Much Obliged, Sir!

***

Strange as it was, that seemed to be the end of Edgeworth’s desk-born irritation. It simply passed out of mention, as if Edgeworth had totally eschewed it from his regular train of thought. It certainly made Gumshoe worry, for a silent Edgeworth was an especially incomprehensible one, but he came under the impression that, since Edgeworth wasn’t harping on it, the issue had come to some sort of unspoken conclusion, perhaps not to his benefit, but not gravely to his harm.

It was a rather dull Thursday. Gumshoe yet again found himself alone in the flat while Edgeworth sallied forth to perfectly execute a thankless profession. Gumshoe hoped that, even in his absence, the police department was accomplishing everything as well as possible to facilitate Edgeworth’s success, although he conversely prayed that they weren’t doing altogether –too- well, lest it give a bad impression of his professional aptitude. He couldn’t stand the thought that his performance damaged Edgeworth’s job as prosecutor, but he couldn’t help but admit that had proven true on at least a few occasions.

Due to his failure on the last occasion, Gumshoe had spent Wednesday being very quiet and very still, trying to prevent all attention. However, he was a rather bold creature by nature—whether or not it was to his credit—and thus he felt that it was nearing time to venture forth once more into the strange realm of trying to make his stay as beneficial to Edgeworth as it was to himself. He knew the odds were slim. That had never stopped him before.

This time, however, he decided that there were better contacts than Phoenix and Maya. Oh, they were nice enough, certainly: decent folk who wouldn’t want to drag an honest man down. However, they weren’t exactly versed in the ways of household care or attempts to placate such a strange form of pseudo-aristocracy. Instead, he called upon a strange connection: Maggey Byrde.

Why Maggey? To be fair, she didn’t seem a very logical choice. She suffered many of the same troubles as he did, including poor luck and an amazing ability to botch even the simplest tasks. She did, however, have a major benefit. She’d been dating Dustin Prince for a short while, and, well, when it came right down to it, Gumshoe figured she was probably doing the same things for Dustin that might suit Edgeworth. Oh, no, nothing like –that-. Definitely not. Simply the domestic endeavors which are supposed to lend charm to a place and please those who usually have to please themselves. Making lunchboxes, for instance. The limit of his craft was relatively palatable rice with a side of cooked weenies: hardly fitting fare for prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.

Maggey arrived before long. She had been pulling the night shift for the last week or so, as a startlingly large number of the usual nighttime cops had been called away for personal reasons. Though it left her weary and, as a result, rather dizzied, it did mean that she was free during the hours that Edgeworth was away. Gumshoe greeted her boisterously.

“Hey there, pal! How ya been now that I’m away?” he asked, opening the door for her to make entry. “I know it’s been just a few days, but it feels like I’ve been off the chase forever. Tell me you’re doing a bit better, pal.”

“Oh!” Maggey saluted with a thundering crash against her helmet. “Not too bad, Detective! I crashed my bicycle on the way here, but I think I’m all right! I lost my thermos, but I think I can get a new one!” She was dressed rather casually, given that it wasn’t her shift, but she still radiated the same aura as usual.

+She looks great for someone who just got into a bike accident,+ Gumshoe thought with a smile. +Then again, it probably helps that she looks great basically all the time!+ Sometimes he thought it was a shame that he was so professional. Maggey was awfully cute, no two ways about it, and Gumshoe wasn’t the type to be choosey. Still, the fact that he was her instructor barred them from anything further. Now that she had Dustin, that was even truer than before. “I hope you’re all right there, pal. And don’t worry about that ‘Detective’ business…,” his face suddenly hit a level of almost puppy-esque abashment, “since I’m not really a detective at the moment, what with being fired. Ah! But that’s all right, pal. C’mon in, it’s really nice. P-please wipe off your shoes first though; I don’t want to get the floors dirty. I’ve got no idea where the vacuum is.” If Gumshoe had been a little smarter, he might have noticed that was what the maid was for. (She came by every other day with machinery that would shame most industrial complexes.)

