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It takes Phoenix a couple of moments after he wakes up to realise that there’s one less child in the room than there should be.
Espella is sleeping soundly in her bed, barely even making a noise - and while Phoenix is glad to see her safe and comfortable, he’s more preoccupied with the fact that Luke isn’t here.
…Can he not have five minutes rest? All he wanted to do was sleep, just for a little bit, and now there’s a missing child, and not only a missing child but a missing child that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on-
But, with everything that’s been going on in Labyrinthia lately, Phoenix supposes that a missing child is actually quite tame. Just because Luke isn’t in his bed doesn’t mean he’s setting muggers on fire, or getting turned into gold, or getting temporary amnesia and thinking he’s a baker.
He’s probably just gone to the bathroom, Phoenix reassures himself, squishing his face back into the pillow to try and get at least some sleep before tomorrow-
He can’t! He can’t go back to sleep anymore, not now he’s getting visions of Rouge trying to make Luke do the chalice puzzle and letting him play with knives in the middle of the night.
Holding back his groan of frustration so he doesn’t wake Espella, Phoenix drags himself out of bed and leaves the room as quietly as he can.
Luke isn’t in the main room of the tavern, and neither is Rouge - and so he lets himself breathe a sigh of relief before investigating further, thankful that Luke hasn’t slipped away in the night to start playing with alcoholic drinks and sharp objects. (Even if Phoenix is sure he would enjoy the puzzle).
Even though he’s sure Luke isn’t there, he checks under all of the tables too, just in case he’s hiding. Because Phoenix doesn’t know! Luke is about as tall as his thigh. There’s no telling whether he’s stood behind a chair leg or hiding in a barrel.
…Phoenix hopes he’s not hiding in a barrel, but if his search for Luke turns up short, he knows where to look next.
When he heads outside, he doesn’t see anything at first - but to his relief, after venturing out and looking back at the tavern from a distance, he spots a bright blue hat around the corner of the building.
Attached to the hat is Luke, sitting on the cobbled floor; he hasn’t noticed Phoenix yet, though, too busy staring at the ground with some sort of vengeance.
(He’d gotten that same death stare from him in court today, and needless to say, he’s very glad he isn’t the ground right now. Luke’s far too good at that, so much so that it has Phoenix wondering if the Professor had taught his apprentice how to menacingly glare at people).
Phoenix steels himself over. Of course he can talk to Luke, even if he doesn’t know what to say and he doesn’t want to get violently stared down by somebody less than half his height. Pearls is a child and he talks to her all the time, so how hard could talking to Luke be? He’s just a slightly older Pearl.
(...Who’s also a boy. And British. And grieving the Professor, who’s now a golden statue. And looks at him like he’s grown a second head whenever he speaks. And has a death glare to rival Edgeworth’s.
…Okay. So he’s nothing like Pearls, and Phoenix has no idea how to speak to him, especially without the Professor present).
With nothing but a dream, a prayer, and his attorney’s badge, Phoenix puts on his best generic-talking-to-children voice and sits down beside him.
“Hey,” he says, hoping Luke can’t somehow sense his awkwardness. “I thought we’d lost you for a second.”
“I just needed some air,” Luke responds almost instantly, not even looking up.
“That’s fine. I was just worried. Thought I’d find you hiding in a barrel.”
Luke doesn’t laugh. Phoenix tries not to cringe internally.
“Sorry,” he says. “I thought I’d be back before you all woke up.”
“Don’t apologise. We all need a break sometimes,” Phoenix says, attempting to ignore Maya’s voice in his head telling him how terrible his conversation skills are. “Are you sure it was just for air, though?”
There’s another, longer, tenser silence.
Phoenix fantasises about the ground caving in and swallowing him whole. Or a UFO coming and beaming him up into space. Or being turned completely into gold.
(...Maybe that last one was a little too soon. He mentally apologises to Luke for the insensitive joke that he didn’t make).
But, he does notice Luke start to relax a little bit - his posture going from very clearly on edge and possibly even frightened to just a tiny bit tense. His shoulders droop and his hat slumps forward, resting on his forehead before he pushes it back up again.
