[GSRP 2.5] [SCENE] Franziska and Miles in "Christmas in June"
((Backdated to June 20.))
Franziska: *It's early in the evening when Franziska arrives at the Prosecutor's Office, when most of the day's affairs are finished -- or should be done with, at least. She shows up at Edgeworth's door unannounced but doesn't open it; instead she pauses and listens to see if he's alone*
Miles: *The room echoes with silence, he's clearly not meeting with anyone at the moment*
Franziska: *once his solitude is confirmed, she opens the door wide without knocking. She seems perturbed for whatever reason* Expecting to see me, Miles?
Miles: *looks up from the briefcase he's busily piling with papers, not seeming all that surprised* I was, actually. Though I had assumed you would be polite about it.
Franziska: *stalks in and eyes the papers* And what are you doing?
Miles: *raises an eyebrow at her confrontational attitude* Preparing to leave.
Franziska: *seemingly out of nowhere, lashes out her whip and hits him across the arms* Don't raise your eyebrow at me!
Miles: *he winces, but makes no sound and continues to move papers from his desk to his briefcase* What's the meaning of this? *He looks down at the briefcase as if he is not concerned by her; his voice doesn't raise, his composure remains perfect*
Franziska: *tugs on her whip and glares* I should have come here to check on you sooner. Look at what being Chief Prosecutor has done to you!
Miles: *spares a glance for her and then sweeps it around the office. Mildly,* What, exactly, do you speak of?
Franziska: Those wrinkles on your trousers...the faint ink stain on your hand...the dullness in your eyes. Your appearance tells it better than your pitiful trial records. *sternly* When was the last time you stood in a court room?
Miles: *turns his wrist to inspect his hand - there is indeed an ink stain there. He seems more irritable than chastised, though* Two weeks ago. There's no case that needs my hand in it at the moment.
Franziska: *crosses her arms* And before that?
Miles: Before that? *taps his fingers on the desktop* May I ask to what end you're asking me these questions?
Franziska: Hmph...do I need to spell it out for you? *cracks her whip against the lid of Miles's briefcase -- it falls shut messily a second later* Your time is being spent more and more behind your office desk instead of the prosecutor's bench!
Miles: *frowns* ...I understood the limitations of the office of Chief Prosecutor before taking it. It's true that I've been doing fewer cases than I would like to... *there's a pause, he shakes his head* ...but I have other, more time-consuming responsibilities at the moment.
Franziska: *showing no lenience* Do you hear yourself right now? *grips her whip* You sound as though you've aged fifteen years... *scowls* ...and even if you have, that's hardly an excuse. By all means, you should be prosecuting at the age of seventy, even if you have to bring your own death bed to court!
Miles: *slams his palm down on the table, finally showing signs of ire* What makes you think I won't!? I've thrown my lot in with this position for the moment because there are things that need my doing.
Franziska: *tsks and smirks* You're awfully defensive. Does that mean you agree you haven't been performing as well as you can?
Miles: Tch. *lifts his arm and tugs at his sleeve* My performance in and out of court has been impeccable. I agree that I have not been able to make it into court as often as would be my preference.
Franziska: *snaps, raising her whip in a threatening stance* Then it can hardly be called "impeccable".
Miles: My preferences have nothing to do with my performance. *gives her a glare and reopens his briefcase* A fact you've learned as well as I, over these years.
Franziska: *looks at him for a silent moment -- her whip lowers* I thought becoming Chief Prosecutor would inflate your head...but, no. It's soured you. *places her hand on her hip* What happened to the irritatingly cool-headed Miles Edgeworth who would rather curtly dismiss me than start such an argument?
Miles: *sighs and finishes loading his briefcase. Flatly* Bureaucracy happened. I'm no more sour on that than I ever was, but now I have to move in its circles. I'm merely responding to you because you're voicing concerns I have had myself.
Franziska: *flatly* I see. *tilts her head and narrows her eyes* You're becoming "burnt out".
Miles: I wouldn't say that. *disdainfully* That phrase is an excuse for the weak to use. I'm becoming increasingly disillusioned with the hoops I have to jump through.
Franziska: *tsks again* Semantics. *the corner of her mouth curls up* Fortunately for you, I can be as thoughtful as I am intelligent. I've brought for you something that will help ease your nerves before you end up stumbling into neurosis.
Miles: If I were going to stumble into neurosis I would have done it long before now.
Franziska: *glares and tugs on her whip* When someone offers you a present you say "thank you"! *gives his arm another lash*
Miles: *doesn't react at all this time, beyond smoothing the sleeve of his suit. Then he meets her eyes* Pray tell, what might this gift be?
Franziska: *replaces her hand to her hip and smirks much like she did before* Be grateful. Under normal circumstances, I would have to bring you to the gift...but I was able to bring the gift to you.
Franziska: *walks back over to the office door and opens it. She turns around to face him:* Miles, have you ever heard of "cerebral acupuncture"?
Iris: *walks in, shyly clutching the handles of a tote bag in front of her* Good evening, Mr. Edgeworth... How are you? *gives her trademark pleasant smile*
Miles: *with a look of consternation* Good evening, Iris, I- wait just a moment, cerebral acupuncture?
