[ This is Nash. He has a pleasant but lazy expression. ]

I don't like to live in the past. It makes me feel old. But when a thought eats at you, sometimes the only thing you can do is take a bite, right?

Anyway, a few weeks ago something the Initiative did put people in their wrong bodies. I don't mean to drudge up bad memories, but— think about it. What are we, really? Hands, feet, fingers, eyes?

We've all got bodies, but souls? [ He shakes his head. ] Not for me to say.

But if the Initiative can keep our fingers and toes and move the rest around, it means there has to be something else, right? And whatever that something else is, the Initiative can mess with it it.

[ The implications are spooky, so he takes a moment to be spooked. And then waves that all away, shrugging. ]

You ever stop to think, and not know how to start up again?

Has there ever been a case where someone who has disappeared from Exsilium came back?

[ Brows furrowed, it might be too much to hope for that. ]

Nevertheless, if you have any unfinished business with Miles Edgeworth, you will now report directly to me.

[ Her voice was strained, trying hard to subdue her anger. She ends the feed there before her feelings get the best of her. People familiar with the police force's office set-up might be able to tell that Franziska took over Edgeworth's desk. ]

[ Squeak squeak squeak squeaksqueak squeak squeeeeeeak. ]

People just love having pets, don't they~? ♥

[ Xerxes Break is in the marketplace, broadcasting as he walks along. The picture is wobbling up and down with each step. People who tend towards motion sickness might wish to look away. ]

Unconditional adoration from a constant companion--

WHO DOESN'T CARE HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE!

[ This last outburst seems to have come from the blonde, blue-skinned, horribly-grinning doll on Break's shoulder. He chides her, waggling his finger: ]

Now, now Emily. One mustn't blurt out the truth like that, people don't like it. As I was saying, a pet is a maaaaaaarvelous thing, isn't it? Always with you, underfoot, getting in your way, knocking against your shins, and being utterly and completely...

[ Squeak squeak squeak squeak. ]

--ah, haha! Well anyway, it's worth it, all that bother, in exchange for the warm feelings you get, right? Alas, alack and well-a-day, I have no time for such things, so I thought perhaps I'd offer my pet up for adoption.

[ Now the camera angle tilts, to show off Break's "pet": it's a little red wagon, following him through the marketplace, moving entirely on its own accord. One of its wheels has a high-pitched, persistent, eardrum-drilling… squeak. ]

I can't give him away for free, of course, but I'm willing to entertain all reasonable offers. I simply want to see him in a gooooood home, that is to say--

[ SQUEAK! ]

--not mine!