He thinks of me as some… Violent criminal that is bound to become a repeat offender. Doesn’t really matter to him that I was never guilty to begin with, I suppose.

Maybe. But my parole officer is very cross with me.

He didn’t keep his hands to himself.

They can still rot, the whole lot of them. If they expect any kind of gratitude, they're barking up the wrong tree.

It's honestly still kind of a miracle I ever left it. Some prosecutor with a bad conscience pulled some strings, apparently.

Tell me about it. My parole officer's approach was 'don't do anything criminal again'. Which is such great advice.

She crossed her arms, staring him down. The similarities with her younger brother always came through more like this. "So you’re a prosecutor."

She raised her eyebrow a bit. "Hi, Miles Edgeworth. I‘m still not sure who you are. How do you know me?"

"Right, thanks. Who are you again?"

// Find info about all my AARP muses here!