The Manny Named Miles

❥ chapter three: dysfunctional family ties

"Guh— I dunno, it just doesn't sound right! Miles is like... like my other daddy now! Two daddies!"

"Oh my god," Phoenix whispered, sounding horrified, before Miles could respond to Trucy's very serious assertion. "GUH. ...She's picking up on your noises."

"What noises?" Miles snapped. He ignored Trucy's stifled laugh. "I don't make any noises!"

"There's no way you're not aware of it— y'know, your, your—" Phoenix gestured with his arms and fumbled for an apt description.

"My what?"

"Your Edgeworth noises!"

Miles scoffed indignantly. Trucy couldn't hold in her giggling fit any longer.

"And what, exactly, are Edgeworth noises?!"

"Nghoooooooh!" Trucy screeched at the top of her lungs before howling with laughter. Miles could only stare open-mouthed as Phoenix made a similarly strange noise— something closer to "mmmngh!"

"That is not— I have never made such a sound in my life!"

Trucy and Phoenix paid him no mind and continued doing their best impressions. Miles heard heels on the stairwell.

"Is this... some sort of bizarre American morning ritual that I've yet to encounter?" Franziska's voice asked. Phoenix hardly knew her, and yet he could imagine her sneer without seeing it.

"No, it isn't," Miles retorted. "...Fran, do I make noises?"

"Noises?" Franziska, standing before the coffee maker that she had already well acquainted herself with, repeated the word. Like she was re-familiarizing herself with English as well as her surroundings. "Oh, noises— you do. Lots of them, actually."

Miles covered his face with his hands as Phoenix clicked his tongue in a wordless "I told you so". Trucy already had devious intentions in mind. She approached the woman and faced her with a broad smile.

"What kinds of noises?!"

Franziska blinked at her, blank-faced, before shrugging her shoulders and offering a weak and warbled "hnnngh?"

"I'm quitting," Miles muttered as Phoenix doubled over. "I'm running away from home—"

"Oh, come on, you say that three times a week," Phoenix managed through the last of his laughter. When he straightened himself out and stood up, he noticed that Franziska was somewhat dolled up. She'd pulled her hair into a romantic-looking updo, and she was wearing expensive earrings and lipstick. "Someone's looking fancy! Are you seeing someone special—"

"I informed you already that I have business to attend to, did I not? My manner of business is no business of yours, fool!"

"...Right. I didn't mean to pry."

Franziska huffed and adjusted her tailored jacket as she waited for the water to boil. Her clothing, today, was more modern-looking than it usually was. Some kind of work meeting, maybe? At the same time, though, she looked as if she was dressed for a date.

"I can never get proper tea here," she grumbled, at no one in particular.

"Oh, that? I've found some tolerable suppliers. I did have to do some digging around, though," Miles agreed. "You certainly won't find it at any grocery chain."

"Which reminds me," Franziska said, "you should check the paper bag that I left for you on the coffee table. I got you proper candied oranges and marzipan, and some jams, among other things."