“Oh, no worries, sir!” Maggey replied, immediately shedding her short boots in full. Her left sock had a hole in the toe. “You said I might be able to help you out with Mr. Edgeworth’s things? I hope you’re not intending to steal anything, sir! I think that would be a –very- bad idea, sir!” She saluted again, just for good measure.

Gumshoe laughed, “No, nothin’ like that, pal!” +Sh-she thinks I’m thief material? I’m really not that smooth….+ “I just thought you might be able to give me some pointers! He’s letting me stay at his place, but I don’t really have any way to repay him. Well, unless I learn how to make tea or cook or something of the sort. Er, you know. It’s not that I expect you’ll know just ‘cause you’re a woman or anything, it’s just that I don’t think anyone in the world could be clueless as I am.” +Except for, er, Maya…. But she’s got her other talents, I guess.+ He was already fumbling.

Thinking nothing of it, Maggey continued into the room, not letting her policewoman demeanor waver for a moment. “I understand, sir! It’s all part of the policeman’s code!”

“Is it?”

“Probably, sir! I mean, it’s about trust, so, yes! Something like that!” she assured him. +Wow, look at all these things! I don’t think I’ve ever sat foot into an apartment this lavish before. I wonder why he needs all this stuff? Doesn’t he live alone? Other than Gumshoe, I mean. And that doesn’t really count. Is that painting real?+ she wondered. “Don’t worry, sir! When I was young, I was always saddled with the chores like cooking and cleaning and the laundry and mowing the lawn and the taxes and my point is, of course I can help you out!” she beamed. Then her expression turned a little sadder. “It’s the least I can do, considering what happened. It was awful what Gant did. I don’t think any of us could have imagined….”

Gumshoe waved his hands to the side. “Don’t worry about it, pal. Everythin’s working out really well, actually. Er, mostly well. Okay, perhaps not great, pal. I think you’re going to have to be the instructor now,” he continued nervously.

“Maggey Byrde, at your service!”


***

She made a mean soup, it was true (though she briefly set fire to her sleeve.) By the seventh try, Gumshoe could make a passable one. Maggey had tried to explain following the recipe as being the same as following protocol for a case, but that didn’t seem to particularly help. Still, practice made for competency, and Gumshoe expected little more of himself. Gumshoe had his reservations about serving Edgeworth something as plebian as tomato soup, but he didn’t think he’d manage any better, and if Edgeworth refused to consume something on the basis of its homeliness, then Gumshoe was ruined before he even began.

“Wooph! Thanks, Maggey, you’re an absolute lifesaver!”

“Considering you’re doing this for Mr. Edgeworth, that might be true,” Maggey mused. Her gaze was focused intensely on the top of the soup, which had formed a thin skin. Oh well, that was fairly normal. He’d just have to heat it up and stir once Edgeworth returned, and it’d be gone as if it had never been. +True, Mr. Edgeworth was able to help out, where none of the rest of us at the station really had the resources or will, but… the guy’s not exactly personable. I’d almost think he were trying to dig up dirt on poor Dick, but considering how much Mr. Edgeworth owes him, I really doubt it. I mean, Mr. Edgeworth owes him, too…. I guess.+

Gumshoe was a tad disheartened. “Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say, pal. Without people like Mr. Edgeworth, all the work we do, well it’s for nothing. We might be able to find evidence and give testimony, but he’s the one who puts everythin’ together, pal.” He brought his head over the soup pot and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, this smells great! You’re a genius, Maggey!”

“Anything to help, sir!” Salute!

***

When Edgeworth opened the door, Maggey was still there. Gumshoe and Maggey had been enjoying themselves so much, she’d forgotten that, at some point, she was expected to actually leave.

“—But the knife, the –knife- didn’t have a spot of blood on it!” Maggey revealed with a burst of characteristic energy. “So we looked around, and do you know what we found? It was the handle of an oversized novelty clock, shoved right behind the bookcase! It was amazing! I couldn’t believe it!”

Gumshoe slapped his knee. “No way, pal! That’s amazing! You guys are really holding down the fort while I’m gone, aren’t ya, pal?”

