She had brought him into a room privately with the excuse that she wanted to go over some school problems with him and gain some knowledge and help. At first, he questioned why she wasn't asking her parents or her sister, but she quickly dismissed it with the answer that not only was he more knowledgeable on these things (Oh, the flattery!) but she couldn't possibly let her family know that she needed help with something so simple as math! So he took her into his office and sat her down on his desk while he sat on his chair and went over some of her papers with her. After only a few minutes, she initiated a bit of flirty banter and would sometimes playfully kick him (So softly and subtly that it would take him a while to even realize she had done it) and, at one point, even dared to – Gasp! – lay her hand on his shoulder. But he tried to ignore it as he continued to help her. She noticed that she was going nowhere fast and got off his desk, sliding off of it so skillfully that her skirt was hoisted on the edge of the desk for just a split second – but she was sure he had noticed.

He looked at her to try and figure out what she was doing, but in almost no time at all she pushed her lips against his and attempted to crawl onto his chair with him, her legs straddling across his. She was clumsy and unskilled. He hadn't been kissed many times in his life, but he was quite positive that she had never been kissed on the lips in such a way in her entire life. Her hands slid across his chest, to his shoulders, and onto his wrists so quickly that it felt like she was dusting him off or straightening his shirt. She was constantly readjusting herself on his lap, and each time it got a little bit more uncomfortable and her bones jabbed into his thighs a little harder.

And yet, through all this, her lips seemed to work in a way that was far superior to the rest of her silly and awkward movements. Her lips moved smoothly, not too rough and not too soft. It felt as though she had kissed several mouths previous to his and gotten a good rhythm down in her experimenting. It almost excused how sore his lap felt or how itchy her hands made him. Her lips were comfortable and almost familiar.

But he was a lawyer! An adult lawyer! And she was just a kid!

He pushed her back and took a sharp breath. She looked as though she had just been scolded as she pulled her hands back and opened her mouth to breathe better. He had his same serious look as before. It was almost as though nothing had happened. His face remained exactly the same, save for a faint blush in his cheeks. He held her arms and stared at her, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth," she began, regaining a formal familiarity that was secure and acceptable. "I just started my period a few—"

"Shh," he urged, and then followed it up with several more ("Shh. Shh-shh-shh-shhhhh") before ending it with, "No." She pressed her finger against her top lip in a way that she hoped look innocent and sad. "No." Her brow drew together in a way that hinted what she was about to say was going to be awkward for both of them. He wished he could've stopped her, but he didn't.

"I hope I didn't bleed on you." He couldn't think of anything to say. Here she was, sitting on his lap in a way that hurt his thighs, but he almost didn't want her to get up in fear of finding dead blood staining his nice, burgundy pants. Sure, burgundy was a color that was close in shade to blood, but he would never have the nerve to put these pants on again if they were stained with something like that.

"Miss Skye," he said, and shook her slightly when he did so, "maybe you should take your work somewhere else."

"Like where?"

"Like to your family." He was quite confident that she wouldn't pull this same trick on somebody from her family.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her off of him, not even daring to look down at his legs in fear of seeing some kind of stain.

"Well," she began, picking up her papers and stacking them nearly together, "if you insist."

"I do." She looked at him and bit both of her lips together. "But tell me…" She looked ready and expectant. "Do I have any," he shuddered, "… blood… on my pants?" She happily inspected his lower half before smiling up at him and shaking her head.

"Nope! Not that I can see." He nodded, walking to his office door and opening it.

"Good. Have a nice day, Miss Skye." She walked up to him and reached out to caress his neck or cheek or something, but it was unclear where and it ended unsuccessfully by Miles quickly lifting his hand and blocking it. He didn't grab her wrist or push her hand away; he simply shielded her movement, which offended her greatly. She sighed angrily.

"Yeah, well… Whatever," she grumbled, nearly stomping out of the office. He closed the door and gained enough courage to look at his pants himself. Thankfully, she hadn't lied – his pants were fabulously unblemished.