Luke breaks the silence on his own eventually, though he’s still clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about… about Miss Maya.”
Phoenix nearly reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, but remembers that the boy still doesn’t know him all that well, so he decides against it.
“You’ve already apologised,” Phoenix says. “And it’s okay, you know. Even Maya herself said it was okay. You were doing what you thought was right, and nobody can blame you for that.”
Almost immediately, Luke bristles. Did Phoenix somehow strike a nerve with that statement? He’d been sure it was perfectly neutral and he’s telling the kid it was fine after all so surely he couldn’t have taken offence, because why would anyone take offence at being told that they're right?
But, he supposes, Labyrinthia is an unfamiliar place, and now that Layton is gone, Luke doesn’t know anyone. It would be odd if he didn’t act at least a little strange, because he’s a child.
“Even if I thought what I was doing was right, that doesn’t make it right,” he says, pointedly not looking at Phoenix and instead fiddling with the buckle of his shoe.
He tries not to immediately point out how cryptic that is and how weird it is for a thirteen-year-old to talk like that. Somehow Luke goes from excitedly shouting with Espella and Maya to speaking in tongues like he’s an elderly man who’s had a lifetime of troubles, and Phoenix will never understand it.
“What makes you say that?”
Luke just shrugs.
“Luke…” Phoenix begins as gently as he can, bringing his knees up to his chest to mimic the boy’s position. “I know it’s hard without the Professor to talk to. I know this is a new place and you don’t know anyone and you don’t really know me, either, but you can talk to me.”
“...Thank you, Mr Wright,” is all Luke says, staring at the firelight on the other side of the street.
(Okay. He’ll have to push a little harder to get Luke to open up, but what was he expecting? He’s thirteen. And what was Phoenix doing at thirteen? Certainly not talking about his feelings. He doesn't even do that now).
“Maya said it herself. All you did was testify about what you saw,” Phoenix tries to reassure him gently. “Nobody can blame you for that. You just wanted justice for the Professor.”
“It doesn’t matter what I wanted then. Because it still hurt her.”
Okay, Phoenix thinks. Either Luke is doing this on purpose just to mess with him or Luke had something happen to him in the past that’s making him feel overly guilty about testifying against Maya - and Phoenix has a strong feeling it’s the latter. Luke doesn’t seem like the type to mess with him.
(That’s an outright lie, because Luke is the type to mess with him. Just maybe not now both Maya and the Professor are gone).
“Luke, did…” he trails off gingerly, not sure how to phrase what he wants to say. “Did Maya remind you of somebody in particular? Is that why you’re feeling so bad about all of this?”
Now. What Phoenix is expecting is for Luke to roll his eyes and call him old or overbearing or something like that. He's expecting Luke to brush him off or maybe even insult his hair, because that's what everyone else in this town has seemingly taken to every time he says something they mildly disagree with. He’s expecting Luke to say something along the lines of no, I feel bad because I testified against Maya and then she fell into a massive fire pit.
What he’s not expecting is for his vision to rapidly alter as soon as Luke says no - and then for five Psyche-Locks to come rattling down around him, held in place by thick, unforgiving chains.
“Mr Wright?” Luke frowns. “You’re looking at me funny.”
Phoenix has to take a deep breath and steel himself over, because - and he cannot stress this enough - holy shit.
Luke is a child. He hadn’t exactly been expecting him to be upfront about his emotions and his past just like that, given that Phoenix is almost a stranger, but he hadn’t expected a heavily-guarded secret that Luke is actively trying to hide. He didn’t even remember he had the Magatama on him!
Five Psyche-Locks. Luke is so small that they’re practically as big as his head.
But, all things considered, that’s not really that important. He tries to move past the fact that Luke is hiding something from him, and onto what Luke is actually hiding.
It had been a couple of days ago when Phoenix had- well. He doesn’t want to say eavesdropped, because that implies something malicious, but he did happen to listen in on a private conversation between Layton and Luke while they didn’t know he was there.
(Which is totally and definitely eavesdropping. But whatever).
