infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[So glad that present will forever stay between Freddie and him, dead or alive.]

Don't get me started. There aren't harsh enough laws in place for those douchebags.

[He's just happy to help where he can...when that help doesn't work against him.]

You're welcome. [Totally not something that can be promised, no, but she sounds tired, and bringing this up at all probably took a mental bracing on her part. People make promises they can't keep all the time, and it's better to be in a hospital than some of the more terrifying alternatives. No need for him to go splitting hairs, all that considered. Will's going for agreeable, trying for a compromise they can both consider good enough, and she might pick on sounds of him moving about the room, too. He's got calls to make after this, things to research, legal guardianship processes to read up on and maintain as soon as possible. That dog ain't taking a nap in the sun no more.] You just call me whenever you need me, how's that?

[Baltimore-specific.]

Not quite as common as it should be. [Instead of sounding bitter about this topic, his attempted neutrality is laced with gloom. Miles might be able to imagine the frown accompanying it—Will and frowning aren't strangers at all.] They're usually highly encouraged to get psychiatric care. I was, when I wouldn't go on my own and needed to.

[He is not going to use a word like "forced" when he's drawing on his situation with Hannibal Lecter. Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom did not, in any way, know who and what they were dealing with when it all started, and Will's not keen on throwing blame off Hannibal. He is singularly at fault, just like Will told him, standing in that dunking booth of a cage. Jack and Alana aren't here, no, but the protective bloodhound that last saw them both...

...old habits die hard, worlds away.]

Wait, you saw a shri-

[Oof, bad choice of words. He clears his throat, composing himself]

...a psychiatrist?

That makes three of us who got the same set of calls.

[The mysterious third, who shall remain unnamed, as shall her reactions to said calls.]

Is your offer to sign me off as healthy if I require the documentation still available?

[Will's reaction to the news is probably crystal clear with that, though.]

[It's okay, this is a safe space. In the way that Will doesn't give a shit if improper terminology is used. It's okay to be accidentally rude with him.]

Saw two, actually. [He's amused, not offended. If Miles ever gets a fuller (badum tish) story about it all, the darker tone to his amusement will make much better sense.] For about six months altogether, back in Baltimore.

And did you have a choice, or...?

[A choice in shrinks, or a choice in general?]

[Ugh. He remembers how this conversation went last time. He wasn't really enthused about it then, he's not looking forward to it now.]

I did with one. [Sort of.] The other was an administrator at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Didn't have as much choice there.

[He could check out no time he liked and he could never leave without being shackled to hell and back.]

Edited (missing words, more coffee) 2015-03-08 21:46 (UTC)

Wait, what?!

[The criminally insane?! That...that doesn't make sense. He and Will don't always (or ever) get along, but he's...he's not a criminal. And he's not crazy, either.]

[andherewego.gif]

I was framed [There is absolutely no uncertainty in Will's tone on that one. This isn't a case of someone being found with their hand in the bloody cookie jar and trying to make light of it, this is irrefutable fact.] for multiple murders and incarcerated. When more evidence came to light and proved that the real killer was not behind bars, I was released.

[It's super simple, okay.]

[Edgeworth's head is swimming, still dazed by the information, unable to take it all in. This is... none of this can be right. He breathes in, trying to center himself]

Define-

[The word comes out weak and shaky, the kind of pathetic tone that Edgeworth hates. So he stops himself, and when he starts over, his voice is stronger, louder, more firm and in control.]

Define more evidence.

[He has an awful, sickening feeling about what that could mean... both for Will's home, and possibly his own.]

I asked Billy Kaplan to locate her. He could not. I was hoping that she had returned back to life.

[There was more he had typed, then deleted: I was afraid that / This feels like retribution / What had she done?]

Why? Why do you need that now?

[Surrounded by magical Wills.]

You weren't alone in that hope. How am I supposed to track down whoever did this to her when I'm just some schmuck who owns a bait shop, Frederick?

[How is he supposed to track the next one that comes after Baltimore if he doesn't step up now?]

So you want a career change? You need my permission for a career change.

Not exactly. I've already started the process. I need to know whether or not I can rely on you [to rubber stamp me] if I ever have to have a psych eval.

I'll keep my word, Will. We both know I'm not in a position to go back on that.

[You can break your word to me, Frederick, I'm not him he thinks. Wants to type. Fingers just won't do it.]

Thank you. How are you doing now that it's just the three of us?

[He can't do what he did on Miles' post to the Network, but damned if he doesn't think about it.]

They found a body [Simplify it as much as possible, easier that way.] that had been strung up with fish hooks. Flies tied by hand, like the ones I've always made. Human remains had been woven into the hooks. DNA matched them to same the people I was incarcerated for, as well as others who had been murdered while I was in a cell. [The plot thickens. Like blood pudding! And despite Will's intimate involvement with it all, he has a handy knack for giving out these details like he's reading from a text book. His voice is even, steady, letting out known fact once again. None of this is private information back in Baltimore, after all.] All charges were dropped within a day of the results.

[Then he went back to work.

And back to therapy. But. Shh.]

It really is too surreal. I didn't have time to confirm her identity before the body disappeared, but it really could not be anyone else. And given that she isn't present in this dimension any longer.

Who was the third contacted? Surely not Abigail?

[Aha...oh, he's already feeling the sting of not being his own boss. He can't come and go as he pleases, what a world this is.]

Hi, Winry. [Quiet and slow, the harbinger of having to decline but searching for the right words.] It's not too much to ask, but. [The cringe? Is audible.] I've got a lot of business to take care of, I don't know when I'll be...available.

Abigail, yes. [The lab tech just thought he had a bad day. Then he upset Abigail twice. Not paid enough at all.] Do you think one of us should go to her house and get her things before anyone tries to abscond with them?

[By which he's really asking "you want anything of hers?"]

Oh?

[A little disappointed, but, business is business.]

All right. I understand!

I hope we can meet up soon.

I'll be sure to do that if I need to.

Thank you again. I really mean it.

You're really committed to this, aren't you? Packing up all that's yours, asserting a new career.

What am I to do?

[All alone in Heropa.]

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