Gemini
Bazinga.
Excerpt from Metro News, 20 April:
Six months later. . .
Gloriosa; Heroes Rise
- Thread starter Gemini
- Start date
Riddle78
Four Thousand Club
Julius was sitting at a table in a bistro's outdoors dining area,examining a menu. He was well aware of the eyes that were practically bolted to him. It was half a year ago,and people were still making a big deal of it. So what,a bus driver lost control. So what the bus ended up in a lake. Yes people died,but Julius was used to seeing people die in the water;fishing in the North Atlantic is one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. He was desensitized to it,and with pop-culture the way it was,he was certain innumerable others were,as well. Besides,European drivers are crazy. Julius couldn't help but chuckle. I guess that's where the Quebeckers get it...
Seeing that he was on the seafood platters section,Julius visibly cringed,and swiftly flipped the page to the butcher's choice portion of the menu. When the waiter approached,a young man with fiery hair and freckles,probably in his fourth year of high school,Julius replied almost immediately, "French Onion Soup for an appetizer,please. Baguette crouton,extra cheese." The young man said nothing for a moment,probably tacken aback by how suddenly the order was placed,but after the pause,he asked, "And to drink,sir?" Julius shrugged,and said, "Coke,no ice." The waiter nodded,and left Julius to pursue the menu once more for hius main meal.
Seeing that he was on the seafood platters section,Julius visibly cringed,and swiftly flipped the page to the butcher's choice portion of the menu. When the waiter approached,a young man with fiery hair and freckles,probably in his fourth year of high school,Julius replied almost immediately, "French Onion Soup for an appetizer,please. Baguette crouton,extra cheese." The young man said nothing for a moment,probably tacken aback by how suddenly the order was placed,but after the pause,he asked, "And to drink,sir?" Julius shrugged,and said, "Coke,no ice." The waiter nodded,and left Julius to pursue the menu once more for hius main meal.
Kagura
Robot Sheep
Winter chill was starting to hit London, the wind becoming crisper and cooler as the trees were shedding the last of their leaves. It was a scene all too familiar for mid-October, or maybe Logan was just feeling the lack of heat more-so than anybody else. The woman was nestled in a winter coat, scarf covering her red ears, gloves on her hands and heeled boots clicking along the pavement. No one seemed to wear as much layers as she, but her overdressed nature seemed to cling to the heat she had in her condominium.
Today she was on her way to D’ampton, Chase and Howard, a law firm she had been pushed towards in internship. Even at her displeasure in the old firm, Logan was surprisingly good at soliciting and got off her training contract with high recommendations. Though, in truth, the female hated everything about the dry and menial tasks of dealing with paperwork when she’d rather spend time in the courthouse. It was when she was thinking of giving it up that she received the interview at the new firm.
Out of courtesy rather than need, she accepted the interview, as the people of Novell and Campbell (her old employers) had gotten her it. What she didn’t expect, was to receive the phone call that she would be starting on the 20th under one Mr. Garrick Rake. It was a name she knew all too well, just by the amounts of media coverage the lawyer acquired. What stuck out to her though, was the reminder of the story six months ago in the Metro News, of a bus falling into the River Thames.
Logan would remember it as she came to the bus stop, this being the first time since then that she step foot on this mode of public transportation. The glass panes around the waiting area gave her some comfort from the wind, but the anxiety of the accident made her fingers tap nervously against her thigh. It was only six months ago, she remembered it like it was yesterday; she remembered it like the day she read Kate’s suicide note.
~
It was the number 78, which Logan’s eyes barely registered as she clambers on to the slightly crowded bus. There is a slight chatter on the bus that meets her ears, the driver barely registering her stepping up and paying. Most of the spots were taken, so once the blonde was behind the yellow line, that’s where she stayed, holding on to the vertical rail near the door.
The little details such as where she was going were clouded in her mind, but she remembered that she had gotten on close to the Tower Bridge. Everything after that had gone so fast, she glanced around the back to take a view of the strangers with her. That’s when she heard the honking of horns and a strange veering in the pathway, someone had screamed.
They hit the guard rail next to the river head on though, and went through it despite not going all that fast; panic hit the bus like a virus. It was like slow motion for Logan though, how she stumbled forward and hit the panel besides the driver, feeling her stomach drop against the adrenaline. They were descending towards the water and if not for the imbalance of weight they may have not done a slight nose dive into the Thames.
As the splash of the cold water hit her through the driver’s open window, she sputtered, the driver a little lost in his own world. Logan finally took a view of the passengers, seeing a woman in a wheel chair and a young child in the bus as well. The water was quickly filling the sinking vessel, but she still instructed the driver to open the door. Once that was accomplished, Logan started moving, driven by the fact that she couldn’t watch others die in front of her.
The man who caused the crash seemed to be able to handle himself, so Logan continued on, helping those who needed it towards the wall, the most she could do. Luckily there were some floatables making there way into the water by some helpful citizens, which would help those who couldn’t swim very well get to the docks or staircases. There was also a few that were doing the same as her, trying to help as many people as they could get out of the bus that was now completely submerged in the water.
Logan did not have a death wish though, there came a time when she herself couldn’t descend to the bus’ level with her lung capacity. It was then she had to give up, despite the people that were still trapped inside the transport. As she pulled herself up onto dry land, she choked out the water she swallowed, and realized with disarray she had been separated from the group.
It was preferred that way in her mind, she simply helped them out of the bus; it didn’t really matter to her about credit or not. In the news’ story her head had even been counted as one missing, but it also included the name of a lawyer.
~
Garrick Rake.
It wasn’t like there were introductions going around on the bus, so she wasn’t sure if she had helped the man or where he was on that fateful day. It probably wasn’t all that surprising that he filed a suit against the company, who had placed the blame on the driver, but Logan sort of expected him to defend the driver though, as he was oft the one with the guilty clients.