Originally, he’d started doing it because he’d thought that Luke was upset. So (with completely good intentions, he wants to add!) he had pressed his ear to the wooden door of the room Layton and Luke were staying in, and tried to tune in as best he could.
“Miss Maya… really reminds me of Emmy,” Luke was saying quietly.
Phoenix filed that information away for later use, because Maya would have probably loved to know she reminded Luke of someone, even if neither of them knew who it was.
“Miss Fey, wouldn’t do that to you, my boy,” Layton said.
Phoenix isn’t going to lie and say his curiosity wasn't piqued - because who’s Emmy? And what did she do? But it hadn't exactly seemed like the type of conversation he could say he eavesdropped on, because it was clearly personal, and he didn’t want to seem ungentlemanly in front of Layton.
“No, no, I- I forgave her for that anyway,” Luke mumbled. “But I just- I miss her, and when Maya teases me or jokes around with me it just feels like her, and I-”
Through the door sounded a quick shuffle of fabric and a muffled sob. Probably Layton hugging Luke, he thought, but there’s a difference between simply listening in on a conversation and looking through the keyhole to establish what’s going on. There’s a line and that crosses it, Phoenix had thought! Eavesdropping is one thing but spying is another.
On that note, he’d swiftly leaned back from the door and tiptoed away, so the noise of the creaky wooden floorboards didn’t alert Layton and Luke to the fact that he was there, and that he’d heard everything.
“...Mr Wright?” Luke interrupts his thoughts, waving a hand in front of his face to snap him back to reality.
Phoenix barely just holds himself back from putting his head in his hands - because he’s going to have to tell Luke what’s going on, whether he likes it or not. Not knowing what the boy is keeping from him is going to haunt him for the rest of the investigation, and he’s the oldest one here now that the Professor is made of gold. He’s got to take some kind of responsibility for the literal child in front of him who’s apparently determined to keep secrets.
“Luke,” Phoenix says, trying to mentally prepare himself, because up until a couple of days ago he was very happy simply living life as a baker. “I’m going to be honest with you, because you’ve clearly been through a lot, and I’m not going to treat you like a baby. You’re an equal part of this investigation.”
Luke just stares at Phoenix like he’s lost his mind.
“I know you’re hiding something from me,” he explains, pulling the Magatama out of his pocket and watching as Luke’s eyes widen in fascination. “Maya gave this to me. It’s called a Magatama, and lets me see when people have secrets in their hearts, in the form of things called Psyche-Locks.”
Now, though, Luke looks less weirded out by Phoenix and more interested in the Magatama. Which is fine. Good, even, because he’s had enough of being stared down by children. (And losing).
“The Professor would love to see this,” Luke whispers, mesmerised by the glow. “He’s an archaeologist, so he loves even the boring rocks, but…”
Phoenix almost butts in that since Layton is an archaeologist, the rocks are probably not boring and most likely valuable archaeological finds - but then he remembers the giant secret Luke seems so eager to guard, and so the thought is quickly discarded.
“I’m sure he would,” Phoenix says, trying his best to be sympathetic - because even though Luke is hiding something from him, he’s still a child in a completely unfamiliar place and his only friend has been turned into a golden statue and he’s on the run from the knights of Labyrinthia with two almost complete strangers.
“But I know you’re trying to change the subject,” he continues, keeping his voice gentle. “I can still see you’re keeping secrets, remember?”
Luke frowns, reaching out to poke the Magatama and its vibrant green light. “Course I remember.”
Phoenix frowns back at him. “So aren’t you going to…”
“Just because you know I’m keeping a secret doesn’t mean I have to tell you it."
As he says that, Luke crosses his arms and huffs. It’s like the universe is trying to subtly remind Phoenix that he’s negotiating with a child, just to embarrass him.
“What if I prove that you’re lying?” Phoenix says in a complete and utter bluff, hoping Luke doesn’t call him out on the fact that he has basically no proof at all.
…He has his attorney’s badge, just like he always does, but something gives him the impression that Luke’s secret isn’t anything to do with that.
“Don’t you already know I’m lying?” Luke butts back.
