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“Nick! Edgey! You guys made it!” Larry waved overenthusiastically from the table on the far side of the bar.
“I think I have a headache already,” Miles said, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes. “Why are we doing this again?”
Phoenix snickered and tugged on Miles’ hand, pulling him over in the direction of Larry’s table. “Come on, it won’t kill you to get out once in a while and socialize. Besides, it’s always better to keep an eye on what Larry’s doing from time to time.”
Mile snorted in agreement at that.
“Now, play nice!” Phoenix insisted.
Phoenix could feel Miles’ smirk behind him. “When have I ever played nice?” he demanded.
“Well,” Phoenix teased, “I can think of a few times…”
Miles sputtered but had no chance to retort as they’d finally arrived at Larry’s table. Miles eyed the bench askance for a moment, as a finicky feline might judge a substandard new cushion, until Phoenix shoved his gorgeous, dithering ass into the booth. With a “harrumph” of supreme displeasure, Miles sat in the seat by the wall while Phoenix scooted in after him. Miles crossed his arms over his chest in huff, but looked somewhat mollified when Phoenix bumped their hips together on the bench so that they were touching.
In the meantime, Larry was babbling a mile a minute. “Man, I thought we’d never get a chance to catch up! You both need to work less. Like, way, way less. And, if possible, you’ve only gotten more boring since you finally hooked up. You two need to do, like, way more things.”
“We do plenty,” Miles coughed into his hand, so that only Phoenix could hear him properly.
Phoenix’s face flamed bright red, and he glared at Miles, who looked entirely too smug for his own good. Miles was such a bastard, and the reminder of that fact really shouldn’t make Phoenix wish they’d stayed home that evening so that he could do all sorts of salacious things to Miles’ body.
“So, Larry,” Phoenix asked, refusing to engage with Miles’ antisocial tendencies, “how’ve you been?”
“Oh, great, great!” Larry said with a grin.
And, to Phoenix’s horror, a clanging sound echoed in the back of his consciousness. As he watched, chains formed around Larry, and two red locks sprung into existence before him.
Oh no… God damn it, Phoenix had meant to leave the magatama at home! He’d been too sleepy to take it out of his pocket after yesterday’s investigation, so he’d meant to do it before they left today, but then Miles had decided to ‘congratulate’ Phoenix on “a case as irrationally and chaotically argued as usual,” and then Phoenix hadn’t been in the general vicinity of his pants for some time, and when he’d finally recovered them, Phoenix and Miles were both running late because somebody – whose name rhymed with Files Wedgeworth – couldn’t keep certain body parts to himself.
Next to Phoenix, Miles must have noticed Phoenix’s posture stiffening, because he raised a curious eyebrow Phoenix’s way.
Phoenix gave him an annoyed look, which caused Miles’ eyes to widen in faux-innocent bafflement, and then Phoenix turned his attention back to Larry. “So,” Phoenix said slowly, “you’re doing great, huh?” The psyche-lock on the right quivered at being pressed.
“Heh-heh, sure, Nick, of course! You know me! Not a care in the world.” Larry laughed, looking even guiltier than usual.
Miles’ eyes narrowed in Larry’s direction as well. Miles might not have had the magatama, but Larry was quite possibly the world’s worst liar.
“I see,” Phoenix said, scratching his chin, “so you’re not in any kind of trouble, then? Say, the sort of trouble that might cause you to invite your two lawyer friends out for drinks, totally out of the blue?” The right psyche-lock shook again, nearly cracking this time.
“Trouble?” Larry repeated in wide-eyed innocence. “You wound me, Nick! You know I’m going places these days! No more trouble for me.”
Phoenix sighed. Why couldn’t he have left the magatama at home? Larry was the absolute worst person to meet while holding it. They hadn’t even gotten past ‘how are you doing?’, for crying out loud!
“I’m guessing,” Phoenix said wearily, “that it’s legal trouble. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have called us.”
As expected, the first psyche-lock broke.
“All right, all right, maybe I do meet up with the authorities from time to time,” Larry conceded. “But that’s to be expected of a successful, avant-garde artist! I’m sticking it to the man every day with my work!”
Phoenix stared at Larry’s remaining psyche-lock incredulously. Honestly, why did Larry even bother at this point? He knew Phoenix would see through his lies. He knew Phoenix would figure it out. Five minutes in, and already Phoenix was exhausted.
“‘Avant-garde’, huh?” Phoenix repeated. “And I suppose these ‘avant-garde’ works of yours are completely, 100% legal?” There twitched the second psyche-lock, like clockwork: if Larry brought up a topic, then it stood to reason that he was hiding something about it.
Larry affected a thoughtful expression. “What does ‘legal’ really mean, in terms of an artist?” he asked.
