Work Text:
Iris Hawthorne’s eyes widen, then slowly fill with tears. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Miles says sternly, already pushing a box of napkins across the table at her.
He sort of didn’t mean to call her a coward, in all truth; he was just annoyed that she dragged him to this stupid “thank you dinner” when she has the nerve make intermittent, entirely undisguised goo-goo eyes whenever Wright’s name so much as brushes the conversation. Two days of freedom after six months of prison time, and she chooses to spend one of them thanking Miles of all people (which is so unnecessary that it borders on inappropriate) and the other - presumably - pining after Wright. Miles barely tolerates people he likes; he does not tolerate foolish meetings with foolish people; he despises, of course, that this girl will look like the perfect girlfriend hanging off Phoenix Wright’s arm, how much she’ll love being Wright’s girlfriend and how happy she’d probably make him, and that she’s too much of a spineless weakling to shoot her shot.
“But you’re right,” Iris says. She covers her mouth with her napkin, which is not at all what she should be doing with it because her eyelashes are beginning to get wet and they are at a public diner and Miles does not need to deal with people taking pictures of the “Demon Prosecutor” making a girl cry. He studiously checks over his shoulder to see who’s watching Iris struggle to get her shit together. “I am a coward. I’ve always been afraid. I could barely do anything about D… Dahlia, or her plans. It’s just… one of the reasons I shouldn’t say anything about my feelings for Mr. Wright.”
Actually, she looks a little nauseous now, so maybe she’s covering her mouth for a good reason. Now even Miles feels bad about what he said.
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Miles replies. “The only person who can change your cowardice is you. If you want Wright,” he says sternly, “then go get him. Tell him how you feel. Before someone else snatches him away from under your nose.”
Iris’ eyes widen with fear, but there in the corners - the beginnings of a focus, sharp and small like a pinprick to the finger. “He does draw people in, doesn’t he,” she says after a moment.
Oh, she doesn’t like the idea of someone stealing Wright out from under her nose, does she? Doesn’t like the idea of someone else’s hands on him, or someone else taking up residence in his heart? She doesn’t like to think about Wright spending his days fawning over some vapid, spineless, lovestruck piece of shit who doesn’t see him for who he really is or appreciate his terrifying strength and stubborn, unshakeable kindness?
Mikes kind of regrets giving Iris the napkin. He kind of wishes he’d let himself have the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
“He attracts other people without meaning to,” says Miles. “And I heard he has bad taste.”
“Yes, I did notice he’s quite - “ Iris stops dead in her tracks. “…bad taste?”
“He has a thing for people who treat him terribly,” says Miles.
Iris really has perfected the wide-eyed doe look. She’s so obnoxiously feminine. Every heterosexual man’s dream. Her long black hair is a disgustingly good match for Phoenix; they’d look like a couple just walking down the street. “Really? I - sorry - how do you know - ? No, sorry, that’s too forward, please don’t feel like you have to tell me…”
I know because he spends time with me, Miles thinks of saying. Instead: “you, of all people, should know he has a history of being reckless with his heart. Need I remind you of what happened with your sister?” Iris looks mortified, but Miles continues, unrepentant: “He’s a bit of a romantic. One of these days, some strange, no-good person is going to snatch him away and chew him up.” He examines his nails, like this doesn’t bother him. “He’s too good of a person that way. And if the wrong person gets their hands on him first, who knows if they’ll ever let him go?”
Iris stands up suddenly. “I’m going to the office,” she says.
Tell Wright I sent you, Miles wants to sneer. Tell him that whenever he kisses you and touches you and loves you, he’ll have me to thank. “Are you,” says Miles instead.
“I won’t let him - I won’t let myself stand in my own way.” Iris, bless her, looks like she’s having a whole moment of resolve while Miles is sitting here in his misanthropic hateful stew. “I have to take the chance. Even if he says no… at least I’ll have done everything I could.”
“How selfless of you,” says Miles.
Iris shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m selfish, and - and a coward, too. You are right about that, Mr. Edgeworth. But I’m the only one who can change that! I - I’m going! Now!” She takes such a deep breath that Miles wonders if she has a history of hyperventilation. “Before I lose my nerve!”
She pulls out her phone and nearly sprints to the door of the diner, stops, and comes back. Bows once, a little lower than she really should. “Thank you!”
“Before you lose your nerve,” Miles reminds her.
“Yes! Right! I’m going! Thank you again - !” and she dashes quickly out into the street and past the diner window, darting between pedestrians and trying to text at the same time.
Miles watches her go. His phone buzzes with Wright’s ringtone, which he silences and puts in his pocket. He wonders distantly whether or not it matters that every version of happiness he can envision for Wright seems to involve someone else. He wonders where he’s supposed to wait out the aftermath, if not the comfort and safety of the courtroom.