“So even if I presented evidence of your lie, you wouldn’t…”
“Do I have to?”
“I mean-” Phoenix splutters- “I guess not, but-”
“Your job sounds so easy. Do criminals just reveal their secrets to you as soon as you catch them out?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Phoenix says, embarrassed - half because Luke is basically ripping his job to shreds, and half because he’s just realised he’s bickering with a thirteen-year-old, and said thirteen-year-old is winning.
Luke shrugs. “I broke a vase in my house once. And Mum knew it was me since she had proof, ‘cause the water from it flooded my socks and the wet footprints led back to my bedroom and I was the only one in the house when it was broken, but I still never said it was me. I just threw my wet socks out the window and denied it forever.”
Phoenix nearly puts his head in his hands in exasperation, because why does nobody know not to play around vases? And why does he know so many people who have a habit of breaking them?
(He makes a mental note to never let Luke go anywhere near Kurain, lest Ami Fey’s urn get shattered. Again).
“God, Luke,” Phoenix groans. “Please, for your own good, never commit a crime. I’m worrying just thinking about you in a court of law.”
Not that Luke hasn’t already been in a court of law, because the whole ‘him testifying against Maya’ was how this whole conversation started - but that basically didn’t count, because it’s a magic court of law where lawyers can use swords and people can bring their goats up to the witness stand and they have only just been introduced to the concept of basic logic.
Luke just rolls his eyes, unaware of the inner crisis Phoenix is having. “There’s no evidence for any of this anyway.”
There is evidence, Phoenix thinks, and it’s got to be the conversation he overheard Layton and Luke having the other night - but he doesn’t exactly want to admit to this thirteen-year-old that he was eavesdropping on a private conversation…
…But he has no other choice. All he can do is fumble through his words and try to make himself seem better than he actually is.
“I, um…” Phoenix starts, very eloquently and articulately. “A couple of days ago, I… overheard… a conversation…”
“You were eavesdropping,” Luke corrects, narrowing his eyes.
Phoenix shrugs, giving up completely. “Maybe. But it means I think I know who Maya reminds you of.”
“It’s very ungentlemanly to eavesdrop,” Luke mutters, just loud enough for Phoenix to hear it - and he’s right, of course, but Phoenix can’t exactly unhear what he listened to.
“Somebody called… Emmy?”
None of the locks break.
But one of them rattles.
The decisive evidence that he’s on the right track, though, isn’t the locks themselves - but rather Luke’s sharp intake of breath, the way he tucks his knees tighter into his chest, the way his small hands tighten.
(And the fact that Phoenix doesn’t feel his head start to scream in pain, obviously. But that’s less important right now).
Phoenix doesn’t often feel guilty about breaking Psyche-Locks, usually because the person is lying to him and he has a duty to get to the truth - but Luke avoids eye contact and finds a sudden interest in the buildings on the other side of the street and it might just be a trick of the light, but Phoenix swears that Luke’s eyes look a little bit more watery than they did a few moments ago.
He feels awful. He’s sure the Professor will turn out fine (because there’s no way somebody could actually turn into gold), but imagine he reunites with Luke and the first thing Luke tells him is that Phoenix made him cry in his absence!
“Emmy… she was the Professor’s assistant,” Luke mumbles out, voice fragile. “And our friend.”
The first lock shatters, but Phoenix isn’t focused on that. He’s too busy fixating on the new piece of evidence in the statement Luke just gave.
“...Was?” Phoenix prompts.
Luke rests his chin on his knees to stop his lower lip from wobbling, and that glint in his eyes is so clear now that it’s definitely tears. Oh god. He wants to know what he’s hiding but he doesn’t want to properly upset Luke, much less make him cry.
“Um,” he says quietly, an audible lump in his throat. “Some… bad stuff happened. She didn’t have to leave, and I didn’t want her to, but… but she still…”
Phoenix raises his eyebrows. From Luke’s usage of ‘was’ and how upset he’d gotten so quickly, he’d been under the impression that whoever Emmy was had died - but now he thinks it was probably worse than that.
