"Ah… heh… Edgeworth?" Phoenix stood behind the prosecutor, who was seated at the dining room table, perusing the Wall Street Journal and sipping tea – his usual morning routine.
"What is it, Wright?" He sounded distracted, and the defense attorney hoped that Edgeworth would stay that way for the duration of the conversation to come. It was the only way he figured he had a chance of coming out of it with his limbs and pride intact.
"You know how you asked me to do the laundry last night?" Phoenix sounded a lot more timid than he meant to, and spent several seconds mentally beating himself up about it. Where had his confident courtroom persona gone? –Although, being in court with Edgeworth was somewhat different than being home with him. Somehow the demon prosecutor was even more intimidating in his natural habitat.
"Mmhmm?" The eyes never left the paper in front of him, not even to set down the tea and pick up a piece of toast to take a bite; something done without dropping a single crumb onto Edgeworth's waistcoat. Phoenix always wondered how he was able to do that, since his own experience with food was that it seemed to be magnetically attracted to his chest. Especially if he was wearing his suit and tie.
"I, err, just wanted to let you know that you might want to buy a new neck ruffle, since the one you always wear is kind of pink. You can go back to eating now." The words came in a rush, and Phoenix turned to make his escape before Edgeworth was any wiser of what had actually gone on. Unfortunately for the poor attorney, however, his lover was a little quicker on the uptake than he gave him credit for.
"That's nice…. Wait. Excuse me?" Edgeworth lowered the paper, and fixed his steely glare on Phoenix's retreating back. The spiky haired man, feeling the glare practically piercing him, froze in his footsteps, giving the prosecutor time enough to stand and cross his arms over his chest. "Care to come back and explain that statement, Wright?"
Turning around and bringing a hand up to rub at his neck sheepishly, Phoenix returned to the dining room, not even attempting to hide the pink bit of lace-edged linen dangling from his left hand. It would be futile to, since it was the subject of the impending argument, and Phoenix didn't want to prolong the agony. Edgeworth's eyes flew to what used to be his favourite cravat, narrowing them when he saw what had become of it.
"What happened?" The words made Phoenix cringe, just with the way they cut through the air with their sharpness. Lifting his hand, the defense attorney offered the ruined cravat to Edgeworth to examine, trying to find words to explain.
"Well, I wasn't really paying attention when I sorted the colours from the whites, and that brand new red t-shirt that I wore the other day kind of got mixed in with the rest of the whites." He gave Edgeworth an apologetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, all of my white boxers are now pink."
"Somehow that doesn't help. That was my lucky cravat, Wright." Edgeworth sounded anything but forgiving at that moment, and Phoenix looked as though he was torn between being crestfallen at having destroyed something so apparently important to his lover, and amused at the fact that Edgeworth had a lucky cravat in the first place.
"Lucky… cravat?" Venturing to ask the question, and hoping that it would distract him from being angry long enough that he could disarm Edgeworth, Phoenix attempted a smile.
At first, it didn't look as though it would distract him from anything. Edgeworth still had that dangerous combination of annoyed edging on anger, before it petered out quite suddenly. Phoenix blinked, unsure what to make of it.
"That was the cravat I was wearing when I won my first case." The silver haired man sat down, toying with the handle of his teacup still half full with rapidly cooling earl gray. "It was also the cravat I wore each time I lost to you."
"Oh, I had no idea…." Phoenix shook his head, feeling terrible that he had been so careless. However, a glaring contradiction begged another question. "Hold it, if you were wearing it when you lost to me, then how is it your lucky cravat? Most people would call that unlucky."
Edgeworth looked up, staring steadily at the confused attorney. "Because you helped to show me that the truth is more than winning with those losses." Sighing, he picked up the teacup and took a sip, making a face at the lukewarm tea before setting it down and pushing it away. "However, perhaps it is time to put such childish things behind me. That cravat has served its purpose, I suppose I could use a new one."
Phoenix shook his head, blushing faintly from the sentiment that Edgeworth held over their old cases together. "It's not childish, and I'm sorry for ruining it."
"Don't worry about it, Wright. Things can be replaced." He folded up the pink cravat and placed it in his pocket. "I never said that I was going to get rid of it, just that I need to get a new one. I have no intention on giving this up."
Heart unclenching, and feeling rather relieved that he was going to be let off the hook, Phoenix pulled out a chair and grabbed the rest of Edgeworth's toast, taking a bit and covering his chest in crumbs. "Well, I'm still sorry."
"Don't worry about it." The prosecutor waved his hand, folding up the newspaper and depositing it on the counter as he tidied up after himself. Phoenix watched him passively, until a horrifying thought struck him.
"You're going to make me go shopping with you for a new one, aren't you?"
Without turning, Edgeworth smirked. "I figure it's the least you owe me. Perhaps it will teach you to be more careful with other people's laundry."