Night 56: F11-20 Hallway
Well, that was ominous. No announcement at all? Lana sat on the edge of her bed in the darkness for a few minutes, waiting to see if Aguilar was merely drawing out the opening of night, but after the locks had clicked open, there was only silence. Lana switched on her flashlight, and picked up the things she'd laid out during dinner. Her coat, with a scalpel and her notebook in the pockets; her flashlight, and the pile of things she needed to give to Ema. Her own file she'd put back in the box already; the amount to which it was disturbingly plausible packed back into a space she wasn't ready to consider.
Not that she believed the lies, no, but it could be her. Her own flaws, her own inability to do what needed to be done at the critical moment; that was far too true. It hadn't even required blackmail; only her own weakness.
Self-fulfilling prophesy, Lana. That had Mia's voice, if not her own, and she let herself smile into the darkness. Too much dwelling, not enough doing. What she'd done was wrong, and no rationalization could solve it, but she couldn't let it stop her from moving on. People could change, and she was going to prove it. If Fey appeared on the doorstep of the Institute again tomorrow, this time she'd be prepared. Not with evidence; she still didn't have any, but with enough certainty to face her with a genuine smile. Mia hadn't changed, even if she was going by Angela -- still unswervingly convinced of her own righteousness, and still, damnit, still right.
Ah, yes. That. She'd have to make sure Ema knew Mr. Wright was here -- and that Prosecutor Edgeworth had apparently re-arrived as well. It wouldn't quite replace the people they'd lost, but it should cheer her up.
[to here]
Not that she believed the lies, no, but it could be her. Her own flaws, her own inability to do what needed to be done at the critical moment; that was far too true. It hadn't even required blackmail; only her own weakness.
Self-fulfilling prophesy, Lana. That had Mia's voice, if not her own, and she let herself smile into the darkness. Too much dwelling, not enough doing. What she'd done was wrong, and no rationalization could solve it, but she couldn't let it stop her from moving on. People could change, and she was going to prove it. If Fey appeared on the doorstep of the Institute again tomorrow, this time she'd be prepared. Not with evidence; she still didn't have any, but with enough certainty to face her with a genuine smile. Mia hadn't changed, even if she was going by Angela -- still unswervingly convinced of her own righteousness, and still, damnit, still right.
Ah, yes. That. She'd have to make sure Ema knew Mr. Wright was here -- and that Prosecutor Edgeworth had apparently re-arrived as well. It wouldn't quite replace the people they'd lost, but it should cheer her up.
[to here]