THE ONE WHERE BEACHES ARE FOREIGN IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE

[logically]

The last stop in the family's vacation is a resort on the North Sea in Germany; soon, they will all return to the States, and life will go back to normal. The thought brings relief, but Edgeworth is still yet to process it. Perhaps some time at the beach will help? He doubts it. Even though he's still wearing his shoes, he swears he can feel the sand between his toes. God, when was the last time he'd been to the beach?

Still, at least Gregoria seems to be enjoying herself. That's as much as he can hope for. Some days, he is still overwhelmed by the surge of affection he feels when he looks at his daughter (his daughter). Already dressed in her swimsuit and a sun hat, she runs ahead of her mother before pulling up in front of Edgeworth and performing a polite little bow.

"Dad? Please help me build a sandcastle."

The look Edgeworth throws over Gregoria's head can only be described as stricken panic.

Integra, dear, darling...

... save him?

Comments

[logically]

There's some sort of whole level to the interaction that Edgeworth feels he's missed, but he does his best to placate both parties nonetheless. Turning to Integra, he murmurs, "We'll add the drawbridge later." The exile is, at least, not permanent. His attention is drawn back to Gregoria as she begins to shovel with gusto.

It's going to be a very deep moat.

Gregoria is tenderheaded, methinks... :|a

[uisce]

Integra slides her hand atop Edgeworth's, smiling sweetly to him before peering downward at her daughter.

"Gregoria, I don't believe the defender of your kingdom would like it very much if we were warring against one another-- and frankly, I wouldn't like it either."

She spoke in the same, hushed, cooing tone she normally would to read bedtime stories or settle her down during a storm. This, too, she felt applied here.

"Would you have preferred I had to wash and comb the sand from your hair later?"

Somehow, Integra doubts that's the case.

just a lil

[logically]

Not expecting the contact, Edgeworth tenses up slightly before forcing himself to relax. Gregoria pauses in her fervent shovelling to look up at her mother, regarding her coolly through her bangs. "You pulled," she accuses, "worse than Dad."

Edgeworth winces.

[uisce]

Struggling to keep her sense of humour, Integra lets out a long, exasperated sigh. Let it be known you shouldn't try to reason with a three year old, yet she still persisted.

"Forgive me, darling," she apologizes in earnest, "I'm afraid your scalp is more sensitive than most. I'll try not to make the braids as tight next time. Would it help if I rubbed your head?"

It's hard to let Edgeworth go unacknowledged, knowing how much effort he put into merely learning how to manage his daughter's hair, but for now she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, as if meaning to say more later.

[logically]

Gregoria seems to consider the offer, before inclining her head towards her mother's hand. It seems that somebody knows what she wants.

Edgeworth, unfortunately, can't let the slight go unaddressed, even if the one doing the slighting is his three-year-old daughter.

"I don't pull," he mutters.

[uisce]

That... certainly was the man she married just now. Integra has just barely pulled Gregoria into her arms before she cocks her head to face him, casting Edgeworth a glare that could very well snap mere mortals in two.

No, she is not about to mediate an impending war between her husband and their only child. For now, she had to focus on diverting Gregoria's attention, which she attempts by running her hands atop her head into a gentle massage.

"Does this help at all, darling?"