My friends and I have been playing Ace Attorney recently, and it’s made me think about my personal head canon for Phoenix drinking grape juice during the 7 year gap.
There are a lot of great takes on this detail, but mine is that the grape juice bottles he drinks from are, well, bottles. Bottles with sealed the industry standard tamper proof lids. Which isn’t unique to grape juice by any means, but I do find the fact Phoenix takes to drinking from beverages that are made to showcase evidence of tampering during a seven year stand-off against a known poisoner.
Especially given his history with poisoners in general.
Personally, I account some of the grape juice habit to those tamper seals. Not because they work, per say, but because Phoenix has such a traumatic history around poison, and that level of paranoia could lead to wanting reassurance that you’re not about to join the “Atroquinine poisoned party.”
We don’t really see Phoenix really deal with any aftereffects of all the traumatic shit he went through, so this is my little HC to how that impacts him now that is also canon compliant. Sure, it’s not the real reason (just a joke) and it’s looking too much into things, but isn’t that what headcanons are for?
TLDR: Part of the reason Phoenix drinks grape juice is because the tamper proof lids give him some security about being poisoned due to his trauma with poison.
Miles Edgeworth does not ride on elevators. It is perhaps this reason that he is the first to notice that Phoenix Wight does not drink from pre-opened containers.
It is something he notices after the man is disbarred, when he forces him and his daughter to let him buy them dinner. The restaurants Edgeworth chooses aren’t too fancy for Wright to object to price, but they are nice enough to have attentive waiters. It is during these meals, Edgeworth noticed that Wright never drinks from the glasses of water provided. Instead, he asks if they have bottled grape juice instead. Or soda in a can. Or a bottle of water.
“I just don’t like drinking from the tap,” Wright says when Miles chides him about wasting plastic. “Bottled tastes better.”
Edgeworth is not a living lie detector. He has no magic rock to expose secrets or a keen eye for tells. But he knows Wright. And Wright has never turned down a glass of tap water at Edgeworth’s house during his trips to Europe.
He doesn’t press the issue. He does, however, take notice when Phoenix orders a soda and doesn’t take a single sip when the waiter brings it back in a glass. When Wright pours out a half drunken grape juice bottle he left unattended at work to use the bathroom instead of finishing it off, Edgeworth notices that too. The water bottle Wright used to carry around on his bike is absent these days as well.
Edgeworth can connect dots. It is his job. Wright will not drink from anything that could have been tampered with. Given his history and the devil currently stalking him in the shadows, perhaps his paranoia is somewhat warranted.
He thinks what to do about it for a few days. Edgeworth thinks back to years of Wright taking the stairs with him instead of the elevator, telling anyone who asked that “he skipped leg day and I’m forcing the Prosecution to join me.” That unspoken acceptance of “this scares you, so I won’t make fun.”
After thinking about it, he takes the Wright family out for dinner. When Wright orders a soda and receives an open fountain drink, Edgeworth takes it instead and asks the Waiter if they have any canned soda for him because “it tastes better.” The waiter looks at him annoyed, which Edgeworth understands, but does it anyway. Edgeworth makes a mental note to add an higher tip and a thank you in exchange for their trouble.
Wright stares at him from the time he orders the can until he places it on Wright’s side of the table. He has that same expression he used to have in court when Edgeworth caught him off guard. Edgeworth missed it.
“Edgeworth-“ Wright says, voice thick. Struggling for words. Little does he know, Edgeworth doesn’t need them. He shakes his head.
“It’s no bother,” Edgeworth says, looking to Trucy who is twelve and about to outgrow her pink cape. “You said you have learned a new trick, Ms. Wright? Please tell me more, I must keep informed about slights of hand criminals may try to pull in the Courtroom.”
Trucy giggles. “It’s not slight of hand, it’s magic!”
Wright watches them talk, shoulders relaxed, as he opens his sealed can of soda.