A second lock shatters. And while the sound of it breaking is usually music to his ears, all he can hear is Luke’s tiny, sad sniffle, stifled by his own hand.
“I’m sorry if I’m bringing up bad memories,” Phoenix says gently.
Luke just shakes his head, pressing his sleeves to his eyes to catch the tears before they fall. “It’s alright. Are the… the psych locks…?”
“Psyche-Locks,” Phoenix corrects. “And there’s still another three.”
Groaning, Luke puts his head in his hands and comically flops to the floor. “I’ve changed my mind. If my mum had one of these when I broke that vase I’d be a goner.”
Phoenix laughs. Moving past all of the hiding secrets and cryptic statements, Luke isn’t a bad kid, and he’s actually quite funny. He gives him a break while he sits up and readjusts his hat, then leans back against the wall and sighs deeply.
“Do you want me to stop?” Phoenix asks him.
This has actually been one of the easier ones to get through, because he hasn’t gone wrong so far, and given that he’s literally only got one piece of evidence there’s not much place for him to go wrong. It’s refreshing, actually. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got chronic headaches from using the thing so often.
But, despite how simple it’s been to dissect Luke’s secret, he still feels bad.
“...I don’t know yet,” he admits. “Maybe if it gets harder.”
“That’s okay,” Phoenix says, even if the thought of quitting and then having to painstakingly get all the same information out of Luke all over again from the very beginning makes him want to confess to being a witch just so he’s banished to the fires of hell.
(…Maybe that’s a bit overdramatic. But still).
He frowns at the three Psyche-Locks still separating him and Luke, and the awkward way he sort of holds himself back from Phoenix even though they’re sat right next to each other.
As some sort of peace offering, he almost offers to let Luke hold the Magatama because he was so mesmerised by it earlier - but he doesn’t know what that would do to the Psyche-Locks. He can’t say he’s ever offered to let somebody play with the Magatama while trying to rifle through their secrets. Usually he doesn’t even show it to them.
…He imagines offering the Magatama as a toy to somebody like Matt Engarde, and tries not to burst out laughing. This is a serious situation! There’s a thirteen-year-old in front of him who’s very upset!
Instead, he just holds the Magatama in his own hands, because - sue him, if anyone’s going to play with it while discovering secrets, it’s him. He deserves it.
And… in Maya’s absence, it makes him think of her. The glow is familiar, comforting. What would Maya say right now, if she were here in this conversation?
Probably something like you’re torturing the poor kid, Nick, leave him alone! Or maybe stop using the Magatama as a toy, you’re a grown man and it’s a sacred charm! Or, on the off-chance that she might say something useful, it might be you’ve only got one piece of evidence, so you need to use it so hard you run it into the ground!
…He really misses Maya.
But the point still stands that he does only have one piece of evidence. Sure, he could ask more about Emmy herself, but he has a feeling that’s not what Luke is hiding. The so-called ‘bad stuff’ he had mentioned must be what he’s keeping secret, Phoenix concludes.
“In the conversation that I heard-”
“That you snooped on,” Luke interrupts saltily.
“Fine. In your conversation that I was immorally and evilly listening in on when I wasn’t supposed to,” Phoenix corrects himself, and thanks the stars that it made Luke laugh. Congratulations, the Maya in his head tells him! You’re not a total monster for making little Luke cry as soon as you were left alone with him.
(...Thanks, imaginary Maya).
“Layton said ‘Miss Fey wouldn’t do that to you’,” Phoenix recalls. “And you said that you had forgiven her.”
Luke bites the inside of his cheek and clutches the hem of his jumper.
“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me. But I have a feeling that the bad stuff that happened was something she did to you, Luke. What did you forgive her for?”
Luke doesn’t say anything for a long while, and Phoenix doesn’t push him to.
“It’s more complicated than that,” he says weakly, echoing Phoenix’s words from earlier. “It’s… she didn’t mean to. Or- she did, but she was just… loyal to the wrong person, and that wasn’t her fault. He was all she had. And she protected me in the end, so it’s…”
“But she still hurt you,” Phoenix says.