As the bus loomed up to the stop, her heart actually made reverberations in her chest, the squeal of breaks making her fingers twitch. The girl stood though, trying her best to stay strong, a thing she was used to since high school. Eventually people would notice her for the wrong reasons, eventually she learned to ignore things that were said when she walked by. Logan needed to be strong, and her face was rather placid as she stepped onto the bus and paid.
It was the 54, which would take her most of the way there, but she still had to walk up a block and into a building that echoed corporate management. Taking a seat with a soft sigh to herself, she brushed back the fly-a-ways from her hair, and pulled up the sleeve of her coat to check the time. It was still a few stops away yet, so her blue eyes peered out the fogged windows, foot tapping anxiously against the floor.
Eventually the bus came to a halt in front of her stop and after thanking the bus driver, she hurried off the bus and towards D’ampton, Chase and Howard. Mostly so the cold didn’t attack her as much, but also because she was interested to survey the people. The adjustments she had to make to her personality to play along were often easy to pinpoint, but it didn’t hurt to get a general sense first.
Besides, she would have to find the office that Rake wanted her to meet him in before she even started working besides him. Logan entered the building, making her way to the receptionist desk, in the middle of the lobby. On the way, she settled into taking off her coat and scarf to sling them over her right arm. Underneath she wore a cream button blouse tucked into a black skirt with tights underneath, a matching suit overcoat with three-fourths of a sleeve completed her outfit. As the mantra always said, dress for success…
It took a long drawn out moment for the receptionist to take note of her and after asking the woman about the man in question Logan didn’t miss her slightly jovial face. “He hasn’t checked in yet…and I’m not quite sure where he’ll be going today. Last I saw he was in office 2-310” she notes. The blonde nods, confirming that it was indeed the number she was given before directing herself to the elevator.
The second floor proves more of a lab test then the first, and she finds herself to be like a mouse, hunting for the cheese at the end of one of the dead ends. Eventually she finds the numbers in the 300’s and when she finally finds the office, she only needs to read the plaque. It didn’t read the Garrick Rake like she was expecting, but rather a “Lee Modesitt” fellow. After backtracking and glancing at the other room’s nearby, she decides to try the office just in case.
When she enters, the room is empty, besides the stacked documentations and personal items that clearly stated somebody worked there. Taking a seat by the door, she wondered if Rake had forgotten about their meeting time and idly glanced at her watch. She was on time as of right now, but Rake was nowhere to be seen and this office didn’t seem to belong to him. Pictures of the family that belonged to this “Modesitt” were set out instead, along with other items.
Logan was confused as to why he would send her to an office that wasn’t his and not show up to meet her. It wasn’t like he was that late though, so Logan folded her ankles and began waiting, feeling like she had been made a joke by the man. Maybe he was the type of person who just needed to be interested first…unbuttoning the top two buttons on her shirt and adjusting herself in her bra, she slightly preened.
A dirty tactic she was used to by now and maybe it would work whenever this guy decided to show up. Almost as if reading her mind, the door swung open and a man entered, but he didn’t seem to see her, completely ignoring what she thought would grab his attention. Logan clears her throat, and he slowly turns around to look, confused as to where the sound came from, but then returns to his own devices. Couldn’t he see her sitting in front of him?
“Excuse me” when her slightly monotone voice hit his ears he turned around in surprise, finally looking at her. “Woah! …I didn’t see you there” he notes, staring at her, than looking out the door as if she had just come in. “…and what business can I help you with, miss?” he inquires, finally deciding to talk to her but looking a little lost when he glances back at her. “Are you Garrick Rake?” Logan asks, to which he looks mildly amused, “No... You must be the new girl?” he asks, to which she simply just nods. “Well good luck to you… I’d try waiting for him in the lobby” he recommends.
She realizes that this was the Modesitt fellow and thanks him before leaving his office, trailing back down the maze towards the elevator. This time much easier, having a little bit of an idea of where everything was in that area of the second floor. After the elevator door closes after her, she sighs, wondering why people thought it amusing whenever she mentioned Rake’s name.
Re-doing the buttons on her blouse, she exits the elevator and takes a glance around the lobby, not really sure of what she’s looking for. To double check the man didn’t show up when she went looking, she approaches the front counter once again and the woman is quick to notice her this time “Has he checked in yet?” she wonders, to which the receptionist just shakes her head. Logan was stuck waiting for her new partner, the man she knew only in name but not in face. The girl couldn’t even remember what he looked like in the news stories…
Logan sat down in one of the available areas, making sure the receptionist could see her and rested her slightly swollen feet. You’d think a girl would get use to heels eventually, but that seemed not to be the case for the blonde. Her eyes focused on the door as she waited, somewhat patiently, for the man in question.
Today she was on her way to D’ampton, Chase and Howard, a law firm she had been pushed towards in internship. Even at her displeasure in the old firm, Logan was surprisingly good at soliciting and got off her training contract with high recommendations. Though, in truth, the female hated everything about the dry and menial tasks of dealing with paperwork when she’d rather spend time in the courthouse. It was when she was thinking of giving it up that she received the interview at the new firm.
Out of courtesy rather than need, she accepted the interview, as the people of Novell and Campbell (her old employers) had gotten her it. What she didn’t expect, was to receive the phone call that she would be starting on the 20th under one Mr. Garrick Rake. It was a name she knew all too well, just by the amounts of media coverage the lawyer acquired. What stuck out to her though, was the reminder of the story six months ago in the Metro News, of a bus falling into the River Thames.
Logan would remember it as she came to the bus stop, this being the first time since then that she step foot on this mode of public transportation. The glass panes around the waiting area gave her some comfort from the wind, but the anxiety of the accident made her fingers tap nervously against her thigh. It was only six months ago, she remembered it like it was yesterday; she remembered it like the day she read Kate’s suicide note.
~
It was the number 78, which Logan’s eyes barely registered as she clambers on to the slightly crowded bus. There is a slight chatter on the bus that meets her ears, the driver barely registering her stepping up and paying. Most of the spots were taken, so once the blonde was behind the yellow line, that’s where she stayed, holding on to the vertical rail near the door.
