Edgeworth leant against the supermarket's cashier's untidy counter, his elbows wandering amidst the various piles of unidentifiable, trashy, sweets and cheap chewing gum, with a sternness dancing in his eyes - bored out of his mind. The prosecutor was certain that he would rather be anywhere else other than waiting in the cramped space between each workers' desk, impatiently forced to stand there for, seemingly, hours until the cashier finally decided to show up again and scan his shopping before fiddling around with their money-holder for the best of ten minutes, all whilst his drugged boyfriend was waiting for him at home, finding it almost impossible to trust him due to an unexpected text, and the crowd behind him were tutting at him behind his back.

Edgeworth despised fitting into other people's timetables and adapting to their ideas. Edgeworth liked control.

This was not ideal.

So, when the tardily dressed cashier eventually arrived, clumsily stepping between the plastic gap for her desk and smoothing out her dismally short, grey, lined skirt as she fell into her well-padded seat with its small creak as it struggled to accommodate her weight, Edgeworth found himself giving her a stern glare;
"What took you so long," The prosecutor's stern words weren't formulating a question - they were formulating a demand.
"I had sum't to do," The silvery-haired man felt himself cringing at the Bristolian imitation of the English language, feeling that same old, irritant, fury flaring up inside him as the crude abbreviations reached his ears.
"Right. Well, I have 'sum't to do' too, so if you'd please just bag up Phoenix an-" Edgeworth widened his eyes in horror, his pupils dilating, as he realised what he'd just said. Blood rushed to his head, and any pride he'd previously attained seemed to have been corrupted - diluted by the roaring fires of humility.
"Wot?"
"I meant... I need to check out my fo-Phee-"

Oh, he'd really done it now.

Edgeworth clamped his hands over his mouth, daring to glance at the queue on his left and feeling his fists clench in frustration as he noted how fed up they looked, his gaze faltering as he noticed ten more angry glares staring straight back at him. The perfect prosecutor - unable to contain himself in front of others? It was unheard of. This couldn't be right! After all, Edgeworth was certain that he hadn't stated his boyfriend's name in the first place - let alone the second time!
"Um... You wanna check out'a 'Phee'?" The prosecutor paled.
"Oh, wait'a sec! You're tha' prosecuta dude, ain'tcha? I knew tha' Phee ran'a bell'a sumthink... Ain't'e tha' atturny? Ya rival'a sumthink? You wanna check 'im ou'?" She grinned, clearly revelling in the new juicy gossip she'd stumbled upon. Edgeworth clenched his jaw - he was almost certain that every single individual in the area were, by now, shamelessly listening to them, no doubt gawping at the tremendous gossip unravelling in front of them about the 'Perverted Prodigy Prosecutor' and his 'Dainty Defence Attorney''s private lives - most likely sharing it on various platforms of social media.

The prosecutor scowled at them using the very corners of his face.

"I do not."
"Riiight, suuure ya don'!"
"Keep your nose out of my private life."
"That'a be two poun' eigh'y," Edgeworth instantly slammed the money into her stubby-fingered hand and cradled the packet of tea with as much care as he could muster, briskly striding away before the woman could so much as offer him a measly plastic bag to carry it in.

As he stepped through the murky, fingerprint-laden, glass doors of the supermarket and into the dimmed light of day, the prosecutor couldn't help but think of a singular thing - which appeared to be consuming the entire capacity of his mind;
Was he really so out of control?
Could he really not hide his longing for his boyfriend in the face of others?
The prosecutor's eyesight fell upon a young woman (in her twenties) bearing thick, luscious, brown hair and a small smartphone plastered to her ear, casually rolling a metal shopping trolley along the rough concrete ground, before he looked away again.

Phoenix meant too much to lose.