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[puppydogeyes]

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TYKE

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[doggedly]

really


what design & for what

[puppydogeyes]

[There's a minute or so pause, wondering if this is the best way to do this, how he's going to react. In the end, she just sends it.]

For me.
I need one for Edgeworth.

[doggedly]

[Oh, he thinks, again. There's a minute's pause from his end as well.]

you heard my design was black squares & thought 'oh thats the fellow i want to design my next tattoo!'

[Sarcasm is easier, for now.]

[puppydogeyes]

You don't need to design it.
I'll find an artist.

[If there's one on board. She doesn't know, but percentage wise, there has to be one.]

You're the only other person that's going to know what fits.

[For Edgeworth. To represent him.]

[doggedly]

[That delays his response still longer, but eventually:]

all right

[Because sarcasm had seemed easier, but wasn't, as it turns out. It's been months, now--but it still feels raw, in a way he tries never to consider or think too hard on. Like a cut on the inside of your mouth that you keep bumping against. Fine, until you forget, and bump it again.]

[puppydogeyes]

Thanks.

[Because there's nothing else to say to that, is there? He's agreed, but she doesn't expect him to work on it now. Later. After she's done these tattoos, maybe.]