The little details such as where she was going were clouded in her mind, but she remembered that she had gotten on close to the Tower Bridge. Everything after that had gone so fast, she glanced around the back to take a view of the strangers with her. That’s when she heard the honking of horns and a strange veering in the pathway, someone had screamed.
They hit the guard rail next to the river head on though, and went through it despite not going all that fast; panic hit the bus like a virus. It was like slow motion for Logan though, how she stumbled forward and hit the panel besides the driver, feeling her stomach drop against the adrenaline. They were descending towards the water and if not for the imbalance of weight they may have not done a slight nose dive into the Thames.
As the splash of the cold water hit her through the driver’s open window, she sputtered, the driver a little lost in his own world. Logan finally took a view of the passengers, seeing a woman in a wheel chair and a young child in the bus as well. The water was quickly filling the sinking vessel, but she still instructed the driver to open the door. Once that was accomplished, Logan started moving, driven by the fact that she couldn’t watch others die in front of her.
The man who caused the crash seemed to be able to handle himself, so Logan continued on, helping those who needed it towards the wall, the most she could do. Luckily there were some floatables making there way into the water by some helpful citizens, which would help those who couldn’t swim very well get to the docks or staircases. There was also a few that were doing the same as her, trying to help as many people as they could get out of the bus that was now completely submerged in the water.
Logan did not have a death wish though, there came a time when she herself couldn’t descend to the bus’ level with her lung capacity. It was then she had to give up, despite the people that were still trapped inside the transport. As she pulled herself up onto dry land, she choked out the water she swallowed, and realized with disarray she had been separated from the group.
It was preferred that way in her mind, she simply helped them out of the bus; it didn’t really matter to her about credit or not. In the news’ story her head had even been counted as one missing, but it also included the name of a lawyer.
~
Garrick Rake.
It wasn’t like there were introductions going around on the bus, so she wasn’t sure if she had helped the man or where he was on that fateful day. It probably wasn’t all that surprising that he filed a suit against the company, who had placed the blame on the driver, but Logan sort of expected him to defend the driver though, as he was oft the one with the guilty clients.
As the bus loomed up to the stop, her heart actually made reverberations in her chest, the squeal of breaks making her fingers twitch. The girl stood though, trying her best to stay strong, a thing she was used to since high school. Eventually people would notice her for the wrong reasons, eventually she learned to ignore things that were said when she walked by. Logan needed to be strong, and her face was rather placid as she stepped onto the bus and paid.
It was the 54, which would take her most of the way there, but she still had to walk up a block and into a building that echoed corporate management. Taking a seat with a soft sigh to herself, she brushed back the fly-a-ways from her hair, and pulled up the sleeve of her coat to check the time. It was still a few stops away yet, so her blue eyes peered out the fogged windows, foot tapping anxiously against the floor.
Eventually the bus came to a halt in front of her stop and after thanking the bus driver, she hurried off the bus and towards D’ampton, Chase and Howard. Mostly so the cold didn’t attack her as much, but also because she was interested to survey the people. The adjustments she had to make to her personality to play along were often easy to pinpoint, but it didn’t hurt to get a general sense first.
Besides, she would have to find the office that Rake wanted her to meet him in before she even started working besides him. Logan entered the building, making her way to the receptionist desk, in the middle of the lobby. On the way, she settled into taking off her coat and scarf to sling them over her right arm. Underneath she wore a cream button blouse tucked into a black skirt with tights underneath, a matching suit overcoat with three-fourths of a sleeve completed her outfit. As the mantra always said, dress for success…
It took a long drawn out moment for the receptionist to take note of her and after asking the woman about the man in question Logan didn’t miss her slightly jovial face. “He hasn’t checked in yet…and I’m not quite sure where he’ll be going today. Last I saw he was in office 2-310” she notes. The blonde nods, confirming that it was indeed the number she was given before directing herself to the elevator.
The second floor proves more of a lab test then the first, and she finds herself to be like a mouse, hunting for the cheese at the end of one of the dead ends. Eventually she finds the numbers in the 300’s and when she finally finds the office, she only needs to read the plaque. It didn’t read the Garrick Rake like she was expecting, but rather a “Lee Modesitt” fellow. After backtracking and glancing at the other room’s nearby, she decides to try the office just in case.
When she enters, the room is empty, besides the stacked documentations and personal items that clearly stated somebody worked there. Taking a seat by the door, she wondered if Rake had forgotten about their meeting time and idly glanced at her watch. She was on time as of right now, but Rake was nowhere to be seen and this office didn’t seem to belong to him. Pictures of the family that belonged to this “Modesitt” were set out instead, along with other items.
Logan was confused as to why he would send her to an office that wasn’t his and not show up to meet her. It wasn’t like he was that late though, so Logan folded her ankles and began waiting, feeling like she had been made a joke by the man. Maybe he was the type of person who just needed to be interested first…unbuttoning the top two buttons on her shirt and adjusting herself in her bra, she slightly preened.
A dirty tactic she was used to by now and maybe it would work whenever this guy decided to show up. Almost as if reading her mind, the door swung open and a man entered, but he didn’t seem to see her, completely ignoring what she thought would grab his attention. Logan clears her throat, and he slowly turns around to look, confused as to where the sound came from, but then returns to his own devices. Couldn’t he see her sitting in front of him?
“Excuse me” when her slightly monotone voice hit his ears he turned around in surprise, finally looking at her. “Woah! …I didn’t see you there” he notes, staring at her, than looking out the door as if she had just come in. “…and what business can I help you with, miss?” he inquires, finally deciding to talk to her but looking a little lost when he glances back at her. “Are you Garrick Rake?” Logan asks, to which he looks mildly amused, “No... You must be the new girl?” he asks, to which she simply just nods. “Well good luck to you… I’d try waiting for him in the lobby” he recommends.
