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[teaserving]

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[jurisprudence]

Ah. Um.

To be clear, you're inviting me over. To your residence?

[teaserving]

either that or i can swing over
i dont really care if your place is a mess because of your crap roommate

[jurisprudence]

I've tidied up somewhat since. Somewhat.

Would it be too much of an imposition to have you come to me? If it is, feel free to say so, but that's what I'd prefer, if it's all the same to you.

[teaserving]

I dont really have any strong feelings about it so I'll come over with some decent wine
Just send me your address

[jurisprudence]

Certainly. It's on the north side of town; I'll forward address and directions.

[BEEP BEEP BOOP]

[teaserving]

all right on my way

[Maybe it's going out of his way for someone he hardly knows, but he's made a pretty quick assessment on Edgeworth. Overall, he does like him plenty and he does know the irrational feeling of I'm a cursed man, stay away from me. Hell, he's been there, will probably be there again one day.

As he gets closer to the address, he feels like it's suspiciously familiar. By the time he arrives in front of the door, Abbacchio feels sweat on his brow despite the cold outside.

Edgeworth's roommate ruined his apartment. Edgeworth's roommate. Yeah, that's... not exactly the truth, but it's not like he owes Edgeworth the truth right? Caesar was a dick anyway and it was his fault, not Abbacchio's.

Yeah. Sure. Anyway.

Abbacchio clears his throat and knocks on the door.]

[jurisprudence]

[It's almost comical how, even for his own definition of haggard and unfit for public consumption, Edgeworth still manages to be actually respectably presentable. Sure, he's wearing sweatpants, but they're black and fitted so at a glance you might not even notice at first, and he's found himself a soft cashmere sweater in a light gray hue with a turtleneck to make up for his missing cravat. Even his hair manages to look fine, being more rakishly disheveled than actually messy.

How does he do it? Maybe it's Maybelline.

That is, the one flaw in him, for the record — the dark circles under his eyes that for once aren't covered up because he's showered and washed his face recently, and didn't see much point in putting it back on.

Tired, a little vulnerable, and cozy: that's the Miles Edgeworth that cracks the door and peers around it, already half-knowing what he'll find.]

Hello. Thank you for coming — please, come inside.

[He pulls the door open, and while it's true things have been straightened up...yeah, it's apparent that someone did a number on this place. WHO COULD THAT HAVE BEEN.]

The seating is fine, at least. Needn't worry about that. Oh — but I do have a dog. You're not allergic, are you?

[teaserving]

[HMMM yeah it looks better in here. Oops. He'll... try to make it up to Edgeworth somehow in a way that, hopefully, he won't realize. ...No, he'll absolutely become suspicious because Edgeworth is clever, but that's for future!Abbacchio to deal with.

So, he shrugs casually, and goes in.]

Nah, I like dogs. You're fine. [The one thing he did not fuck up: anything related to the dog because dogs don't have a choice where they live.]

You eat yet?

[jurisprudence]

She's friendly, but she's a longhair breed, so there's always the chance of some shedding. I have a roller, however, if she...

[...a man has come over to drink wine and spend time with him in his apartment in the evening and he's talking about lint rollers. fuck. fuck.]

...Well. There's.

[...]

I made puttanesca. Badly, I think.

[teaserving]

It's fine. [Abbacchio smiles crookedly.] Dogs shed, you can't do anything about that.

[please for the love of god let him touch your dog]

Well, if you're hungry, I promise I can make us something edible.

[jurisprudence]

The, ah. Roommate felt the same way. I'm not much of a hand in the kitchen, but he showed me how to — made me, really — work up a few things. Mostly I think he was just perpetually disgusted with the state of my pantry.

[He pauses a minute, then flashes a wry smile of his own.]

As I said. Italian.

[teaserving]

Classic Italian.

[Too bad he was an ASSHOLE. Not that Abbacchio is that much less of one, but still--

Anyway.]

Look. I'm gonna assume control of your kitchen and put something together. Have some wine and we can-- I don't know. We can just talk.

[jurisprudence]

...That sounds nice, actually. I'll find some glasses and —

[AND WAIT BECAUSE AT PRECISELY THAT MOMENT IN THROUGH THE DOOR PADS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD.

She pauses only for the barest moment, like she wasn't expecting a stranger to be in her house alongside her owner, but then quickly shrugs it off and trots over to sit primly in front of Abbacchio and hold up a paw for a shake.

The little show-off.]

Ah, there she is. Hello, Pess, good girl.

[teaserving]

Ha! Look at who's so well trained.

[Abbacchio doesn't even hesitate. Kneeling down, he takes her paw for a shake.]

