Characters: Jack Kelly </a></b></a>cowboy_newsie and Miles Edgeworth </a></b></a>mentis_reae
Summary: Let's baww. No homo.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Early morning, post-clothing return
They stood now three days, countless blows, countless offenses, a cold repudiation and a hesitant apology from their former friendship. Why, despite all that, did the rift between them seem so inconsequential?
Edgeworth usually tried to make sure he was standing before most of his visitors came by so that he didn't have to labor his way humiliatingly to standing. He'd not done so for Jack after the first few times. What was the point? Kelly's judgment, after all, was hardly going to be swayed by Edgeworth's inability to surmount his injury. Besides which, he'd always trusted that Kelly wouldn't judge him harshly for the same. He'd always trusted...Well, he'd always trusted Jack.
He found, as Jack stood in the doorway and greeted him awkwardly, that once again, from force of habit, he hadn't stood. Instead, he leveraged himself up, brow furrowed, uncertain what to say, but secure in the knowledge that it was all right to show his weakness.
So much had passed between them. So many words had been exchanged. But the man before him was no one crueler, no one more sinister, no one more distant than his best friend. So he cleared his throat, and nodded to his chair, and invited, "Ah, would you like to sit?"