She realizes that this was the Modesitt fellow and thanks him before leaving his office, trailing back down the maze towards the elevator. This time much easier, having a little bit of an idea of where everything was in that area of the second floor. After the elevator door closes after her, she sighs, wondering why people thought it amusing whenever she mentioned Rake’s name.
Re-doing the buttons on her blouse, she exits the elevator and takes a glance around the lobby, not really sure of what she’s looking for. To double check the man didn’t show up when she went looking, she approaches the front counter once again and the woman is quick to notice her this time “Has he checked in yet?” she wonders, to which the receptionist just shakes her head. Logan was stuck waiting for her new partner, the man she knew only in name but not in face. The girl couldn’t even remember what he looked like in the news stories…
Logan sat down in one of the available areas, making sure the receptionist could see her and rested her slightly swollen feet. You’d think a girl would get use to heels eventually, but that seemed not to be the case for the blonde. Her eyes focused on the door as she waited, somewhat patiently, for the man in question.
ErisianDialects
The Purple Sage
Have you ever just had one of those days? You know the ones I mean, when it seems like every tiny, little mistake comes back to haunt you? The waiting-until-married-ex sending you a pornographic movie of her, eight guys, and what appears to be a dog, or possibly just a very overenthusiatic furry. No idea which is worse, really. The meeting of your peers to decide how long you won't be able to do your chosen profession because of being caught in a photo with your hand up a magistrates skirt in a drunken grope in a pub in the middle of a trial, lines of a very illicit substance smudged across a table before you. Your secretary getting arrested from stealing enough money from you and your company to bankroll a medium sized African Warlord.
No? You're one of the lucky ones.
Garrick smiled as he finished uploading the video of his ex. He hoped it would go as viral as he hoped she was these days. One down. His secretary had been fired, not arrested, not yet. Thankfully he left the partners alone, and they left him alone, mostly. New interns coming and going, but that was business. A quick check of his bank account would have his eyes almost bugging out. The ***** had tried to set him up as a scapegoat, returning the money as part of the agreement to keeping the police out of it. He would transfer most of the money back into the business, with an email being sent off to bean counters. He would shake his head, wishing something heavy and blunt would fall on her head.
What he kept should be enough to pay back a friend he owed money to, as well as get him out of his present bind.
The bloody committee. He would sigh. Professional misconduct his ass. He got dressed and went to the cafe that was below his apartment, handing the cook the month's rent, and getting himself a coffee and decent fried breakfast to further gird himself against the rest of the day.
He phoned a woman and asked a special favour, before going to the early morning meeting. Suit, tie, hair done properly. Looking neat and respectable. So did the woman he met outside the building, a lovely young professional named Stormi. Of course her profession was the oldest, but he also knew amongst her clientel were two of the three of his so called peers. In fact they made a vety cute threesome, every Tuesday and Thursday night.
And so, his conscience as clean as his record continued to be as he paid the young woman an exobiant amount before they parted ways, a slight bounce in his step as he went to the place he worked. D'ampton, Chase and Howard. Three respectable solicitors, who many years ago had founded a partnership in law. D'ampton and Howard had both been sent to Australia as convicts, Chase had emigrated to America under a cloud of suspician on where the corpses of his three young wives were. The names had stuck, however, although the present lawyers had a much more colourful nickname amongst themselves they soon learned as they worked there. Dewey, Cheatem and How. Even though he wasn't a partner, he had been there more or less since he became a barrister. He was a minor legend in the place, known as the Time Lord, for the fact he had managed, in his first year, to bill fifteen hundred hours over December and January. Considering he had taken weekends off, and in fact the entire week between Christmas and New Years was spent in Bali just added to the legend.
It had also been the first time he had been brought up before the misconduct committee. And yet he had managed to talk his way out of it, showing firmly, in fact, that the hours he had billed he had worked. And somehow, he had managed to pull off fifteen hundred hours worth of billing, in a period of if he had worked twenty four hours a day, would not have even made it a thousand hours of billable time. He had never let it really get to him, however. And that just added to the legend. Noone was really sure what to do with him, they promoted him as far as they were willing, nowhere close to letting him have a say in the running of the place, but leaving him mostly a master of his own destiny there, which he appreciated.
An office of his own would have been nice, but there were always people going on vacation, or injuries, which left him a furnished office, access to hidden bottles of alcohol, and a complete set of law books. Actually, he was changing offices today. Modesitt was back from France. Rudijupal was going to meet his soon to be wife back in the home country and spending a month there. He had left his dufflebag in Rudi's office the night before.
Of course, he also had a new solicitor working under him now, a new hire or something. most were given to him to see if they could last in the business, but he had never bothered to find out its name. He rarely did in the first week. He smiled a little, imagining her running around upstairs. He looked at his watch. Nearly ten thirty. If he hadn't been found by eleven, he was cutting out for lunch. Of course he did have to meet one of his long term clients at the Stag's Prongs. They did do a good liquid lunch there. Of course he paid no attention whatsoever to anyone in the lobby, people who made appointments with him were rarely successful, and now, of course, he had noone to fill his days by annoying him with clients he didn't want. He complemented the receptionist on her dazzling new hairstyle, getting a funny look as he was pointed in her direction. Impressive. A few strides and he would be hovering over her.
"Garrick Rake, don't worry I'll learn your name next week."
A charming smile on his face, adjusting the glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, she had passed some kind of test from him already. His head quirked towards the door.
"Come on, we have to go meet a long time client of mine at the Prongs for an early lunch."
His hands got stuffed into his pockets, going out to brave the elements of London. He was curious about her already, part of him wondering why she seemed familiar, Quasimodo rapidly beating bells in the back of his head. He would wait to see if she would catch up, trying to place a figure to a name. Was she an old partner? Something from a drunken binge? This was going to be such an annoyance until he worked out where he'd seen her before.
No? You're one of the lucky ones.