What a pretty girl. Look at you. I bet you're spoiled rotten, huh?

[jurisprudence]

Unfortunately, yes. Though she's too prim to beg for scraps, thankfully; she knows she'll always get her treat if she's patient enough.

[Agreeably, Pess lets her paw be held and bobbed up and down, licking her snout in a look of unmistakable approval while Edgeworth reaches down and absently scratches behind her ears.]

If she gets underfoot, just ask her to move. She's curious, but she'll behave.

[teaserving]

I've learned to walk around wrestling, screaming teenagers. A dog's not gonna be a problem. I guarantee she's better trained than them anyway.

[It's very clear in Abbacchio's face that he is already completely charmed by her. He holds up his hand to let her sniff before he goes to tend to the kitchen. He is, however, kind enough to pop open his bottle of wine for Edgeworth get into.]

And hey, at least you have reasonable company still. Pess will take care of you.

[jurisprudence]

Teach her to make whatever you're preparing, and then we'll see.

[He follows Abbacchio in, with Pess trailing close behind, and moves easily to a cabinet to bring down two wineglasses and fill them once the bottle is uncorked. One he leaves near the sink, out of the way of Abbacchio's prep area but close enough that he can shift and reach for it, and takes the bottle back with him as he goes to sit at the table.

Pess, naturally, shoves her head into his lap the instant he's seated. His precious.]

...I lied about the thing you all had in common, as I'm sure you've guessed. My colleague isn't Italian.

[teaserving]

When she gets thumbs, I'll do it right away.

[Anyhow! He does get to work on making something more edible. Maybe just another round of puttanesca, but like not shitty. It's pretty easy, but maybe it's the Italian blood.]

Yeah, I didn't think so. [He has a sip of wine.] You gonna tell me what the common factor is?

[jurisprudence]

[Hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm. Maybe he better have a sip of this wine, first. And really, anyway, what could it hurt? It's not like he has a lengthy, decorated career here, or a reputation to uphold, or an adoptive parent who gaslit him for fifteen years whose standards he's supposed to live up to.

Hah. How liberating.]

I rather liked all of you. Well — like, in your case. Present tense, for you.

[teaserving]

[Liked. Well, from most anyone else, that would be a pretty vague thing, wouldn't it? But Edgeworth is the kind of guy who has a hard time expressing something that personal, he bets. Which... yeah, Abbacchio gets that in his own way. It's in part why he brought the wine.

The smell of tomatoes and pasta wafts in the air as he works, pausing to drink from his glass.]

...Look, believe it or not, but I get how you feel. On a few levels. For awhile, I thought maybe there was something wrong with me too. Something like I was cursed or some shit, and I couldn't afford to be close to anyone.

In your case, it's just bad luck. I hate to put it that way, but there's nothing about you that would have caused them to vanish.

[jurisprudence]

Because something would happen, and it would be your fault. Even if it wasn't you directly. Even if logically someone else was more culpable. It's still your fault. Somehow. "You did this," you'd think, and on some level you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't shake the sense that it felt right.

[He rotates his wrist slowly, spinning the wine in his glass.]

It's most egregious in the case of my colleague. I've abandoned him with no warning so many times, and now I have the audacity to be upset that he's done it once to me.

[teaserving]

You may have set up the domino pieces, but what really nudged them to fall? Kind of like that. Trust me, it's hard to shake off.

[He thinks about it all the time.

Abbacchio goes quiet for a moment, working on dishing up the two of them before he's approaching with two plates.]

Think you'd treat him any differently if you saw him again around here?

[jurisprudence]

[He thinks that over a minute, then huffs a soft laugh.]

No, likely not. I ought to. But I'd forget myself, I expect. Fall into the old patterns instead of maintaining new ones.

[He thinks another minute.]

There was a night I should have kissed him, about a year ago. I didn't. Likely it's for the best, but it's a mistake I should have made.

[teaserving]

[There's a snort from Abbacchio as he drinks his wine. He relates too hard on that, which is why he made his confession to Bruno. It didn't amount to anything, but at least he said something just in case the worst had come to pass. Bruno never owed him anything, and it wasn't the time to think about it either. So, yeah.]

You feel like you lost your chance?

[jurisprudence]

I wouldn't say I lost the chance. More that I lost the...opportune moment. There was a distinct "right time", and I let it go past.

[Strangely, the more he overshares (by his personal definition of oversharing, at least), the easier it seems to get to overshare. What a luxury it is to just talk to someone without obsessing over reputation and ramification and ulterior motive.]

He saved my life. I was at the most wretched I'd ever been, and he believed in me when no one else did, including myself. One doesn't get much more of a moment than that.