Maybe, somewhere dark and deep and cynical, somewhere in a little corner of his mind he never listens to, he knows that this isn't a good idea. His sirens should be going off; Phoenix liked to think he had pretty good intuition, especially as of late. Hadn't he made it his policy to only defend innocent clients? He needed that, that gut feeling that would tell him if he could trust someone or not.

But that little part of him was quiet. Subdued. He couldn't rely on that to help him now, not when his turmoil of feelings had taken him up in full sway.

His grip loosens, only enough to let him raise his head and take a small step back. He knows he's blushing, and he selfconsiously looks away, a bit of a smile -- a sardonic grin, almost -- quirks the sides of his mouth and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, it will."

It'll be alright.

Phoenix knew that. He would make it alright, one way or another. He wouldn't let this pain hurt anyone else.