Garrick smiled as he finished uploading the video of his ex. He hoped it would go as viral as he hoped she was these days. One down. His secretary had been fired, not arrested, not yet. Thankfully he left the partners alone, and they left him alone, mostly. New interns coming and going, but that was business. A quick check of his bank account would have his eyes almost bugging out. The ***** had tried to set him up as a scapegoat, returning the money as part of the agreement to keeping the police out of it. He would transfer most of the money back into the business, with an email being sent off to bean counters. He would shake his head, wishing something heavy and blunt would fall on her head.
What he kept should be enough to pay back a friend he owed money to, as well as get him out of his present bind.
The bloody committee. He would sigh. Professional misconduct his ass. He got dressed and went to the cafe that was below his apartment, handing the cook the month's rent, and getting himself a coffee and decent fried breakfast to further gird himself against the rest of the day.
He phoned a woman and asked a special favour, before going to the early morning meeting. Suit, tie, hair done properly. Looking neat and respectable. So did the woman he met outside the building, a lovely young professional named Stormi. Of course her profession was the oldest, but he also knew amongst her clientel were two of the three of his so called peers. In fact they made a vety cute threesome, every Tuesday and Thursday night.
And so, his conscience as clean as his record continued to be as he paid the young woman an exobiant amount before they parted ways, a slight bounce in his step as he went to the place he worked. D'ampton, Chase and Howard. Three respectable solicitors, who many years ago had founded a partnership in law. D'ampton and Howard had both been sent to Australia as convicts, Chase had emigrated to America under a cloud of suspician on where the corpses of his three young wives were. The names had stuck, however, although the present lawyers had a much more colourful nickname amongst themselves they soon learned as they worked there. Dewey, Cheatem and How. Even though he wasn't a partner, he had been there more or less since he became a barrister. He was a minor legend in the place, known as the Time Lord, for the fact he had managed, in his first year, to bill fifteen hundred hours over December and January. Considering he had taken weekends off, and in fact the entire week between Christmas and New Years was spent in Bali just added to the legend.
It had also been the first time he had been brought up before the misconduct committee. And yet he had managed to talk his way out of it, showing firmly, in fact, that the hours he had billed he had worked. And somehow, he had managed to pull off fifteen hundred hours worth of billing, in a period of if he had worked twenty four hours a day, would not have even made it a thousand hours of billable time. He had never let it really get to him, however. And that just added to the legend. Noone was really sure what to do with him, they promoted him as far as they were willing, nowhere close to letting him have a say in the running of the place, but leaving him mostly a master of his own destiny there, which he appreciated.
An office of his own would have been nice, but there were always people going on vacation, or injuries, which left him a furnished office, access to hidden bottles of alcohol, and a complete set of law books. Actually, he was changing offices today. Modesitt was back from France. Rudijupal was going to meet his soon to be wife back in the home country and spending a month there. He had left his dufflebag in Rudi's office the night before.
Of course, he also had a new solicitor working under him now, a new hire or something. most were given to him to see if they could last in the business, but he had never bothered to find out its name. He rarely did in the first week. He smiled a little, imagining her running around upstairs. He looked at his watch. Nearly ten thirty. If he hadn't been found by eleven, he was cutting out for lunch. Of course he did have to meet one of his long term clients at the Stag's Prongs. They did do a good liquid lunch there. Of course he paid no attention whatsoever to anyone in the lobby, people who made appointments with him were rarely successful, and now, of course, he had noone to fill his days by annoying him with clients he didn't want. He complemented the receptionist on her dazzling new hairstyle, getting a funny look as he was pointed in her direction. Impressive. A few strides and he would be hovering over her.
"Garrick Rake, don't worry I'll learn your name next week."
A charming smile on his face, adjusting the glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, she had passed some kind of test from him already. His head quirked towards the door.
"Come on, we have to go meet a long time client of mine at the Prongs for an early lunch."
His hands got stuffed into his pockets, going out to brave the elements of London. He was curious about her already, part of him wondering why she seemed familiar, Quasimodo rapidly beating bells in the back of his head. He would wait to see if she would catch up, trying to place a figure to a name. Was she an old partner? Something from a drunken binge? This was going to be such an annoyance until he worked out where he'd seen her before.
Legendless
Netherworld Overlord
Ginger hummed softly to herself as she stared at the list of clubs that would be available on the school's campus. She didn't have a particular song in mind, her melody soft but upbeat as well. She rocked back and rock on her heels as she looked, finding it hard to just stand still. Ginger had always been like that though. Always moving, always thinking. It was just the way that she was.
Thankfully not too many people were on campus this early and so she didn't have to deal with any pushing or shoving or accidental running intos. Ginger found that some people were just so focus on their task or getting to class that they didn't pay attention to where they were going. The brunette also knew she was guilty of this as well, but she found it hard to focus on her surrounding when she had so much else to think of. Ginger rarely bumped into anyone anymore, but she had a lot of near misses as well. Still nothing too bad.
The young adult was also lucky that no one was really around as she had the chance to look at everything without a crowd of people, trying to see when things were, if people were getting rid of things or animals or even people looking for a roommate. Ginger herself was only interested in the clubs and maybe some of the volunteer groups. She might re-join the study group again this year. It seemed to work out well last year and she made a few good friends. But she also wanted to see what else was available. Ginger was always looking to try something new and college opened the door to a lot.
She continued to hum as she wrote down a few names of clubs and dates and times when they met, then looked to her watch, smiling to herself. She had work to get to. She spun around a guy knocking right into her with some force. Ginger remained standing, only being pushed back a little as she tried to move out of the way but the guy was not so lucky. He was knocked to the group and looked up at her a little dazed.
"Oh sorry," he told her, as Ginger helped him up. He looked confused as well, but Ginger just smiled. "I thought I was going to knock you over. Guess I didn't run into you that hard."
Ginger shook her head. "It's okay. You're the one who fell. Are you going to be alright?"
"I'll be fine." The boy looked around. "Anyways I have to go." Ginger nodded and watched him for a moment, hurry down the hall. Another glance at her watch reminded her that she had work to go to if she did not want to be late. Again.
