[It makes him ache, watching the struggle play out on the boy's angelic face, and the inevitable, too quick return to something resembling normalcy. People are not always allowed the luxury of time for their grief, particularly when there are already too many demands placed on that time. Yet another injustice that disproportionately affects the young. He will respect his companion's cue, though that protective streak he's not fully conscious of will linger between them, a constant, low-level thrum of warmth and care for the boy to take from if needed.]

Indeed. Though...there were times I doubted I was capable of it. [Edgeworth lowers his gaze and allows the hint of a smile to creep across his face, a private reflection of a new, familiar sensation budding in his chest. This one is powerful and uncomplicated. It blooms intensely, though his posture never changes and his smile is brief. An observer might never guess the depths of it, but for one who can read hearts, the emotion should be unmistakable--love.] Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is how to accept support. Sometimes...it takes the right teacher.