Edgeworth fractionally puffed out his chest. "Miles Edgeworth, prosecutor at law. And I want nothing from you. Does it look like I'm holding us here? Am I waving a gun in your face yelling 'put 'em up! Hands in the air!' Please, I'm a lawyer not a heathen. What I want is to get out, I have a murder trial today and I'm not walking in under prepared! " His shook his head, his grey fringe waving about. "Yes, I believe we are trapped. So no race winning. And no punching, unless you want to get us all dead. Do you want yourself dead? No, you want that money, don't you?" A small smile crept up the side of his face. [@anonzep]