"Hey, Marshall! You should take a look at this!"
The cowboyish officer glanced over his shoulder at one of his subordinates who peered out from the red sports car in the Prosecutor's Parking Garage. There was a coy expression on the officer's face, earning a scoff from Officer Marshall and a tip of his hat.
"Either way, bambina. It's a no go. You can have a peekaroo but the car is off limits. If you want to know more, head on up to the 12th floor and talk to the high prosecutor."
Phoenix and Ema shared curious expressions, but stood their distance as Marshall approached the sports car once more. They nonchalantly looked on to whatever would transpire next.
As Marshall stopped next to the officer, the coy man produced a small piece of fabric in his hands and held it up in the air triumphantly, smirking all the while. A beat later, the officer, Phoenix, and Ema were beet red. Phoenix felt it necessarily to shield Ema's eyes from the indecency as he ushered her towards the stairwell to the lobby. Marshall hastily cupped the officer upside the head, grabbing the black, lacy thong from his raised grasp and tossing it back inside the back seat.
"Are you kidding me!? Not related to the case! None of our business what the King does in his spare time."
---
Phoenix and Ema peeked around the corner of the opened door before stepping into the tidy office. Whoever owned said office was out at the moment, but the open curtains and gentle breeze wafting in signalled their short return. As Ema commented on the discarded trophy on the velvety couch, the door opened again to Edgeworth's rare small smile as he spoke with Amelia, who took a generous sip of her Starbucks tea before they both noticed the newcomers.
Edgeworth's famous scowl returned despite Ema's feverish praising. Phoenix exchanged a happy greeting with an exhausted looking Amelia as Miles took a seat at his desk. He folded his hands over the paperwork that litered the desk and listened intently as Ema chattered on.
"You don't look so good, Aims." Phoenix scratched his chin thoughtfully as the former moved to sit on the window sill. She glanced longingly at the lovely sunshine outside, despite the obvious February cold.
"I need a vacation, Nick. All the bigwigs are on this investigation." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and grumbled under her breath despite her usual chipper attitude. "I'm the lowest ranking offical on the job and yet the investigation is still being run by that cowboy."
The mention of Officer Marshall reminded Phoenix of the impending investigation.
"Yeah, he's not very cooperative with us investigating."
Edgeworth, who had been scribbling something down on his paperwork, scoffed quietly, his eyes never leaving the page. "I wouldn't expect him to make it easy for you."
Ema tore herself away from her gawking at Miles' office finally to contribute to the conversation.
"Yeah, he won't let us anywhere near that nasty red sports car. Told us to come up here to find its owner---"
Amelia had started giggling into her fist as Edgeworth awkwardly avoided eye contact. He sheepishly ran a hand through his hair, shifting his eye contact nervously between the defense team.
"Ah, you mean...my car."
There was an accompaning silence following his claim, until Ema spoke up again.
"A-ah. You should really clear out your uh...unmentionables Mr. Edgeworth. One of the officers found something in the back seat."
Phoenix blanched, screaming internally. Edgeworth seemed clueless at first, looking up from his paperwork puzzled.
"Unmentionables?"
"Yeah, some panties---"
Phoenix quickly reached to cover her mouth and grinned awkwardly at his two friends. He did so, until he realized the two had suddenly changed their demeanor.
Amelia was completely scarlet, quickly standing. She muttered an excuse to leave under her breath---something about checking in on the investigation. The redhead beelined for the door, closing it rapidly behind her. Miles looked mortified, not unlike getting caught offguard in court. He caught his chin in his hand, nervously covering his mouth with one hand.
"The crime scene was the truck...not the bloody car..."
