[video]

[glassinine]

[The thing about employing text is that when you start using it when all your broadcasts are in video, people tend to question why you've suddenly switched. So he makes the decision to instead compose himself as best as he can and use video instead.

Unfortunately, he always sort of overestimates his ability to compose himself. He certainly doesn't seem distraught, or panicked, or anything of the sort, but he's definitely shaky. This is definitely a far cry from his normal, slow, quiet, lengthy broadcasts.]

I'm leaving on a business trip abroad for...some length of time. I'm - not certain how long. Please don't try to contact me; I'll be far too busy to answer any messages.

Good day.

Comments

[glassinine]

[But Edgeworth - he doesn't even hesitate before replying. It's just:]

You don't.

[mmiab]

[ it's an opening. ]

And you're certain of that how?

[glassinine]

[Screw it.]

Because this is a private matter.

[mmiab]

[ there. he's in. but it's personal now and forced retreat often inspires increased fortification down the line.

steady now, Doctor. careful. ]

I understand that. It isn't mine. But it's not just yours, either, is it?

[glassinine]

...No. It is not.

[mmiab]

And you're shutting them out.

[glassinine]

[Oh. Edgeworth thought...he was referring to the victims. He meant the people protesting.]

I...Everyone else is just - That will be fine. That all is inconsequential. It will pass.

[mmiab]

Inconsequential.

[ at any other time, he might sound angry at that. instead, he's pensive. the response sounds akin to a backpedal, as if he's startled him somehow, and the Doctor stores it away, levels it up against the other things he knows. lets it go, for the moment, because it's indicative of something else too, and that something is infinitely more important than protesting the importance of those who care.

in fact, perhaps their importance is forefront in both their minds.

his thoughts drift out, barely policed, overly familiar in ways he's no grounds to be - stream-of-consciousness, just like he'd reprimanded him for that first conversation, but the stream is entirely different from that babbling nonsense he'd spewed the first time. ]

This is bigger than you. It's bigger than your pride and it's bigger than your career. It's bigger than everything you've made of yourself. You're trampling all over everything you are and you're not backing down and that's huge, for you, that's huge Miles— so what is it?

[glassinine]

[He presses his hands against his eyes. His voice is muffled slightly by his hands.]

I don't know what you're talking about.

[mmiab]

You know exactly, don't waste words.

[ and— abruptly, he softens. entirely. because he doesn't want to push him to a breaking point, that isn't why he's here. ]

... If you tell me, I will help you.

[ conviction. there's no if, but or maybe in his tone. he will help.

the sacrifice being made here is huge - misguided or not he can't ascertain yet, not without knowing what he's making the sacrifice for, what it is that's driving him to do it. but the more he thinks on it, the more little peeks of motivation he's given, the more he comes to understand that this has less to do with running away and more to do with... what he doesn't know. but this isn't a man who abandons everything he places value in for a coward's fear. this isn't that. so it bears saying: ]

This is brave, but it's dangerous. I can tell you that because I've done it before. Isolation isn't a cure.

[glassinine]

[He's quiet a long moment. Finally, he relents, just a bit. His voice is quiet and unhappy, but it's a little steadier than before.]

It's not isolation. It's quarantine. Quarantine might not be a cure, but it must be done if the man is a danger.

[mmiab]

[ finally.

a quick second to process that, and then... well. Edgeworth certainly isn't looking for comfort, the stubborn attempts at distancing himself from the emotions of what he's experiencing decides that. so to make this easier, he decides to treat it (for now, until further notice) as business. ]

What kind of danger, exactly?

[glassinine]

[He looks down, and away. He takes off his glasses to polish them. His answer is terse.]

Mental and emotional.

[mmiab]

[ and clearly not as a result of conversation. powers, then. and seeing as how he's been backed into a corner where he believes his only option to be quarantine, it follows that it's not a purposeful choice on his part to be dangerous. ]

Unstable power.

[glassinine]

[He takes a breath, then, unhappily, admits:]

Yes.

[mmiab]

Alright. [ alright. now they're getting somewhere. mental, emotional - it's promising. there's a chance, a chance he might be in a position to help more directly than he'd assumed, and for a second or two the Doctor actually smiles--

ah. but first, there's more to ask, isn't there? and he's hesitant in taking the step, expression reversing back into something on the cusp of apologetic as he asks: ] What is it? Your power.