“It means you obey the law, just like everyone else,” Phoenix explained in exasperation.
Larry shook his head. “But shouldn’t art expand the boundaries of what’s allowed or not? Shouldn’t the artist have free reign to—”
Miles’ eyes suddenly widened. “You’re the one who graffito-tagged the back of the courthouse with that inappropriate mural of my sister!” he accused.
“Ack!” Larry choked out. The psyche-lock shattered, and the chains retracted. Immediately, he switched from lying mode to defensive mode. “It wasn’t inappropriate! She’s wearing clothes, right? And besides I didn’t do anything wrong!” he insisted. “Great graffiti artists do surprise murals all the time! Banksy—”
“You’re not Banksy!” Phoenix and Miles exclaimed at the exact same time.
Then they blinked and looked at each other and smiled shyly.
“Oh man, oh man,” Larry wailed, oblivious to their little moment. “Okay, so… Say, theoretically, maybe I might know who did that? Just how much trouble would he be in, huh? I mean, I’m not, like, going to prison, am I?”
“You are not going to prison,” Miles informed him sternly, “because my sister will whip you to death before then, and they don’t send corpses to prison.”
“You guys have gotta help me!” Larry pleaded. “Pretty please!”
“Help you?” Miles scoffed. “I’m informing Franziska of your guilt and location, as we speak.” He pulled out his phone and began typing away.
“Aww, come on, have a heart, Edgey? Please? Please? I didn’t tell you just so you could narc on me.”
“No,” Miles agreed. “It’s clear that you didn’t intend to tell me at all.”
Phoenix let out a long, weary sigh. He wasn’t sure whether to be frustrated at Larry’s whole…Larry-ness, or relieved that at least the psyche-locks were gone now. “Fine, fine,” Phoenix agreed. “I’ll be your attorney, Larry. We’ll go down to the police station in the morning, and you can make a full confession. If you cooperate, I’ll do my best to get you just the fine to pay for the repairs, and probably a chunk of community-service hours.”
“But that mural was a community service!” Larry insisted.
“You painted a 15-foot-high version of my sister, with bunny ears, whipping…er, what were those, anyway? Raccoons?” Miles’ anger evaporated into bafflement.
“Those were foxes!” Larry insisted. “Foxes! And, really, Franzy’s a hero! A bunny saving her fellow bunnies from their greatest enemy! It’s a promo for my new children’s book!”
Miles groaned and buried his face in his arms on the bar table. “And you chose to deface a public building with this menace?” He peeked out at Phoenix through his fingers. “That’s more obligatory community service there, you realize.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Phoenix agreed. “Okay, tack on those hours too, Larry.”
Larry sniffled pitifully. “You guys are supposed to be my friends!”
“We are your friends,” Phoenix insisted. “We haven’t turned you in to the authorities already, so at least you’ll get credit for good behavior by confessing yourself.”
“Speak for yourself,” Miles said, glancing at his phone. “I’ve turned him in to the appropriate authority. And, after she murders you, I have no intention whatsoever of prosecuting her, because it’s a clear case of justifiable homicide.”
“You’re both the worst!” Larry complained. “All right, fine, I’ll turn myself in since my own lawyer betrayed me.” Larry sniffed. “Man, this lawyering stuff is hard. I’m going to need another drink. What do you guys want? This next round is on me!”
Clang.
Phoenix winced. Not again! But, indeed, when he opened his eyes – yup – there were now three big ol’ red psyche-locks right in front of Larry.
Miles, looking mildly concerned, nudged Phoenix in the side.
Phoenix shook his head ever so slightly. “Get me a stout?” he requested.
“Sure thing, man. What about you, Edgey?”
“I’m driving,” Miles said.
Larry rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Why am I not surprised?” he sighed, and scrambled off in the direction of the bar.
Phoenix waited until Larry was gone before casting a furtive glance at Miles.
“What’s wrong?” Miles asked.
Phoenix double-checked that no one was looking and then pulled the magatama out of his pocket beneath the table, between them, where no one else could see.
“Why are you showing me your—?” Miles began in bewilderment, and then he caught on. “Oh!”
“Yeah, ‘oh!’” Phoenix agreed. “It’s gone off on Larry twice now already.”
“Yes, well,” Miles agreed, “you probably should have left it back home before we came out for drinks with him.”
“Gee,” Phoenix said sarcastically, “why didn’t I think of that? Oh right, because someone distracted me right when we were about to—”
“Here you go, Nick!” Larry set down a drink in front of Phoenix. “They had iced tea too, Edgey, so I got you one of those. You like tea, right?” He set the second drink in front of Miles.
“How…delightful,” Miles said dryly, raising an eyebrow at the iced tea in front of him, abomination that it clearly was.
“Yeah, thanks, Larry,” Phoenix said. “On you, huh?”
