue that should be ugly but somehow isn’t.
“Well, yeah. They’re weird,” Athena explains. She picks up a neon yellow. Hey, that’s from the same set as Trucy’s!
“That’s gel, Franziska. Don’t forget to grab the primer and such,” Uncle Miles interjects. Trucy glances at him and sees that he’s grabbed about half of the bottles Daddy had and is lining them on the coffee table. Beside him, Daddy just drops all the ones in his hands onto it. Sadly, no one’s there to save the three that fall off. “Pearl? Do you have a preference for color?”
“O-oh! Just the light pink is fine,” Pearl stammers. As Uncle Miles hands her the bottle she requested and her own bottle of primer, Athena elbows Polly.
“Choose one or I’m making you get the one that’s the same shade as Klavier’s shirt.” Ohhhhhh, Polly grabbed one soooo quick. Though, Trucy would argue it’s much more embarrassing. Green? With his red suit? It’s October, not December! Also, Trucy’s, like, 80% sure Athena’s gonna text Klavier to tell him to wear green nail polish, so. It’ll be fun!
“Ohhh, Athena! Apollo!” Aunty Maya calls. There’s a bottle of purple nail polish in her hands, Trucy notes. “Didya know Nick’s never watched Steel Samurai?”
“We do! Trucy told us!” Athena says gleefully. “Did you know Mr. Edgeworth only likes being scratched around his ears and… how to say… bottom half of his back half of his scalp? Sounds about right! But anyway, I’d say the thing about Mr. Wright liking people playing with his hair if it wasn’t, you know, really obvious.”
“My little brother likes being scratched like a dog? Unsurprising,” Aunty Fran scoffs. “Have any of you ever been around Phoenix Wright right after he wakes up?”
“That doesn’t happen often!” Daddy calls. “No one's seen it besides you, Miles, Trucy, Klavier, and my dad! I think it’s something about me being comfortable in a place but not yet used to sleeping there!”
“Oh! Oh! Oh! What’s he do?!” Aunty Maya asks excitedly. Aunty Fran scowls.
“I… do not have the words to describe it.”
“He stares at you like a cat considering whether or not you’re friend, foe, or prey!” Trucy cheers. “He does that sometimes when he hasn’t just woken up, but he snaps out of it pretty quickly!”
“That explanation is not helpful, Trucy,” Polly complains.
“I like it when Mr. Nick clicks his tongue,” Pearl says suddenly. “And when Mr. Miles… chews? But he doesn’t have any food? And it’s making a noise that sounds painful but he taught me how to do it and it’s really not?”
“Hey! What’s those mean, again?” Aunty Maya calls. Daddy, from where he’s decided to actually set up the nail polish properly, clicks his tongue twice. Uncle Miles, who has come over to the table to grab the nail polish bottles there, chomps.
“You know,” Athena says thoughtfully. “I can hear more emotion in that than anything they ever say. Though it’s kinda weird. Like it’s the wrong frequency or whatever.”
“Aren’t yours also ‘kinda weird’? Cause I specifically remember you saying that,” Daddy says as Uncle Miles arrives at the coffee table. Daddy grabs some of the nail polish in his hands and they both start setting it out. Trucy squints at the bottles. Seems like they’re sorting by color. Cool!
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less jarring!” Daddy pauses for a moment before nodding in agreement. He steals a bottle from Uncle Miles’ side and sets it with one of his groups of colors. Uncle Miles steals it back and puts it back to where it was on his side. Oh, only Daddy’s sorting them by color! Seems like Uncle Miles is sorting by brand! Huh. Trucy would’ve gone with a gradient!
“You still haven’t answered my question!” Polly interjects. “How do you know how each other is feeling? And don’t just say body language! Give examples!”
“Your shoulders are squared, but almost perpendicular to where you’re looking. Head’s slightly down, eyes narrowed with lowered eyebrows, hand twitching as if you’re trying not to point. You’re being confrontational. There, body language example,” Daddy says absentmindedly, backing away from the coffee table, and immediately, Uncle Miles starts grabbing the bottles and sorting them with his system. Daddy stares very obviously at the collapsible legs of the coffee table but thankfully doesn’t do anything.
“I asked for examples of Mr. Edgeworth’s body language!” Polly exclaims. Aunty Fran gives a short nod.
“Yes. Please do give us an example.” Daddy looks at Uncle Miles before leaning closer and muttering something. Uncle Miles reaches up to right behind his ear and starts scratching slightly, but drops it almost immediately.
“Like that! Explain that.” Daddy wrinkles his nose at Polly but nods anyway.
“He’s stressed, likely due to overthinking this event-“ Uncle Miles pokes him. “-and something else that I COULD take a crack at, but I’m going to move along instead. I can tell cause he gets a bit stiff in his movements and his eyes unfocus slightly. Also, Miles, please put on your glasses.” Uncle Miles puts on his glasses. “But anyway, with what just happened, I was asking him if he minded me answering. Could’ve just nudged him, but wasn’t sure if he was following the conversation.” Uncle Miles flicks him. “Okay, he was, but only slightly. Didn’t flick hard enough for him to have been fully paying attention but did do it hard enough to know he that was somewhat paying attention. And-“
“You’re making no sense,” Polly says flatly. Daddy shrugs.
“Body language only makes sense if you kn-“ Uncle Miles elbows him. Hard. “Okay, ow, alright I’ll finish explaining. Him reaching up to touch my hair was his confirmation that talking about this is okay, but him retracting it and not saying anything showed he wasn’t all too invested and slightly overwhelmed. There, explained.”
“That was godawful, like every explanation I’ve ever heard of you guys!” Aunty Maya says cheerfully. Trucy doesn’t agree, but whatever. Not her business if they don’t understand! Or, well, at least understand that not understanding all of it is half the fun!
“Yeah, I don’t get it, but I don’t think we’re really supposed to at this point! The real question is, how do you feel about everyone else’s body language?” Athena asks, eyes glimmering. Uncle Miles straightens.
“No sense.”
“Not a bit,” Daddy agrees. He leans down to look at the nail polish. He grabs a forest green one and shoves it at Uncle Miles.
“Tried to learn. Didn’t work.” Uncle Miles looks at the nail polish, shakes his head, before setting it back down. He nudges an orange one at Daddy, who wrinkles his nose and grabs a sparkly black one instead.
“Did learn. Except did it wrong apparently.” Uncle Miles looks at the one Daddy chose before sighing and picking up a different black one. Sadly, it isn’t sparkly.
“Don’t understand it.”
“I understand his.”
“And I understand his.” Athena squints at them.
“I can’t tell if that’s cute, creepy, or sad,” she says. “I’m going with cute, though, because it makes it much easier to interact with you guys!”
“I’ll take it!” Daddy says. Uncle Miles nudges him and he absentmindedly reaches over to scratch behind Uncle Miles' ear. Uncle Miles' lips upturn as he leans into it. Daddy's lips upturn. “Now: nail polish! Are we painting our own, someone else's, or a weird mix of both? I wanna paint someone else's!”