Franziska: You can thank me later. *turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her to give Iris (who begins to go "I'm actually not very experienced with this form of therapy at all, but...") and the Chief Prosecutor their privacy*
Franziska: *It's early in the evening when Franziska arrives at the Prosecutor's Office, when most of the day's affairs are finished -- or should be done with, at least. She shows up at Edgeworth's door unannounced but doesn't open it; instead she pauses and listens to see if he's alone*
Miles: *The room echoes with silence, he's clearly not meeting with anyone at the moment*
Franziska: *once his solitude is confirmed, she opens the door wide without knocking. She seems perturbed for whatever reason* Expecting to see me, Miles?
Miles: *looks up from the briefcase he's busily piling with papers, not seeming all that surprised* I was, actually. Though I had assumed you would be polite about it.
Franziska: *stalks in and eyes the papers* And what are you doing?
Miles: *raises an eyebrow at her confrontational attitude* Preparing to leave.
Franziska: *seemingly out of nowhere, lashes out her whip and hits him across the arms* Don't raise your eyebrow at me!
Miles: *he winces, but makes no sound and continues to move papers from his desk to his briefcase* What's the meaning of this? *He looks down at the briefcase as if he is not concerned by her; his voice doesn't raise, his composure remains perfect*
Franziska: *tugs on her whip and glares* I should have come here to check on you sooner. Look at what being Chief Prosecutor has done to you!
Miles: *spares a glance for her and then sweeps it around the office. Mildly,* What, exactly, do you speak of?
Franziska: Those wrinkles on your trousers...the faint ink stain on your hand...the dullness in your eyes. Your appearance tells it better than your pitiful trial records. *sternly* When was the last time you stood in a court room?
Miles: *turns his wrist to inspect his hand - there is indeed an ink stain there. He seems more irritable than chastised, though* Two weeks ago. There's no case that needs my hand in it at the moment.
Franziska: *crosses her arms* And before that?
Miles: Before that? *taps his fingers on the desktop* May I ask to what end you're asking me these questions?
Franziska: Hmph...do I need to spell it out for you? *cracks her whip against the lid of Miles's briefcase -- it falls shut messily a second later* Your time is being spent more and more behind your office desk instead of the prosecutor's bench!
Miles: *frowns* ...I understood the limitations of the office of Chief Prosecutor before taking it. It's true that I've been doing fewer cases than I would like to... *there's a pause, he shakes his head* ...but I have other, more time-consuming responsibilities at the moment.
Franziska: *showing no lenience* Do you hear yourself right now? *grips her whip* You sound as though you've aged fifteen years... *scowls* ...and even if you have, that's hardly an excuse. By all means, you should be prosecuting at the age of seventy, even if you have to bring your own death bed to court!
Miles: *slams his palm down on the table, finally showing signs of ire* What makes you think I won't!? I've thrown my lot in with this position for the moment because there are things that need my doing.
Franziska: *tsks and smirks* You're awfully defensive. Does that mean you agree you haven't been performing as well as you can?
Miles: Tch. *lifts his arm and tugs at his sleeve* My performance in and out of court has been impeccable. I agree that I have not been able to make it into court as often as would be my preference.
Franziska: *snaps, raising her whip in a threatening stance* Then it can hardly be called "impeccable".
Miles: My preferences have nothing to do with my performance. *gives her a glare and reopens his briefcase* A fact you've learned as well as I, over these years.
Franziska: *looks at him for a silent moment -- her whip lowers* I thought becoming Chief Prosecutor would inflate your head...but, no. It's soured you. *places her hand on her hip* What happened to the irritatingly cool-headed Miles Edgeworth who would rather curtly dismiss me than start such an argument?
Miles: *sighs and finishes loading his briefcase. Flatly* Bureaucracy happened. I'm no more sour on that than I ever was, but now I have to move in its circles. I'm merely responding to you because you're voicing concerns I have had myself.
Franziska: *flatly* I see. *tilts her head and narrows her eyes* You're becoming "burnt out".
Miles: I wouldn't say that. *disdainfully* That phrase is an excuse for the weak to use. I'm becoming increasingly disillusioned with the hoops I have to jump through.
Franziska: *tsks again* Semantics. *the corner of her mouth curls up* Fortunately for you, I can be as thoughtful as I am intelligent. I've brought for you something that will help ease your nerves before you end up stumbling into neurosis.
Miles: If I were going to stumble into neurosis I would have done it long before now.
Franziska: *glares and tugs on her whip* When someone offers you a present you say "thank you"! *gives his arm another lash*
Miles: *doesn't react at all this time, beyond smoothing the sleeve of his suit. Then he meets her eyes* Pray tell, what might this gift be?
Franziska: *replaces her hand to her hip and smirks much like she did before* Be grateful. Under normal circumstances, I would have to bring you to the gift...but I was able to bring the gift to you.
Franziska: *walks back over to the office door and opens it. She turns around to face him:* Miles, have you ever heard of "cerebral acupuncture"?
Iris: *walks in, shyly clutching the handles of a tote bag in front of her* Good evening, Mr. Edgeworth... How are you? *gives her trademark pleasant smile*
Miles: *with a look of consternation* Good evening, Iris, I- wait just a moment, cerebral acupuncture?
Franziska: You can thank me later. *turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her to give Iris (who begins to go "I'm actually not very experienced with this form of therapy at all, but...") and the Chief Prosecutor their privacy*