—! [Everything seems so confusing right now. Why does Edgeworth have this sudden need to judge him? Toby isn't trying to be special or saying his mistakes are better or worse than anyone else's. All he'd tried to do is explain what had affected him at the time of his arrival, and that he's like any other person who'd ever made a mistake before—that's everyone. Yet, Edgeworth has written these things off as excuses, the irony being they were inexcusable and invalid. Toby would apologize if there seemed a point to it, but the last time he'd done so, it was poorly received. An apology here and now is unlikely to do any good.
If his mind weren't swimming, he might have something to say about the disaster of his (un)life... The way things are now, he's at a loss for words.]
...I cannot and will not deny the severity of the mistakes I've made, the misconceptions I've had, the various ways I've wrongly gone about life here and my attempts to make up for the things I've done. [A beat; he swallows, and the taste is as though something had died in his mouth. With another gulp, he barely manages to suppress what feels like the need to vomit, which he hasn't experienced in quite a long time.
But to say anything of his worsening condition is to invent yet another excuse and run from confrontation, so he won't. If he were thinking more clearly, he might ask what justice Edgeworth intends to pursue given these pointed questions and immediate judgment.
Instead, he tries to collect his thoughts and whatever broken pieces of himself remain. Ignoring how incredibly awful everything is both inside and out, he somehow manages to calmly ask,] Have you any other questions?
no subject
If his mind weren't swimming, he might have something to say about the disaster of his (un)life... The way things are now, he's at a loss for words.]
...I cannot and will not deny the severity of the mistakes I've made, the misconceptions I've had, the various ways I've wrongly gone about life here and my attempts to make up for the things I've done. [A beat; he swallows, and the taste is as though something had died in his mouth. With another gulp, he barely manages to suppress what feels like the need to vomit, which he hasn't experienced in quite a long time.
But to say anything of his worsening condition is to invent yet another excuse and run from confrontation, so he won't. If he were thinking more clearly, he might ask what justice Edgeworth intends to pursue given these pointed questions and immediate judgment.
Instead, he tries to collect his thoughts and whatever broken pieces of himself remain. Ignoring how incredibly awful everything is both inside and out, he somehow manages to calmly ask,] Have you any other questions?