Thankfully not too many people were on campus this early and so she didn't have to deal with any pushing or shoving or accidental running intos. Ginger found that some people were just so focus on their task or getting to class that they didn't pay attention to where they were going. The brunette also knew she was guilty of this as well, but she found it hard to focus on her surrounding when she had so much else to think of. Ginger rarely bumped into anyone anymore, but she had a lot of near misses as well. Still nothing too bad.
The young adult was also lucky that no one was really around as she had the chance to look at everything without a crowd of people, trying to see when things were, if people were getting rid of things or animals or even people looking for a roommate. Ginger herself was only interested in the clubs and maybe some of the volunteer groups. She might re-join the study group again this year. It seemed to work out well last year and she made a few good friends. But she also wanted to see what else was available. Ginger was always looking to try something new and college opened the door to a lot.
She continued to hum as she wrote down a few names of clubs and dates and times when they met, then looked to her watch, smiling to herself. She had work to get to. She spun around a guy knocking right into her with some force. Ginger remained standing, only being pushed back a little as she tried to move out of the way but the guy was not so lucky. He was knocked to the group and looked up at her a little dazed.
"Oh sorry," he told her, as Ginger helped him up. He looked confused as well, but Ginger just smiled. "I thought I was going to knock you over. Guess I didn't run into you that hard."
Ginger shook her head. "It's okay. You're the one who fell. Are you going to be alright?"
"I'll be fine." The boy looked around. "Anyways I have to go." Ginger nodded and watched him for a moment, hurry down the hall. Another glance at her watch reminded her that she had work to go to if she did not want to be late. Again.
Alexina
One Thousand Club
Luckily Eliza only had a small visit after the bus crash to the hospital a few days at most. Sure the scene haunted her in her dreams still, and she had a hard time getting the little sleep she managed as is. That wasn’t a big deal . . . busses, those only methods of transportation was. That and she lost one of her jobs due to missing those days at work. To fix a touch of this issue she relocated what little she could to a smaller apartment near where she was lucky enough to find two jobs within walking distant. A coffee shop for the morning/afternoon and a steak pub at night/afternoon; mostly tip work but she survived.
There she was filling cups with coffee, taken orders, and doing her best for the tips when Garrick came through just another customer to her. She was there when a couple broke up later. As amusing as it was since she herself thought the girl deserved better. It wasn’t so fun that it was done so with the girl throwing her coffee at the male leaving a mess for Eliza to clean up. The tips . . . coffee shop tips were rarely very good but at least she got the minimum wage as well hourly for that job.
She had maybe thirty minutes when that shift ended to head home, change out of her coffee work uniform (a yellow dress with white apron) and into jeans and a t-shirt with the steak houses’ logo on it. Always running, always in a hurry, even sleep seemed to be far and few. She would make it into her next job on time without a bite to eat other than a few cups of coffee courteous of working her first job and maybe a stale piece of toast.
It seemed today was going to be just another one of those days. On her feet, filling orders and trying to manage at least one discounted meal between lunch and dinner from her second job. Yeah . . . at times she questioned why she even survived that bus crash. Surely some of those that drowned were a lot more useful to this world than her.
Being distracted only got a ripe slap on her butt as one of her dailies found his chance. Great she couldn’t help think, now I’m going to be sore all night. “Hey Matt, what can I get for you? You’re usual?” Turning to face him with that beautiful smile, she even was willing to place a hand on his shoulder. I hope you get sick off it if you leave me a horrid tip like you did last time. The order was made of course with extreme flirting and teasing as if he might for once order something different. As always though he got the same thing, she had figured out his system by now. She knew all his certain meals for a certain day and always at lunchtime and in her section.
There she was filling cups with coffee, taken orders, and doing her best for the tips when Garrick came through just another customer to her. She was there when a couple broke up later. As amusing as it was since she herself thought the girl deserved better. It wasn’t so fun that it was done so with the girl throwing her coffee at the male leaving a mess for Eliza to clean up. The tips . . . coffee shop tips were rarely very good but at least she got the minimum wage as well hourly for that job.
She had maybe thirty minutes when that shift ended to head home, change out of her coffee work uniform (a yellow dress with white apron) and into jeans and a t-shirt with the steak houses’ logo on it. Always running, always in a hurry, even sleep seemed to be far and few. She would make it into her next job on time without a bite to eat other than a few cups of coffee courteous of working her first job and maybe a stale piece of toast.
It seemed today was going to be just another one of those days. On her feet, filling orders and trying to manage at least one discounted meal between lunch and dinner from her second job. Yeah . . . at times she questioned why she even survived that bus crash. Surely some of those that drowned were a lot more useful to this world than her.
Being distracted only got a ripe slap on her butt as one of her dailies found his chance. Great she couldn’t help think, now I’m going to be sore all night. “Hey Matt, what can I get for you? You’re usual?” Turning to face him with that beautiful smile, she even was willing to place a hand on his shoulder. I hope you get sick off it if you leave me a horrid tip like you did last time. The order was made of course with extreme flirting and teasing as if he might for once order something different. As always though he got the same thing, she had figured out his system by now. She knew all his certain meals for a certain day and always at lunchtime and in her section.
AlwaysChaos
One Thousand Club
7:30. The bleeding alarm wouldn’t shut up for all the money in the world. Raige would have liked to silence it herself, but alas that bar steward of an uncle needed to wake up. Perhaps of his own accord if luck would come down on this household just once. But as luck would have it the alarm went off for a good twenty minutes before Raige gave up and stormed into Nicky’s room. “Get your lazy arse up!” she began to shake the slouch out of his slumber whilst yelling into his ear.
"Yes I'd love a sconner" Nicky spoke in a groggy voice, midst waking a most likely perverted dream with that talk. Rolling her eyes at his expected behavior, she watched a few moments to make sure he was truly awake before heading to her bedroom to grab her pack.