“It’s not like that!” Luke all but shouts, and quickly realises that he’s erupted at Nick - then almost instantaneously shrinks in on himself. “Sorry. I didn’t- I mean, I’m sorry for shouting. But it wasn’t… she isn’t… I don’t want you to think of her badly. She’s my friend.”
As he watches Luke try to even out his breathing and mess with the cuff of his socks, Phoenix holds back a grimace at the bad taste those words leave in his mouth.
Dollie… She… She couldn’t do something like that!
We’re madly in love!
“Luke. Just because she’s your friend doesn’t make whatever she did okay. Just because somebody is your friend doesn’t mean you have to protect them at all costs.”
(Whoever Emmy is, Phoenix wholeheartedly hopes that Luke wouldn’t go as far as to eat a necklace for her. But maybe he’s just projecting).
Luke shakes his head. “Well- well now I don’t want to tell you,” he says childishly. Phoenix nearly curses, because he’d been doing so well with the locks but then he accidentally got too protective over something that happened in the past of a boy he barely even knows, and now Luke is becoming closed off again.
Phoenix sighs, and gently holds out the Magatama in his palm. Luke’s posture softens a little.
“I’m sorry for overstepping,” he quickly tries to backtrack. “You’re right, Luke. I don’t know who Emmy is. I don’t know your situation or what happened or what she did, and I was wrong to assume.”
He can’t decipher the expression on Luke’s face at all.
“If… you would let me,” Phoenix carries on tentatively, “Then I’d like to hear what happened.”
Maybe he’s being a bit hypocritical, because he’s well aware that if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t admit anything about his past, and especially not to Luke. Not to anyone, really - but this is different, isn’t it? Because Luke is a child, and now the Professor is gone he’s somewhat Phoenix’s responsibility.
(That’s what he tells himself, anyway.)
The Psyche-Locks would hinder their investigation if he didn’t break them, because he’d just be thinking about them, about what Luke could possibly have to hide about this woman. About what happened between them. About-
-Luke clears his throat noisily, straightens out his legs, and takes a deep breath in.
“She was a double agent for a military organisation and spying on the Professor the entire time she was with us to get information about an ancient civilisation and she threatened to stab me in the neck so the Professor would give her this artefact called a keystone that they needed to unlock the legacy with,” he blurts out, all in a single breath.
All three of the remaining locks shatter, but the sound pales in comparison to the volume of Phoenix’s jaw dropping open.
It’s not like he’s not used to hearing terrible things, because he’s a defence lawyer and often investigates murders - but coming to London, he didn’t think he’d encounter anything that bad. Even upon meeting him, he’d just assumed Luke was a regular kid. (A little over-the-top and attached to Layton, sure, but by all standards still a regular kid).
Isn’t Luke only thirteen?! Should he be contacting Edgeworth to bring him up to speed on the laws of child endangerment? Why is Luke still going on adventures with the Professor if things like this are happening on them?! And where on Earth are Luke's parents?
“Wait, sorry. That was another lie,” Luke says, innocently tapping on the ends of his shoes. “She didn’t threaten to stab me but she had this really sharp piece of ancient ice held to my neck and then she shouted at the professor to hand over the keystone, so she only implied that she would.”
…Phoenix makes a mental note to definitely research child endangerment laws in the UK. And also therapy.
“Are you- okay?” Phoenix asks him, not sure how else to react to that.
“No! Of course not!” Luke says. “We’re on the run from actual knights and the Professor is a golden statue and we just watched Maya fall into a fiery pit!”
“I didn’t mean that!” Phoenix retorts. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d woken up Espella, even from all the way out here. “I meant what you just told me! What was that?!”
“You asked, Mr Wright!”
For all intents and purposes, Luke is correct, but that doesn’t make it any less shocking.
“So it’s over? All the locks are gone?” He asks, reaching out with his arms to blindly bat the air. “I don’t think I’m keeping anything else from you. About her, anyway. Unless you count that time I ate her crisps and blamed it on the Professor-”
“Luke,” Phoenix cuts him off, exasperated. “The locks are gone, but I’m serious, are you alright? You’re only thirteen and that’s an extremely upsetting thing to go through at any age.”
