ataraxion | [voice, sec filter and then unfiltered]

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[voice, sec filter and then unfiltered]

[The first broadcast is on the SEC filter.]

I, um. I - formally request that someone be sent to my room to...arrest me on suspicion of murder. I - I need to be placed in the brig until the matter is resolved. With...full punishment no matter what happens.

[Edgeworth's voice is low, and he's uncharacteristically halting and unsure. The next broadcast - to the ship at large - is a little better, but not by much.]

The body found earlier today was that of Manfred von Karma, a man from my home. If anyone has any information about this crime, I beg that you...come forward to share it. Please speak to Tyke, as I will be, ah - indisposed.

The fellow who found the body, Marty, is - completely blameless. So please no one even speak about the possibility of him having anything to do with it.

I...Thank you.

[ooc: All part of the plot seen here! If anyone has any questions about what their characters can know, as ever, PM me or private plurk me.]

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[She sends a warning to the others on security-- I have this-- before she comes to his rooms. She shouldn't, really, she should leave it to others who've been here longer-- but Edgeworth was the one who spoke to her first. Who was kindest to her. So maybe she wants to be the one to go to him, to find out what's going on even as she arrests him.

She's dressed as usual, of course, covered in weapons-- but she hasn't any drawn as she opens his door.]

Edgeworth?

[He looks up as she comes in. His face is deeply lined, deeply haunted; he's dressed in his suit, but his cravat is bedraggled and limp. He swallows hard, nods at her.]

Good - good day, ma'am. I'm - You'll have to handcuff me.

[She nods.]

Hands out front.

[And then, quietly:]

What's this about?

[He takes in a deep breath, and closes his eyes, his face twisted, but he holds out his hands.]

The man who died. I should be the prime suspect in his murder.

[She pulls a face.]

It's the first time I've seen a suspect give himself up so readily.

[Carefully, as gently as she can, she cuffs him. They're on, of course, secure-- but she doesn't tighten the cuffs as cruelly as she could.]

Although if I was home-- I have a friend who gets noble urges like this. Giving herself up because she thinks it's the right thing to do.

[She tilts her head at him.]

She thinks the innocent don't have much to fear from justice. I don't know if I agree-- but I think people like you, you've got a decent chance.

Ready?

[There's a shudder that runs through him when the cuffs click into place, a full-body tremor; he swallows hard. His voice sounds like he's on the verge of tears.]

No. You can't - You can't think like that. You can't talk like that. You need to treat me like a guilty party.

[He draws in a hitching breath.]

But yes. I'm - I'm ready.

[She leads the way out, guiding them both down the hall, and doesn't say anything for a long while-- not until they've reached the lift, until she can't bear the silence.]

What else can I do? You . . . there must be a man of law. One who can defend you.

[He lets out a shaky breath.]

No. They - they never let me make a system of law. So there's nothing to - protect me.

[He hesitates, shakes his head.]

Ignore that. Forget - forget that I said that. No matter what happens, I have no complaints.

If nothing else, Miles Edgeworth, you have me.

[She waves a hand before he can protest that.]

Don't. Just-- know that.

[She glances over at him as they reach the floor and the doors open.]

I won't promise it will be all right. But . . . you won't die unjustly.

[He presses himself up against that wall as they take the elevator down. He's too torn up, too miserable to even really be afraid; his phobia is just at the corner of his mind, a jangle along his nerves that makes him feel even sicker. His eyes remain closed, and his response to her promise is nothing more than a miserable, trembling shake of his head.

He follows her out.]

[The brig is a clean place, secure enough and far better than the dungeons at home-- but still, Talia's stomach drops as she puts him in and begins undoing the cuffs. She doesn't apologize for the action, nor for locking him in-- but she wants to, and what sort of warrior has instincts like that?]

[But he retreats to the bench as soon as he's uncuffed, wrapping his arms around himself, then lifting one hand to his face. His voice is high, and trembling; he sounds like a lost kid, nothing more than that. Still, the words he offers are:]

I, um - Thank you.

[It goes up on the end, like a question.]

[She nods and settles in front of his cell, legs crossed gracefully beneath her. Quietly:]

I can leave, if you want to be alone. But . . . I wouldn't mind staying with you. If you want company.

[His head sinks down. His breath hitches - difficult, miserable - and he doesn't say anything. But, after a moment, he nods.]

[Right. She settles a little more. A long pause-- and then, quietly:]

About four years ago-- when I worked as a spy-- my partner Snow and I were chasing down a group of criminals. We wanted their ringleader most of all, a man named Jonas, but it was difficult-- he was clever, you see. Well, we finally found a way-- or rather, Snow found a way-- but it wasn't easy. We'd have to dress as harlots, and of course Snow delighted in that; her bed is never empty--

[She talks on and on. It's a humorous story, really, a good one to tell Edgeworth. She's a good storyteller, too, drawing out the tension at the right points, her timing right on cue-- but she watches Edgeworth as she talks, trying to read his reactions.]

[And he doesn't laugh. Of course not. He doesn't even smile. There's no break in the set misery of his face, and he remains silent throughout. He does, however, relax - very slowly, very slowly, his posture uncurls. It becomes less miserably defensive. He wins the fight against tears and starts to breathe a little bit more steadily.]

[Once that story is finished, she pauses for a moment-- and then talks again, her voice even and normal, as if he'd invited her over to tea.]

Do you have legends in your world? Fairy tales?

[It takes a moment, but after three breaths he nods. Then he swallows and says:]

Yes.

Sleeping Beauty.

[She gives him a little smile, though it's a tad strained.]

That's what they decided to call me, during the hundred years I was asleep.

Indisposed? I thought you had plenty to say when crimes happened.

[He lifts his head to look at her. Quietly:]

Hundred...years?

[He speaks quietly.]

As I will almost undoubtedly be the prime suspect for this case, I think it indiscreet to speak on it.

You don't know the story? I slept for a hundred years thanks to a fairy spell, and was woken by a-- kiss.

[She shakes her head.]

The real story isn't so romantic.

[A hesitation, then:]

What happened, then?

You? [She laughs.] You're joking, right? Weren't you the one preaching about how wrong it is to kill anyone no matter what?

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