That was enough of that. Edgeworth coughed. “Miss Byrde, you ought to refrain from discussing the details of high-profile police cases with civilians. It is against protocol, after all. Additionally, it is quite… nice… to see you. I didn’t recall inviting you to my home, but as long as you have found your way, do make yourself welcome,” he remarked blandly. If anything, it was the blandness that made it so inhospitable.

“Erk!” She turned about, seeing the prosecutor. “Ah, Mr—Mr. Edgeworth! I… I was just about to leave, sir!” Her salute could have leveled an elephant.

“What a shame. Do come back some time, Miss Byrde.”

She was gone before Gumshoe could even utter another word. She almost left her shoes but, at the last minute, snatched them up from the ground as she darted past Miles and out into the hallway with a half-stumble. Though she trusted Edgeworth and knew him to be a valuable part of the force, she had little desire to explain exactly why she was in the home—especially considering that it had been her intent to help Gumshoe appear as though he’d managed to create food by himself.

“Ah, I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon, sir!”

“Half an hour late? You have an interesting grasp of chronology,” Edgeworth soughed, setting his briefcase to the side.

+Uh, I suppose that’s right,+ Gumshoe thought with no small margin of astonishment. He’d been having too much fun. The only bits that interrupted his joy were the moments when Dustin was mentioned, but he’d managed to control himself with amazing aplomb. “Er, I’m very sorry, sir!” he apologized. “She came by to help try and cheer me up. I didn’t mean for it to be any kind of problem, pal.”

Edgeworth shrugged. +If it keeps him away from my furniture, I haven’t cause to complain.+ “You appear a tad red about the face. Though it would appear to be from a rather innocent bout of friendly banter, I do feel obliged to say that there are rules of decorum for when you are in another’s place of residence. I would not expect that you and she are…?”

Gumshoe went redder yet. “It’s nothing like that, sir. Definitely not! She was my prodigy—er, protégé, I meant. It’d be way too unprofessional for me to do anything, er, more personal than that, pal!” He stood up from where he’d been sitting on the couch. He thought it was only fair to face Edgeworth more directly. “She’s got someone else, anyway.”

+Now it wavers between ‘sir’ and ‘pal.’ I’m amazed it didn’t go through a ‘sal’ or ‘pir’ phase.+ “Ah, good. I would be very displeased to hear that you were neglecting professional guidelines simply because there is a gap in your term of employment, given the additional tarnish it would lend to the system.” (Not to mention that Edgeworth was damn near allergic to tacky behavior.) His eyes passed back to the door for a brief moment. “Do pardon me for jumping to any conclusions. If I may, she rather seemed your type.” +Or at least, that you might be hers….+

Gumshoe’s blush had reached his ears. “Uh, n-not really. I mean, I don’t really have a ‘type,’ sir….”

“Ahh. Low standards, then. The self-esteem of those involved with law never fails to inspire me.”

His shoulders sagged. “It’s not really like that, pal. You make it sound a lot… er, more pathetic than it should.” +I hope, anyway.+ “I just grew up being willing to accept anything, pretty much. It’s only fair, pal. It doesn’t pay for guys like me to be picky. Not about food, clothes, romance, or anythin’. Trust me, if I were picky, I’d starve naked and alone, pal.”

“Do spare me the mental image.”

“Sorry, sir,” Gumshoe replied.

Edgeworth huffed, “Oh well. It doesn’t matter anything to me. If I recall, I rather barred you from my bedroom.”

Cherry-red, Gumshoe picked up his coat (which he had shed and lain across the back of the couch) and stumbled toward the door to the room where he currently resided. “I, uh… that’s not exactly what I…. You know, I think I forgot something. In the,” +No, that would be a bad choice of words….+ “Uhm, excuse me, sir….” The door shut with an oddly distinct click behind him. He rested his back against the closed door. That had been much, much too awkward for its own good. He was hardly the master of social suaveness, and this had gone a long way toward proving it.

Blinking, Edgeworth observed the now-empty room. +Perhaps that was one flippant comment too many.+ He sniffed the air, sensing a new odor. Wandering over to the kitchen, he observed a pot of tomato soup—probably enough for about three days. Oddly enough, he didn’t mind. It did smell rather delicious.

(To be continued... and hopefully we can get into the romance soon. Yeah, I know. It's a slow start.)