Oktoberfest

For the life of him, Miles Edgeworth had never up to that point considered ever seriously attending the Oktoberfest in Munich. Even as a young man in the von Karma household, he had never felt much patriotism for his adopted home regions. In fact, Ema seemed to take to it more than he ever did. That last fact was solidly personified by Ema's insistence on being fitted for a proper dirndl, and Miles' stolid patience as he waited in a corner of the tailor's shop while she was being measured and adjusted.

It only got worse when she came out in the blood-orange and sable number she had chosen for herself, replete with apron and high-hemmed summer skirt. As much as he was entranced by her little show of vogues and spins, Miles insisted that the apron was tied incorrectly and unbashfully put his arms around her to correct the mistake. Ema giggled when he explained that maidens who were spoken for wore the knot on the right side, which is what his adjustments now reflected.

Even with this careful arrangement, Miles waffled on the idea of wearing an accompanying lederhosen. Thankfully, Ema was happy enough with her new dress, and was loathe to part with Miles' unique sense of style, even if only for a day at the festival. Still, in the upcoming weeks, she made every attempt to make him feel guilty about not having a matching outfit.

It was thus Miles found himself constantly adjusting the straps of his lederhosen, conscious of the particular crotch construction the teenager had picked out for him. When he wasn't looking to the safety of his genitalia, he was fiddling with his collar, feeling somewhat naked without the cloth cravat wrapped about it. These two tasks were difficult, as he had only one free arm: the other served as a sort of tether by which Ema would lead him between the tents and attractions.

Actually, a better part of their first day there was spent debating whether she would be allowed to have any of the beer. While she was of age, Edgeworth had grown accustomed to American law, and he protested against Ema's scientific curiosities. When she began spewing statistics at him, he found it a point of entertainment to slowly shift their conversations into German, and listen to her stumble over her newly-acquired vocabulary. While she had been a quick study for the language, the extra time she took to consider her speech brought a deep red color to her cheeks that could probably only be matched by the absolutely shitfaced expression she would have later on that day.

Needless to say, she wouldn't again be allowed to have beer, so long as Miles was in charge of her wellbeing—which, for both their sakes, he hoped would be a long time yet.