The situation seemed to be rapidly deteriorating. He couldn't decide which was worse: the sick rush of fear he felt as Luciano did his best to bruise his delicate throat or what the man was proposing. It was beginning to look like the prosecutor may have to choose between death and dishonor, and for him the choice was not nearly as easy as one might think.
The boy's posturing didn't escape Edgeworth's notice either. He may not have consciously recognized the nature of their dynamic, but some part of his mind was aware of the push of the boy's presence, shifting back and forth like a young, shaggy-maned lion stuck on the wrong side of a fence, staring through at his would-be prey. Instinct told him to exploit that in the hopes that pushing the boy further would draw the more experienced mobster in the other direction, towards protecting them both (and Edgeworth) from the consequences of the boy's actions.
"With the mess you're making I'd be genuinely surprised if they couldn't," he rasped. Even as he said it his mind was working furiously for ways to make dead sure it was the truth, evidence he could collect prematurely just in case worse came to worst.
no subject
The boy's posturing didn't escape Edgeworth's notice either. He may not have consciously recognized the nature of their dynamic, but some part of his mind was aware of the push of the boy's presence, shifting back and forth like a young, shaggy-maned lion stuck on the wrong side of a fence, staring through at his would-be prey. Instinct told him to exploit that in the hopes that pushing the boy further would draw the more experienced mobster in the other direction, towards protecting them both (and Edgeworth) from the consequences of the boy's actions.
"With the mess you're making I'd be genuinely surprised if they couldn't," he rasped. Even as he said it his mind was working furiously for ways to make dead sure it was the truth, evidence he could collect prematurely just in case worse came to worst.