Phoenix watched with a fleeting moment of guilt as he saw Edgeworth leaving, his magenta coat still draped over the witness's stand. He had won the trial and was collecting documents to sign and hand around, but had somehow managed to forget his iconic garment in the process.

Instead of grabbing the jacket and returning it to Edgeworth- who was now almost at his car- he resolved to place it carefully in his briefcase. The defense attorney would find that returning it right to the Prosecutor's Offices by himself would be much more preferable. Not that he would admit it, but Phoenix was silently hoping that this would give him permission to talk to Edgeworth as friends, not just grumpy lawyers examining evidence.

He exited the courtroom, waving half-heartedly to the Judge, and stepped up to the curb. Phoenix held up an arm and a taxi sped over to him, stopping abruptly and almost knocking over a trash bin in the process. He climbed inside, swiping his debit card on the reader, and gave the driver the proper address.

As the taxi pulled up to the Prosecutor's Offices, Phoenix briefly panicked, thinking about what he was to say to Edgeworth. Yes, I saw that you left this on the stand but I didn't say anything and took it for the sheer reason that I could get to talk to you. It probably wouldn't go down too well with the man, but in desperate measures, would most likely work.

He entered through the revolving doors, flashing a charming smile to the secretary at the desk and lowering his head to speak through the glass.

"Hello, I'm looking for the office of Miles Edgeworth?" he asked, glancing around at the ornate decorations behind the desk- everything was expensive in this part of town!

The woman (Charlotte, as he noticed by the gold-plated nametag) handed him a small slip of paper with 5B-9 written on it in cheap blue pen. She quickly explained that Phoenix would need to take the "B" elevator to the 5th floor, and enter the 9th office. How many prosecutors existed that such a large building would be necessary?

Phoenix made his way over to the large glossy elevator with a letter "B" imprinted on it, and pressed the pearl button to go up. When he got inside, he sighed to himself out of sympathy for Edgeworth- there were only 5 floors and the building was very tall. Would he really have to take the stairs every day?

When the shaky elevator reached the top and slid open the doors with a ding, Phoenix stepped out and headed in the direction of the right office. However, the closer he approached, the louder a dull sound became in his ears. Was that… singing? What crazy sleep-deprived prosecutor had stayed up long enough that singing in their workspace would actually become a feasible idea? As he got to the 9th office, he had to smack himself in the mouth to stop his laughing. That crazy, sleep deprived prosecutor. From behind the door came the voice of Miles Edgeworth, Demon Prosecutor, singing some song an insane fan had made for Diego Armando.

He rested a hand on the wall, grinning madly- he was going to get him so good! Subconsciously, Phoenix also noticed that despite the craziness of the situation, Edgeworth sung quite well- hitting all of the right notes with a lovely undertone that he rarely heard.

Deciding that he had enough of this waiting, Phoenix gently opened the door and shut it behind himself. He had no reason to leave it locked- the secretary knew enough from Phoenix's lapel that he was qualified to be in such a building, and no one unwelcome would be let inside. The defense attorney had to stifle a sharp laugh as he saw Edgeworth hunched over his desk, presumably looking at lyrics, with a distasteful pair of headphones wrapped over his head.

He didn't seem to notice the opening and closing of the door through the loud music- Phoenix could even slightly hear it coming from the headphones. Deciding his next method of action, he set down the cheap briefcase on a mahogany coffee table, and loomed over Edgeworth, clearly immersed in his singing.

Phoenix brought both hands up and rested them on Edgeworth's shoulders- which caused the other man to flinch and scream with such a shrill tone that the neighboring lawyers were locking their doors. (He would realize, later, that it was the note he never managed to reach.) Edgeworth turned beet red, yanking off his headphones and jamming the power button on his computer, pointing sharply at the door.

"Get. Out." He said, voice trembling with fright, anger, and a whole lot of embarrassment.

Instead, Wright casually took a seat on his sofa, pulling the briefcase into his lap.

"You know, Edgeworth, I never expected you to be an alto. I always thought that you'd be a soprano, considering your ruffle thing and all." Said Phoenix smoothly, a humored smile spreading across his face.

Covering his tomato-colored face with one hand, the prosecutor sunk down into the armchair in defeat.

"H-how much did you hear? I swear, no one will hear of this! I was just… investigating the frequencies that a person could reach- for an investigation! Of my case!" he replied with a frown, clearly upset that Wright had walked in on him. He was just so adorable when he was embarrassed!

"Well, the fragrance of dark coffee, bitter things, love, and jazz music don't exactly scream 'high frequencies'. What I think, personally, was that you were singing." Wright said with a snarky laugh, causing the other man to sink deeper into the couch, turning redder than his suit… speaking of which…

"Well, I didn't just stop in to comment on your lovely singing, but I've got your jacket as well." He added as an afterthought, popping open the brown briefcase and pulling out the neatly folded coat.

Edgeworth accepted it with a scoff, opening it up and slipping it on over his vest and shirt.

"Fine then, Wright, you got me. I was singing. A song that I happened to really like. Now will you please get off my case about it? I know that I'm pretty terrible at it, but I just felt like it, alright?" he confessed, wrapping an arm around his side and gazing intently at the blank wall.

Phoenix furrowed his brow, deciding at a split moment to do what he'd wanted to do since he met the man. Maybe it was because of his vulnerability, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Grabbing his chin, he tilted up Miles' face with only a little resistance.

"Your singing was absolutely lovely, Miles. There's nothing to be ashamed of, really! I'm sorry if I came off as rude, but the opportunity was there, so I took it! Though there's one more thing I'm wondering, if you wouldn't mind enlightening me?" Phoenix said softly, looking into his eyes to see a mixture of confusion, lost pride, and was that excitement?

Swallowing hard, Miles opened his mouth to speak. "What is your question, Phoenix?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Really though, I can't help but wonder if you taste like bitter, dark coffee. Maybe it would be tea?"

Phoenix met his eyes for a split moment and then brought his lips down against those of Miles.