[glassinine]

[It's good Edgeworth isn't looking; that smile would make him bristle. But he can't look the Doctor in the fact; his shame is too intense. He keeps his eyes closed.]

It...induces uncontrollable feelings of guilt in those I touch.

[mmiab]

[ — oh.

there is a long, long silence from him following that, the wind swept right out of his sails. oh. guilt. it's a double edged sword, really. not even double edged - it's a pen knife with no casing. because the Doctor can help with this. it's a thing of the mind, a power all up in Edgeworth's head, in the heads of others, the manipulation of emotion, and training it and tethering it will be all about finding that control, that mental connection with his ability, and that's something with which the Doctor is in a perfect position to help.

but it's funny, isn't it? because guilt. the one thing that wracks him, always, always. terrifies him. guilt. his plague, his own personal poltergeists. there are many of them. in reality, there are billions, and if only that were an overstatement. which, of course, is what makes him entirely too equipped to handle this exact power. there is no guilt anyone could wring out of him that he hasn't already forced upon himself a thousand fold over the span of centuries. guilt is an old friend he wishes he'd never made but would not be himself without.

the cherry to top it all off, touch is exactly what he requires to make the connection to access a mind in the first place. it would be funny if it weren't so damning.

after moments, long stretched moments: ]

I can help.

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth isn't a fool, though, when it comes down to it. He hears that long pause - marked, particularly in a man who previously had been so garrulous and quick - and he feels a sadistic (masochistic?) sort of satisfaction in it. There's something miserably gratifying in being so horrific that even this arrogant, enthusiastic, optimistic man hesitates before offering help again. It makes him feel vindicated in his self-loathing. It makes him feel more certain of his path, even in the face of those who made him doubt by scoffing at the agony of what he can do.

And so he asks, with a bit more confidence:]

And how would you do so?

[mmiab]

[ he senses the shift in atmosphere, the accidental concession, and plows on through it, in spite of it, mildly frustrated.

it doesn't touch his voice. his moment of feet-out-from-under-him is pushed aside in favor of answering as directly and thoroughly as he's able. ]

I've already explained that I'm physiologically different. My brain is structured in such a way as to promote direct and intricate communication with the minds of others. With your co-operation, I can help you to establish control at the source - without having examined your mind I can't tell you how, exactly, or how long it would take. The mind in most respects is a muscle that needs to be flexed of one's own accord before it starts to strengthen, but I can't say that's exactly how this will be. I don't know the nature of your power as it relates to you, not without encountering it... but I can tell you I would act as guide.

I'll be much better equipped to access and understand the ability's effects and placement in your mind than you yourself are without experimentation. My presence, hopefully, would act as a catalyst to your bringing your power to heel. An alternative to training it externally.

[glassinine]

[It's a good speech. The man sounds confident, coherent, and rational.

Yet Edgeworth's response is brief and unambiguous. A bit less harsh than before, maybe, but no less firm despite that.

No.

[mmiab]

[ augh.

with a trace of exasperation: ]

Why.

[glassinine]

[And this is explained a little more rationally. A bit less haltingly than it has been for others.]

Sir, the ability activates outside of my control. If you were to attempt that, the possibility that it would activate against you is significant. I will not allow it.

[mmiab]

[ oh, that. and here the Doctor sighs, sharp and distant, face a veritable pout as if the concern is vaguely offensive rather than a noble placement of the well-being of others over oneself.

it's enough, in fact, to have him scoff. ]

Please. You're small fry.

[ i don't need a power like that to be infinitely better equipped to destroy myself from the inside out, and I haven't managed it yet.

(perhaps it's a little blase to be so sure of himself in this situation. but the reality is that regardless of how badly Miles' power might effect him, it makes sense for the Doctor to help him in this. it makes sense, and even as he reacts dismissively he's already preparing to lay down in no deniable manner the exact reasons why. ]

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth is completely taken aback by that statement. His gaze snaps back towards the Doctor, and his mouth opens in sheer, stunned disbelief. Then he closes it again, and grits his jaw, and snaps:]

I've said no. That's my answer. Any further discussion is wasting both your time and mine.