Raige adjusted her shirt, not one for perfection, but image was important. Too bad she couldn't shake the image that made others look to her like a child. She hadn't been one in years. Yet it would take at least that many more years before the exterior matched the interior. Youth was truly overrated. Closing her eyes Raige went through a checklist in her head: wash up and get dressed, make some grub and do the dishes, make sure mother wasn't comatose, wake up Nicky for, regrettably, school escort and work, check over homework with a fresh view. Tapping her pointer finger to it's neighbor as she ticked through her list, Raige would open her eyes after going through the mental list. “Raige, it's time to head to school if you don't want to be late, no more time to waste you little twit!” Nicky's annoying voice echoed through the flat once the so called adult was done with his own morning ritual.
After the incident all of six months ago now Nicky found himself wary of buses and most local transport. Unlike his exasperating niece who seemed unaffected by the whole ordeal, but she was something else so it was to be expected in ways. In turn Nicky found himself walking more, which didn't seem too bad a trade off compared to the alternate. They had left with his sister still asleep, or perhaps of yet to even come home from her escapades, obvious she was oblivious to what had happened. Not for the first time Nicky felt ashamed to call her sister. Once Raige was properly dropped off Nicky made his way to his regular spot at the local coffee shop. He allowed his mind to wonder, which meant one thing: the bus. The flashes started, fractions of times that when pieced together reminded him time and time again of the worst five minutes of his life.
It had happened too fast. One moment they were on the bus, arguing the validity of school systems in the states, the next there was water. Lots of water. Raige was typically cool and collected albeit her hothead, she kept her nerves about herself better than Nicky at times, not that he would admit such a hing out loud. But when they hit, he heard nothing of or from her. Everything was a mess. Bodies were thrown and things were broken. When Nicky managed to locate his niece with his eyes he paled and lost what air had been left in his lungs. “Raige... Raige! You little twit answer me!” There was blood, an arm twisted most wrong, and a stillness to her. Thoughts were jumbled, he was forgetting how to breathe: she couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be.
“My apologies” Nicky responded to the expectant face before him “Would you remind repeating that?” Pulling himself from his own personal nightmare he ordered a cup of joe and a pastry. Tasting dry in his mouth he dipped his breakfast into the coffee and enjoyed the quick meal, even dry it was better than something he could attempt to of whipped up, or cattled as Raige would call it. Thanking the bird with an appreciating grin that went further than food he left a quid in tip and ran off to make some dough before Raige got out of secondary. Adult as she may act, she was still all of a child and his waff of a sister wasn't exactly one to remember that. Someone had to, and Nicky took his self-appointed job in stride.
"Yes I'd love a sconner" Nicky spoke in a groggy voice, midst waking a most likely perverted dream with that talk. Rolling her eyes at his expected behavior, she watched a few moments to make sure he was truly awake before heading to her bedroom to grab her pack.
Raige adjusted her shirt, not one for perfection, but image was important. Too bad she couldn't shake the image that made others look to her like a child. She hadn't been one in years. Yet it would take at least that many more years before the exterior matched the interior. Youth was truly overrated. Closing her eyes Raige went through a checklist in her head: wash up and get dressed, make some grub and do the dishes, make sure mother wasn't comatose, wake up Nicky for, regrettably, school escort and work, check over homework with a fresh view. Tapping her pointer finger to it's neighbor as she ticked through her list, Raige would open her eyes after going through the mental list. “Raige, it's time to head to school if you don't want to be late, no more time to waste you little twit!” Nicky's annoying voice echoed through the flat once the so called adult was done with his own morning ritual.
After the incident all of six months ago now Nicky found himself wary of buses and most local transport. Unlike his exasperating niece who seemed unaffected by the whole ordeal, but she was something else so it was to be expected in ways. In turn Nicky found himself walking more, which didn't seem too bad a trade off compared to the alternate. They had left with his sister still asleep, or perhaps of yet to even come home from her escapades, obvious she was oblivious to what had happened. Not for the first time Nicky felt ashamed to call her sister. Once Raige was properly dropped off Nicky made his way to his regular spot at the local coffee shop. He allowed his mind to wonder, which meant one thing: the bus. The flashes started, fractions of times that when pieced together reminded him time and time again of the worst five minutes of his life.
It had happened too fast. One moment they were on the bus, arguing the validity of school systems in the states, the next there was water. Lots of water. Raige was typically cool and collected albeit her hothead, she kept her nerves about herself better than Nicky at times, not that he would admit such a hing out loud. But when they hit, he heard nothing of or from her. Everything was a mess. Bodies were thrown and things were broken. When Nicky managed to locate his niece with his eyes he paled and lost what air had been left in his lungs. “Raige... Raige! You little twit answer me!” There was blood, an arm twisted most wrong, and a stillness to her. Thoughts were jumbled, he was forgetting how to breathe: she couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be.
“My apologies” Nicky responded to the expectant face before him “Would you remind repeating that?” Pulling himself from his own personal nightmare he ordered a cup of joe and a pastry. Tasting dry in his mouth he dipped his breakfast into the coffee and enjoyed the quick meal, even dry it was better than something he could attempt to of whipped up, or cattled as Raige would call it. Thanking the bird with an appreciating grin that went further than food he left a quid in tip and ran off to make some dough before Raige got out of secondary. Adult as she may act, she was still all of a child and his waff of a sister wasn't exactly one to remember that. Someone had to, and Nicky took his self-appointed job in stride.
Michishige Sachiko
Member
"Hello, this is Lynette Rousseau. I'm sorry I cannot come to the phone right now, please leave a message at the end of the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you!"
Beep!
Sitting in front of a large window door that lead out onto a small balcony, was a wheelchair. It's wheels locked so it wouldn't go anywhere and a young slim figure was seated within it. She stared out through the window, over the rail of her balcony to the image of the city beyond. The woman had a slender figure, even as she slouched a bit within her chair. Her pale gold hair was pulled up into a messy bun, though she didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to get it fixed.
