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And what took you so long to find him?

[Edgeworth does not yell. Yelling would attract too much attention, and right now, he still values discretion. But his voice is heated, and he practically hisses the words out, only barely keeping his temper in check]

I could barely take three steps in this wretched place without stumbling across someone from home. So what was your excuse, hmn? Dorian Gray isn't exactly subtle, and he certainly didn't go into hiding when you arrived here. Did you pay any attention to the world around you? Or were you too busy wallowing in self pity to give a damn?!

[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.]

[He stares him in the eye, his expression cold and unforgiving. A few months ago, Toby's incompetence would have been understandable. Endearing, even. But now that he has blood on his hands, it's suddenly not so cute anymore]

In this world, I have seen knights. Sorcerers. Men and women from every era of history imaginable, and people from worlds more strange and fantastic than this one.

[The heat is gone from his voice, now replaced with pure cold]

And yet they still managed to bungle their way through the network in a week or two. Maybe not all of them, but enough of them to count. And you really expect me to believe that it took you an entire month to learn the ropes?

[His stomach turns as Toby feels control slipping away from him. Normally, he still would be calm and collected, but right now, he is too ill to pretend to be anything but frustrated and sick. Moreover, Edgeworth seems... impatient? pushy? At any rate, Toby's starting to think his responses are coming far too slowly—how is he even to begin explaining things, especially in his current condition?]

How many of them had just returned to life before arriving here? Do you even know how disorienting it is to deal with that, only to experience a change of scenery? [How many of them were nearly three hundred years old? Toby may look young enough, but there's a learning curve for people out of place and time. Lucifer might be older, but he's also the devil, and it's only natural for such a being to take on recent trends and keep with the times to do his work. Toby may not know how old Marceline actually is, but she seems to also have kept up.

Still, Toby is too ill to protest anymore.] But if you want to hold that against me? Fine, so be it; I didn't try hard enough, obviously. No one is perfect, and I made more mistakes than I can count, perhaps more than should really be allowed, when I arrived here.

[If Toby could only collect his thoughts and sort his own emotions from Drew's, then maybe he'd attempt to connect on that point because surely Edgeworth has made mistakes. Maybe he's made some that were also judged far too harshly at some point, too. But Toby can't do anything of the sort, he's not even in a good enough state to answer in thorough detail. No, he just wants to say whatever Edgeworth wants to hear, hoping the torment in his mind and body soon will end.]

[The more that Toby tries to appease Edgeworth, the more he winds him up. For all of his apologies, for all of his humility, Edgeworth has yet to see any acknowledgement of the pain or the inconvenience he's caused to those around him. His scowl deepens, and he breathes harshly as Toby tries to deflect his fury]

Dead men are a dime a dozen in this place. You are not unique in this regard, Toby, no matter what you may think. And while no one is perfect, I can think of few people who have made mistakes as disastrous as yours.

—! [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?

[He continues to stare at Toby, cold and imperious, saying nothing as he speaks. The admittance of guilt does nothing to quench his thirst, but at least he has the decency not to beg for pity. He remains silent for a moment longer before he shakes his head and stands up.]

None at all.

[And unless Toby stops him, he'll turn on his heel and walk out the door]

[Toby feels completely stunned. He doesn't know what happened, he doesn't know why Edgeworth seems so completely changed. Everything seemed to have transpired so suddenly, and now Edgeworth is walking out on him without so much as a comment or explanation. It was Edgeworth who wanted to pursue justice and mine for the truth; the least he could do now is tell Toby what all this is about.

Oh, he wants to stop Edgeworth from leaving, wants to demand to know what Edgeworth intends to do given all that information. But his mind is overwhelmed and defeated by the effects of the bond and the confusion of their exchange. So instead, he simply watches as Edgeworth's back soon disappears from sight.]

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