Edgeworth found himself passing by the door to Ruka's room, a cup of tea in hand--he'd gone through so much of it the last while that he couldn't even remember exactly how many there'd been. It wasn't as though he'd had much of anything but, after all, only occasionally remembering to have food of his own.
Rua, of course, had been provided with full meals--Edgeworth's own lack of appetite did not require the boy to go without; nor did he expect the child to express his emotions in anywhere near the same fashion. If the boy wanted and needed, he would be provided for, and that was all there was to it as far as Edgeworth was concerned. That was the duty of one taking on the role of father, biologically responsible or not, and it was one he'd solemnly sworn to bear as firmly as his oath as a prosecutor.
Failing once to keep his promise was intolerable.
Failing twice would be flat-out unacceptable.
Perhaps he'd given off a load of mixed signals in the process of trying to keep up with those duties after her disappearance. Such a problem was not impossible. He had never been the best at expressing himself; surely Rua had thought him turned into a madman at best, reading wild stories and serving extra helpings of dessert one moment and then locking himself in his study for hours upon silent hours the next to endlessly and pointlessly review material that a Porter-perfect memory had already permanently seared into his mind. Perhaps he could explain... but a hidden fear of losing both kept him quiet on the subject. The children were not truly his. The option to leave had always been theirs. That Rua might exercise it, if he thought that neither he nor Lupin could keep the boy safe...
The main problem Edgeworth had had with himself, of course, was that he was still acting in such a bizarre way even after the girl had returned. Shocked, first, and then pleased, only to come running back up from behind with a massive dose of arms-length distance. Just enough to show basic care; never more than that. Never enough to imply any kind of emotional attachment to either child beyond the effort involved in raising two human beings their age. No statements of love. No reassuring gestures of affection. No nicknames. Merely a guardian keeping watch, and not... not a 'papa'. To either of them.
Yes. His own behavior did indeed serve only to frustrate him, and he did not know why.
Edgeworth pressed an ear up against the wood of the door, checking in on the girl, and frowned.
One single set of three knocks on her door later, quiet and calm, asking for permission instead of declaring any actual intent of barging in shortly thereafter, and the grey-haired man stood waiting for an answer.
no subject
Rua, of course, had been provided with full meals--Edgeworth's own lack of appetite did not require the boy to go without; nor did he expect the child to express his emotions in anywhere near the same fashion. If the boy wanted and needed, he would be provided for, and that was all there was to it as far as Edgeworth was concerned. That was the duty of one taking on the role of father, biologically responsible or not, and it was one he'd solemnly sworn to bear as firmly as his oath as a prosecutor.
Failing once to keep his promise was intolerable.
Failing twice would be flat-out unacceptable.
Perhaps he'd given off a load of mixed signals in the process of trying to keep up with those duties after her disappearance. Such a problem was not impossible. He had never been the best at expressing himself; surely Rua had thought him turned into a madman at best, reading wild stories and serving extra helpings of dessert one moment and then locking himself in his study for hours upon silent hours the next to endlessly and pointlessly review material that a Porter-perfect memory had already permanently seared into his mind. Perhaps he could explain... but a hidden fear of losing both kept him quiet on the subject. The children were not truly his. The option to leave had always been theirs. That Rua might exercise it, if he thought that neither he nor Lupin could keep the boy safe...
The main problem Edgeworth had had with himself, of course, was that he was still acting in such a bizarre way even after the girl had returned. Shocked, first, and then pleased, only to come running back up from behind with a massive dose of arms-length distance. Just enough to show basic care; never more than that. Never enough to imply any kind of emotional attachment to either child beyond the effort involved in raising two human beings their age. No statements of love. No reassuring gestures of affection. No nicknames. Merely a guardian keeping watch, and not... not a 'papa'. To either of them.
Yes. His own behavior did indeed serve only to frustrate him, and he did not know why.
Edgeworth pressed an ear up against the wood of the door, checking in on the girl, and frowned.
One single set of three knocks on her door later, quiet and calm, asking for permission instead of declaring any actual intent of barging in shortly thereafter, and the grey-haired man stood waiting for an answer.