Luke just shrugs, like being threatened with a sharp object is just any regular Thursday afternoon. “I’m okay now. We still talk. And I was only upset about Maya reminding me of her because I missed her, not because of… you know.”
Without even giving it a second though, Phoenix wraps his arms around Luke in a hug.
…Thirteen-year-old Phoenix would’ve probably found being hugged by an adult annoying or even embarrassing, but Luke slowly and steadily leans into him, leaning his head against Phoenix’s shoulder. He couldn’t not hug him, he thinks, because he practically made him cry and the Professor is missing too and there wouldn’t be anyone else to comfort him.
Phoenix doesn’t have the most perfect babysitting skills in the world, but he’s not going to bring up a traumatic incident from Luke’s past and then just leave him sitting outside by himself.
He hears a tiny, stifled sob from underneath the blue cap, and he squeezes his arms tighter around him. It won’t be as comforting as the Professor, he knows that, but something tells him Luke wouldn’t appreciate him putting on a British accent to mimic Layton in his time of need.
(Even if Phoenix does think his British accent is flawless. But that’s besides the point).
“You okay, buddy?”
Luke nods weakly. “I will be.”
No more Psyche-Locks come up. Thank god.
The moon has moved in the sky from where it was when Phoenix first came out here. He didn’t think he’d left the room that long ago, but it’s definitely not in the same position it was before. They need to get at least some sleep before tomorrow, he knows that - but Luke is clinging to Phoenix like he’s his only comfort and he doesn't have it in his heart to make him let go.
“We’ll get off the floor in a bit, okay?” Phoenix says gently, just trying to give Luke something to focus on. “We can stay here for as long as you need to. I know you miss the Professor.”
The next cry comes quieter than the last one, and Phoenix takes that as some sort of victory. He carries on talking as Luke shifts closer next to him, searching for warmth.
“...It’s gonna be okay,” he carries on, fumbling for something- anything to say. “I was talking to Rouge earlier, you know. She said you had a good head on your shoulders.”
“I know,” Luke mumbles under his breath. “I listened.”
“You listened?” Phoenix asks incredulously, trying to convey the right amount of exasperation in his voice while still keeping it to a soft whisper. “After you gave me all that ‘ungentlemanly’ spiel about me eavesdropping on you?”
Luke laughs softly. Phoenix can hear the tears in his voice but it’s a laugh nonetheless, and it has him patting the boy’s back in reassurance.
“That’s different,” Luke says.
“It’s not,” Phoenix argues childishly. “But, it means you must have heard that I agreed with her. You’re brave, alright? And we’re going to get through this.”
It’s an outright bluff, but Luke doesn’t know him well enough yet to know that it’s a bluff. Hopefully he just accepts it as the truth.
Phoenix thinks he does, because instead of countering his argument, he just starts absentmindedly fiddling with the lapels of Phoenix’s suit as he calms down.
“I like your little badge,” he says in a mumble.
Phoenix has to hold back a cheer at somebody finally recognising how cool his attorney’s badge is. From Maya calling it old to Gumshoe bragging about the superiority of his police badge to literally nobody noticing when a phony version of him had one that was made out of paper, he’d started to get embarrassed showing it off.
“You’re literally the only person to have ever said that,” Phoenix sighs.
With a yawn that he muffles into his hand, Luke sleepily rests his head on Phoenix’s chest.
“I’m… I’m sorry I suspected Maya,” he whispers. “I think deep down I knew she didn’t do it but I just felt… I felt so stupid, ‘cause- because I said to the Professor that she reminded me of Emmy. And- and I thought that because she’s funny and she teases me and stuff, but I- I saw her in there with the Professor, turned to gold, and-”
Luke takes a second to pause, and steady his own breathing. Phoenix’s back is starting to kill with how he’s almost hunched over to hug Luke, but he’s not exactly going to let go. Instead, he just guides Luke’s head with his palm so he can rest more comfortably on him.
Tightening his fist into Phoenix’s suit jacket, Luke carries on. “And I know she didn’t do it! Everyone knows that now. But I just… I didn’t want to be… betrayed again.”
