feeling all alone (baby please come home)

Phoenix looks around the room, trying to refute his ridiculous earlier statement. But… he only finds more evidence. The half drunk bottle of wine, the remnants of a catered wagyu steak dinner, the cake. Edgeworth’s house is clean and atmospheric and the lights dimmed enough to be pleasant on the eyes; there’s a fire crackling in the hearth. Soft jazzy renditions of Christmas classics play through the stereo very faintly. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Date-like. Date-ly. Date-ishly.” “Please stop doing that to suffixes,” Edgeworth requests.~~Wrightworth and ten years of Christmas.