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18
[Phoenix was whistling when he'd headed to Geoff's room, big goofy smile plastered onto his face and ready to share his good mood and maybe a few drinks with his dearest friend. It wasn't until after he'd knocked a couple of times that he noticed the missing nameplate.]
...oh, no.
[He tries the doorknob, finds it unlocked; when he slides into the room, everything is dark and bare, save for a few piles of personal belongings and a catlike Pokemon asleep amidst them all.
For a long while, Phoenix just stands there in the middle of the room, staring blankly. In some way, distantly, he's sure he's lucky--he's been here for eight months now, and this is the first time he's had to say goodbye to someone he's been very close to--but that thought isn't really helping. Looking to distract himself from threatening tears, he begins examining what's left behind in the abandoned room, and soon notices a stack of letters nearby. It doesn't take long for him to skim the opening note and sort through each of the labeled messages until he finds his own.
After he's read it over many times, he softly repeats the words he'd spoken to his friend that difficult night more than a month ago.]
Geoff... you still have people here who care about you, and you always will.
[And then, with a resolve that doesn't quite make it to his wavering voice, he cracks open his journal for the inevitable.]
Geoffrey Chaucer went home.
There's some stuff here. I guess we should divide it up, or something. And he left... there are letters. I don't even know some of you, but here are the names on the envelopes:
[Silence and a written list follow.]
Martel, Wesley, Ashura, Dairine, Del, Felix, Mark, Crowley, Fred, Nora, Cole, Gwaine
...oh, no.
[He tries the doorknob, finds it unlocked; when he slides into the room, everything is dark and bare, save for a few piles of personal belongings and a catlike Pokemon asleep amidst them all.
For a long while, Phoenix just stands there in the middle of the room, staring blankly. In some way, distantly, he's sure he's lucky--he's been here for eight months now, and this is the first time he's had to say goodbye to someone he's been very close to--but that thought isn't really helping. Looking to distract himself from threatening tears, he begins examining what's left behind in the abandoned room, and soon notices a stack of letters nearby. It doesn't take long for him to skim the opening note and sort through each of the labeled messages until he finds his own.
After he's read it over many times, he softly repeats the words he'd spoken to his friend that difficult night more than a month ago.]
Geoff... you still have people here who care about you, and you always will.
[And then, with a resolve that doesn't quite make it to his wavering voice, he cracks open his journal for the inevitable.]
Geoffrey Chaucer went home.
There's some stuff here. I guess we should divide it up, or something. And he left... there are letters. I don't even know some of you, but here are the names on the envelopes:
[Silence and a written list follow.]
Martel, Wesley, Ashura, Dairine, Del, Felix, Mark, Crowley, Fred, Nora, Cole, Gwaine

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[Suddenly, he's flustered with himself, feeling silly for trying to be... what? Romantic? Expressive of his feelings? Either way, it's not always something he has a lot of trouble with, but suddenly he feels very stupid to say such things.]
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I am sure even Lord Tennyson couldn't have expressed himself any better.
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Are you feeling any better?
didn't get a notif of this ;;
[And blushing considerably, too.]
You're very distracting.
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[He just grunts, and twists more, so that now he's able to press his lips against Edgeworth's jawline. This he does, repeatedly and a bit clumsily; clearly, the distraction was super effective.]
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His eyes then fling open.]
Ah! The bath!
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Huh?
[It takes his brain a moment to catch up, as foggy as it was getting a moment before. When it does, he whines.]
Just let it overflow...
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...as tempting as that sounds...
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Still, he reluctantly lets go.]
...s...stupid water. Interrupting things.
[And a nervous, short little laugh.]
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...You might wish to get ready for that bath.
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[...but he's not moving anyway.]
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Have you changed your mind?
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[Oh, screw it. He just shakes his head and stands up, heading to the bathroom and pulling his shirt off as he goes, giving Edgeworth a needlessly defiant look.]
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I'll leave you be. I trust you can take it from here?
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[He returns that smirk and is really only partly joking.]
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[He sputters a little too much at that. And here he thought he had the upper hand in that comment!]
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[It's an almost nonsensical comeback, but he wasn't expecting to be taken up on his suggestion. He glances over at the hot tub of water and suddenly feels very cold standing there with his shirt off.]
...either way, that bath looks pretty inviting.
[And then he quirks an eyebrow, glances back to Edgeworth; for a moment, at least, he's regained his footing in the teasing banter.]
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...You are telling me? If you're simply going to stand there and stare, I may have to take it over, myself...
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[With a shrug, he moves to finish undressing himself. His hands are shaking, but he's banking on Edgeworth's bluffing... or his own nerves calming down a little.]
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