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Summary
Edgeworth stared him down, the weight of his gaze unrelenting, and he hates it. Hates that what he saw in it is something akin to contempt. Hates that he can also see the regret, sorrow, and fear behind those steel-grey eyes. Hates that he couldn’t find any trace of the boy’s smile from so long ago. Hates that he is even looking for it, knowing he has no right to it.
Or:
Phoenix Wright, the things he realizes, and the things he doesn't.
