What: Not exactly a dinner date...
Where: Random made up restaurant in LA
When: Late evening
Warnings: Self-righteous lawyer who doesn't know when to quit +
By the time Edgeworth was coming to the end of his dinner, Bel Cibo had mostly emptied. Not that it had been that crowded to begin with; the restaurant was a true hole-in-the-wall, an authentic little family-owned secret far from the trendier, more popular places he usually favored. This was one of the places he went when several long, hard work days (or weeks) in a row drove him away from most human contact and into the warm embrace of his favorite comfort foods and the polite but distant company of an expert waiter.
A bell jingled softly in the quiet restaurant, heralding the arrival of what would probably be some of the last patrons of the evening. Edgeworth sliced off another bite of his veal and took a few moments to savor it before finally glancing at the door. But the mildest of interest turned suddenly to a sharp glare as he saw the men standing in the door, framed by its leaded glass window. He had only met the one in person, but he knew all too well who both men were.