He trails off on that last part, voice dissipating into a whisper, like speaking it aloud will somehow cause it to happen again.
Phoenix bites the inside of his cheek, because if there’s one thing he should absolutely not do while trying to comfort a crying child, it’s burst into tears with him. He just rubs Luke’s shoulders in comforting circles and hopes that it can soothe him well enough to be able to sleep in the absence of the Professor.
There are two things that I consider inexcusable. Poisoning, and betrayal!
Only a coward would hurt people using either of these tactics.
Maybe Luke is less like an older version of Pearl, Phoenix thinks (because that definitely wasn’t anywhere close) and more like a younger version of him.
Is it weird to see parts of himself in the traumatic past of a boy he barely knows? Probably. But Phoenix knows as an undeniable truth that he doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to anyone, much less Luke. As he’s wrapping the boy up in his arms and trying his best to console him in the middle of the night, he hopes it never happens to Luke. He hopes it never gets that bad.
…But perhaps that’s enough projecting onto a thirteen-year-old for one night. Luke said that he’d forgiven Emmy, that they still talk now and that she’s his friend, so it’s clearly not the same situation. From all of that, Phoenix doesn’t think she’ll try to poison him for any sake. (He also doesn’t think calling Luke’s friend a coward to his face is a very good idea).
“It’s silly,” Luke says, fiddling his hands together. “They don’t even look the same. And Emmy’s older than Maya. She's your age, actually - but it… it just made me think of the past, and if- if Maya reminded me so much of my friend, why did I testify against her? Why did I do something that could’ve gotten her killed?”
“Luke… it’s too late in the night to be blaming yourself. It’s past your bedtime, okay?” Phoenix says, obviously the pinnacle of adult wisdom. “If the Professor knew I’d let you stay up this late, he’d hand me over to Inquisitor Barnham.”
Phoenix doesn’t actually know if Luke has a bedtime. But even if he doesn’t, it’s got to be at least two in the morning now, and the last thing he wants on the investigation tomorrow is a cranky thirteen-year-old.
Luke lets out a laugh, and Phoenix congratulates himself at being able to deflect the boy’s misplaced guilt (hopefully for long enough that he stops feeling it).
“...I think I want to go back to bed.”
Given that he’s almost falling asleep on the street as it is, Phoenix agrees. And so he leads Luke back inside, trying to ignore the cobblestone-shaped imprints in his own legs and the stiffness in his back.
(Why, even in a town where magic happens, can he still not catch a break from his own joint pain? Is the Storyteller writing a new chapter where Phoenix suffers from back aches so badly he can’t continue the investigation?)
Before he can even try to get into bed, though, he feels a nervous tug at his hand.
It’s Luke, looking up at him, awkwardly shifting on his feet like he wants to ask something.
“...Can I have a go with the Magatama?”
Phoenix doesn’t want to just refuse him outright, but at the end of the day, it is a sacred charm. And he doesn’t trust Luke not to ask something stupid.
“No,” Phoenix says, and flops onto his bed with all the grace of Emeer Punchenbaug tripping over a rock and landing on his face in the middle of a crime scene.
“Please? Just one question and then I’ll give it back, I promise. I just want to see the psych locks. And call people out on lying. And learn all their deepest darkest secrets. But not in, like, an evil way, or anything, I just-”
Phoenix shoves his pillow over his head, muffling his ears as best he can. “I’m asleep. I can’t hear you.”
“I don’t even need the Magatama to know you’re lying, Mr Wright!”
“Oh? Then I guess you don’t need to use it at all.”
Then comes a sequence of noises: Luke groaning, then climbing up to his own bed, climbing back down, smacking Phoenix with a pillow, and then finally climbing back up to his bed again and settling down.
Phoenix doesn’t exactly appreciate being smacked with a pillow by a thirteen-year-old - but at least he’s managed to take Luke’s mind off of the grief, and off of his past.
He congratulates himself on his excellent babysitting skills and then promptly falls asleep, snoring obnoxiously loudly into the pillow.