The first psyche-lock shuddered, and Larry broke out into a cold sweat. “Anything for my best buds!” he agreed.
Miles raised an eyebrow. It seemed he’d only just spotted this particular lie of Larry’s. Not that Phoenix could blame him: individual lies tended to get drowned out in the background noise of all the other lies Larry told constantly.
“When you said ‘on me’…” Miles began slowly.
Larry grinned and let out a nervous laugh.
“By ‘me’ you actually meant ‘Miles’, right?” Phoenix guessed.
“Haha, of course not,” Larry insisted. “There’s no way I’d go out to a bar and put all the drinks – and that burger I got earlier – on Edgey’s tab.”
Miles face-palmed and, in despair, took a sip of his iced tea anyway. That caused him to make an even more disgusted face.
“Larry,” Phoenix said seriously, staring straight at the psyche-lock over Larry’s left shoulder, “I know you’re broke, okay? Just admit it!”
Larry’s eyes teared up, and the first psyche-lock shattered. “H-How do you always know, Nick?” he asked in awed disbelief.
Next to Phoenix, Miles starting chuckling under his breath. Because, sure, the answer was technically ‘because I have a magic rock that can sense lies’, but honestly Phoenix didn’t need that at all to guess that Larry was lying non-stop.
“Wait… Larry, if you’re broke, how are you going to pay all these fines?” Phoenix suddenly realized.
“Well,” Larry grinned sheepishly, “I figured you could maybe pull some of that lawyer smooth-talk of yours and get me out of those?” There went psyche-lock number two.
Phoenix groaned. “What’s the conversion rate these days between fines and additional community service?” he asked Miles.
“Hmm,” Miles said, “well, if he does the repairs on the courthouse himself, the criminal-investigations unit might be inclined to cancel that fine out.”
“I’m not painting over my masterpiece!” Larry insisted, and then blinked. “Hey, do you think maybe they’ll let me do painting for all my community service?” He scratched his beard in dangerous contemplation. “Because Vitamin Square’s looking pretty run-down, and there’s this old bird-watcher there, and he and I got to talking the other day about how nice it would be to take out all that broccoli and maybe put in some hot babes, instead.”
“Larry,” Phoenix said in exasperation, “please do not deface any more public property in your efforts to atone for the first public property you defaced. As your attorney, there is only so much I can do for you. I’m not a miracle worker!”
“Bummer…” Larry sighed wistfully.
“And, even more important, if you’re so broke you can’t pay for drinks…” Phoenix groaned in realization. “Don’t tell me: I’m taking your case pro bono again?”
“You’re the best, Nick!” Larry agreed brightly. And there went the last psyche-lock. Free again!
Phoenix’s shoulders slumped. Miles was shaking with mirth now at Phoenix’s plight. Phoenix glared at Miles, but Miles just gave him a smug look back. Ugh, Miles could be so infuriating at times, and it was all his fault Phoenix was stuck breaking all these psyche-locks too!
Slowly, an idea dawned on Phoenix, and his glare turned into a sneaky smile.
One of Miles’ eyebrows rose suspiciously.
The fingers of one of Phoenix’s hands inched along the bench teasingly until his fist settled over Miles’ thigh.
Miles’ eyebrow rose further.
And then Phoenix suddenly shoved the magatama hidden in his palm into Miles’ pocket.
Miles’ eyes widened, and he clamped his hand over Phoenix’s.
They both grimaced at each other, teeth bared, as Phoenix tried to force the magatama into Miles’ pocket, and Miles tried to push it back out into Phoenix’s hand.
“Yeesh, you two,” Larry complained, looking thoroughly unimpressed, “can’t you go ten minutes without fooling around under the table? Seriously, save it for when you’re at home. This is a public place!”
At that, Miles’ face turned beet red, and he let out a mortified sound and covered his face with both hands. Victorious, Phoenix succeeded in pawning the magatama off on Miles with a look of immense satisfaction.
“Don’t get me wrong, though,” Larry said. “I get it. Me and Kayley over there”—he gestured to the bartender who’d provided their drinks—“it’s true love with us, too! Can’t keep our hands off each other!” Larry gave them a proud thumbs-up. “This time, I think she’s the one!”
Miles’ back suddenly went ramrod straight, and he let out a little “gack!” of distress.
Phoenix couldn’t see the psyche-locks, but he really didn’t need to ask to know that they were there.
Miles shot Phoenix a haughty, infuriated look, and then turned back to Larry with a resigned sigh. “I see,” he began slowly, “so this woman who is your…‘true love’?”
“She’s my soulmate, man!” Larry agreed. “We’re going to be together forever!”
“Ah, of course.” Miles got that little shark grin of his. “And if, say, I were to ask her if she knew your name?”
