[The rising anger in Edgeworth's voice resonates with the crazed screaming in Toby's mind; he tastes something wretched in his mouth, sickness rising from his stomach. Feelings that, again, he hasn't had in ages, having only tasted things with blood and alcohol since having changed over two hundred fifty years ago.

He tries to remember what things were like when he'd first arrived, and it seems so hard to do so now. Things seem so different, so sorted out by now.]

I'm sorry, what? Where did you get that idea? I'd barely been returned to life a few days in my own world and had been trying to acclimatize, when suddenly I was here. I... To me, the devices were simply tiny phones, the sort I'd barely even seen, let alone attempted to actually use upon my arrival. I barely knew to use anything—the network and the Internet, texting and phoning and... voice messages? And after what had happened back home, there's no way I could've even dreamed that Dorian was even here.

[That last part causes a sting of pain in Toby's heart, but he makes himself let it go because there's already so much hurt and pain, sickness and putrid-tasting disgust, and there's no point reliving his heartbreak while Edgeworth accuses him of not even trying, back then.]