demise_archive | rebuttal 13 ► [December 20, lunch

[Normally Miles' default post type is video, but today, he can't show himself to the network. But he didn't choose text either; it felt like a pitiful attempt to just hide away from everyone and everything (and text messages from a person who normally presents himself over the network or at least speaks audibly can be suspicious, even if he has used text before when he lost his voice). Even though technically, that's what he's doing right now.

After motorbiking his way to Casualty Communal, Shibusen (he even passed by the BREW chamber and had itched to just walk up to the thing and demand answers to his questions) and the possible places his father could be, he returned to his unit, and locked himself in his room. He sat at his bed for a long time before deciding that anyone who knew Gregory had to hear the news. It wasn't going to be easy, but...really, all the evidence pointed to that one dreary conclusion. Gregory's apartment was spotless - far too spotless, and he had not answered to Miles' messages. And the prosecutor believed that even if he made a call at two in the morning, Gregory would willingly get up and answer it, not that Miles was the type to call for his dad like that. The frequency he had been trying to reach (as the last of his feelings of denial slipped away, as reality began sinking in painfully) no longer existed.

He switched on his communicator, fighting the urge to just break down and cry. His hopes for a better Christmas...his hopes for a second chance to be with his father...even his hopes to protect him here...had all been shattered by the very item that had promised him these.

At least there had been closure. At least he had managed to tell Gregory everything before the older man left. But still. It was as if an old scar had begun to ache once again. It didn't...hurt the way it did when he was nine and when he suffered through endless nightmares, but it hurt nonetheless, despite his rational mind reminding him that this was the way things were, according to the natural flow of time. This was how it should be. Why did he even think that BREW was giving him a second chance? It was a capricious, indecisive demon tool perfectly capable of undoing what it has done, and then undoing that. Besides, this world was at war. Surely it was better for Gregory to stay out of the crossfire?

But still. Sure, he would be safe from that, but back home, he would be...would be...

...

His voice is level and low, a strict monotone that would most probably not betray any shred of emotion. Every word is pronounced with the utmost care as if each one was made of the finest china.]

To those who have spoken to him during his stay...Gregory Edgeworth has been returned home by BREW.

[He didn't add "my father" after Gregory's name. Because if he did, his voice would probably waver. Or worse. And the last thing he needed was people fussing over him, asking how he was, if he was going to be okay...

Should he add something else? Like how he didn't feel like going to work? That he was most likely going to spend the rest of the day here in DCH? Honestly, he didn't know if he could speak any longer. While saying where he wouldn't be was almost like making it easier for people to find him when he didn't want to be found, common courtesy prevailed in the end.]

I will not be at the Agency today. [There is an edge of finality to his voice here, though. Clearly, questions will not be entertained on this subject.]

That is all.

[OOC: I'll be backtagging this so much because I'm approaching WEEKS OF DOOM AND DESTRUCTION.]