Larry’s hand flew over his heart in a stricken gesture. “You’re so mean, Edgey!” he said, teary-eyed.
“So then, she does not, in fact, know who you are,” Miles concluded. “In fact, I believe that I would be well-founded in assuming that you only met her for the first time earlier this evening, a point easily deduced by the fact that she has not yet had the bouncer throw you out on the street.”
Larry whimpered. “So. Cruel!” He turned to Phoenix. “How can you date a man that cruel, Nick?”
“Somehow, I manage,” Phoenix said wryly.
“In point of fact,” Miles concluded every bit as cruelly as Larry said, “if I were you, I would leave her alone henceforth, as I’m sure her threats to procure a restraining order are genuine, and you do not need any additional legal trouble at the moment.”
Larry wilted and sunk into his beer. “Fine, fine, you got me. Apparently, she has a boyfriend! I mean, honestly: who could love her better than me?”
Miles let out a relieved sigh, which signaled to Phoenix that that was the last of Larry’s psyche-locks broken. “Such a complete mystery,” Miles said, deadpan.
“Not even we can solve it,” Phoenix agreed, and took another drink.
At that point, a high-pitched war cry sounded throughout the bar, and Larry’s eyes widened in horror when he found himself face-to-lash with Franziska von Karma’s whip.
“You useless, foolish fool of foolishly foolish fool!” Franziska spat out, and proceeded to whip Larry within an inch of his life. “I shall whip you until I have flayed away the last of your skin, and that will teach you what happens to a foolish fool who is foolish enough to foolishly fool with a Von Karma!”
Phoenix and Miles sipped at their drinks and watched Franziska chase Larry in a furious rage around the bar, whipping him as she went.
“Huh,” Phoenix said, “I didn’t know Franziska was back in town.”
“Oh yes,” Miles agreed, “her flight arrived late last night. We planned to meet for bruncheon tomorrow.”
Phoenix wasn’t quite sure what a ‘bruncheon’ entailed, or how it was different from a plain old brunch, other than that regular brunches didn’t sound snooty enough for Miles and Franziska. “I see she’s kept up her arm strength,” he said mildly.
“Indeed.” Miles unceremoniously dropped the magatama back into Phoenix’s pocket. “Incidentally, there were no lies in her last threat.”
“No,” Phoenix agreed, “I wouldn’t think so.”
“Hmm,” Miles said contentedly.
“It was your fault I forgot to leave the magatama at home, you know,” Phoenix said.
“Well,” Miles countered, “it was your fault for putting it off until the last minute.”
“I left two hours for that,” Phoenix insisted.
“As I said,” Miles agreed with a blush.
In the meantime, Franziska had cornered Larry between the back wall and the bar and was screaming a truly impressive list of grammatical variants of the word ‘fool’. Phoenix hadn’t even realized that ‘fool’ could be used as a preposition before…
“Save me, Kayley, my love!” Larry cried out.
Kayley, behind the bar, looked exceptionally disinclined to do so.
“I suppose I should be grateful,” Miles said at last. “You’ve been proven correct, after all, about going out this evening. This is not, in fact, the worst time I’ve ever had.”
The hint of a clang began to sound—
“Understatement is not the same thing as deception!” Miles growled, and somehow glared the magatama into submission, for no psyche-locks dared to appear. “And don’t you try your usual tricks on me, Phoenix Wright.”
Phoenix beamed at him and placed his hand on Miles’ thigh. Miles’ hand came to rest on his, and Miles snorted when he felt the smooth glowing energy of the magatama pulsing between their palms.
A final crash and a crack sounded from the bar, and Franziska von Karma stalked calmly back out the door of the bar with her whip, head held high. The other patrons gave her a wide berth.
With a gurgle, Larry stumbled back over to their table. “Man, oh man,” Larry said, “this is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Seriously, I’m so glad we did this! You guys are the best friends a guy could have!” He picked up what remained of his drink and saluted them, before downing the rest of it in one gulp.
Phoenix and Miles both tensed in unison, hands still locked around the magatama…
…And nothing happened.
“Seriously?” Phoenix finally blurted out in disbelief.
“You are confessing to a crime tomorrow morning, and you’ve just been whipped to near unconsciousness,” Miles agreed, stunned.
Larry smiled brightly at them both. “Good times!” he agreed, incongruously and apparently entirely truthfully. “Just like when we were kids! Here’s to old friends!” He raised his empty glass in the air.
Miles and Phoenix, with an incredulous shrug, raised their empty glasses as well, and they clanged together, not with the sound of impending psyche-locks but with good cheer.
“Now,” Larry concluded, “Edgey, how about you buy us all another round? If I have to go in for community service starting tomorrow, I want to celebrate tonight. And I heard one of the late-shift waitresses is super hot…”
Ah well. There was no accounting for Larry.