Upon hearing someone leaving a message, Lynette sighed and her eyes slid shut... She really should unplug her phone... Especially if she wasn't wanting to take calls at the moment, since it only left her frustrated and upset when she heard what people had to say to her. Tears filled the woman's eyes as she heard the familiar voice suddenly speak up on her messaging machine.
"Lynie? Are you there? Please answer the phone! It's mom! Please... Talk to me, sweetheart. I just want to help! You shouldn't be up there all by yourself, you've been in two accidents now! Please listen to me... Come back home honey, let us help you... Lynie? When you're ready to talk... Your father and I will be here."
Click
And that was it, the voice was gone and silence filled the apartment once more. There was a chill in the air, but Lynette didn't seem to notice not even as goosebumps rose on her skin. The woman closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the flood of tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks. Why couldn't her mother understand that she didn't want to talk to them? Especially when all they'd try and do was convince her to return home... And how could she do that when she'd be surrendering her independence and forced to live as an invalid for the rest of her life? She already had to live with the indignity of having a nurse stop by throughout the day to help care for her.
Raising a hand, Lynette rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, wiping away the tears as they formed. A shaky breath left her lips and her form quivered a bit before her mind shot back to what had happened six months ago. Absently she raised her other hand to where a scar rested along her temple.
~*~
A frown pulled across Lynette's lips as she sat on the bus, staring out the window as her thoughts drifted. She was on her way to downtown London, in hopes that she'd be able to meet with a barrister about filing a possible law-suit against someone. She hoped it wouldn't be too expensive, but she at least had to try. There was simply no way she could live with herself if she didn't take this step to see to it that that man got punishment for what he'd done to her and others.
For a moment she thought everything was fine as her eyes stared down at the waters of the Thames, but then she'd noticed that the guard rail seemed to come closer... What the?
The next moment, before she had a chance to scream or shout, the bus had slammed into the railing and was sent careening out into the air. The first impact had jerked the handicapped woman's frame forward so her head impacted the headrest of the seat in front of her. A few seconds later the bus hit the water and the momentum sent her frame lurching backwards into her own seat before her head struck the window she'd been sitting next to. Lynette distinctly felt blood dripping down from her head, she must have broken skin at some point. Her head pounded and throbbed painfully, blocking out any attempts to consciously think things through.
She sat there, in a daze... Unable to think, unable to move as water began to fill the bus.
Hands were pulling her out of her seat, but she couldn't see who it was. After that her surroundings blanked out as she slipped into unconsciousness. Lynette didn't wake up again until she was laying on the sidewalk with paramedics around her after having given her resuscitation.
~*~
Shaking her head, Lynette tried to stop thinking about that experience. After all it was just going to haunt her days and possibly give her nightmares. She still felt terrified of buses and absolutely refused to get into them anymore.
The sound of her clock chiming out within the room distracted the woman and she hesitated, listening to it for a moment before releasing another sigh. An hour late... Where was her nurse? This was beginning to get a little annoying with how tardy this nurse was at times.
Beep!
Sitting in front of a large window door that lead out onto a small balcony, was a wheelchair. It's wheels locked so it wouldn't go anywhere and a young slim figure was seated within it. She stared out through the window, over the rail of her balcony to the image of the city beyond. The woman had a slender figure, even as she slouched a bit within her chair. Her pale gold hair was pulled up into a messy bun, though she didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to get it fixed.
Upon hearing someone leaving a message, Lynette sighed and her eyes slid shut... She really should unplug her phone... Especially if she wasn't wanting to take calls at the moment, since it only left her frustrated and upset when she heard what people had to say to her. Tears filled the woman's eyes as she heard the familiar voice suddenly speak up on her messaging machine.
"Lynie? Are you there? Please answer the phone! It's mom! Please... Talk to me, sweetheart. I just want to help! You shouldn't be up there all by yourself, you've been in two accidents now! Please listen to me... Come back home honey, let us help you... Lynie? When you're ready to talk... Your father and I will be here."
Click
And that was it, the voice was gone and silence filled the apartment once more. There was a chill in the air, but Lynette didn't seem to notice not even as goosebumps rose on her skin. The woman closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the flood of tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks. Why couldn't her mother understand that she didn't want to talk to them? Especially when all they'd try and do was convince her to return home... And how could she do that when she'd be surrendering her independence and forced to live as an invalid for the rest of her life? She already had to live with the indignity of having a nurse stop by throughout the day to help care for her.
Raising a hand, Lynette rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, wiping away the tears as they formed. A shaky breath left her lips and her form quivered a bit before her mind shot back to what had happened six months ago. Absently she raised her other hand to where a scar rested along her temple.
~*~
A frown pulled across Lynette's lips as she sat on the bus, staring out the window as her thoughts drifted. She was on her way to downtown London, in hopes that she'd be able to meet with a barrister about filing a possible law-suit against someone. She hoped it wouldn't be too expensive, but she at least had to try. There was simply no way she could live with herself if she didn't take this step to see to it that that man got punishment for what he'd done to her and others.
For a moment she thought everything was fine as her eyes stared down at the waters of the Thames, but then she'd noticed that the guard rail seemed to come closer... What the?
The next moment, before she had a chance to scream or shout, the bus had slammed into the railing and was sent careening out into the air. The first impact had jerked the handicapped woman's frame forward so her head impacted the headrest of the seat in front of her. A few seconds later the bus hit the water and the momentum sent her frame lurching backwards into her own seat before her head struck the window she'd been sitting next to. Lynette distinctly felt blood dripping down from her head, she must have broken skin at some point. Her head pounded and throbbed painfully, blocking out any attempts to consciously think things through.
She sat there, in a daze... Unable to think, unable to move as water began to fill the bus.
Hands were pulling her out of her seat, but she couldn't see who it was. After that her surroundings blanked out as she slipped into unconsciousness. Lynette didn't wake up again until she was laying on the sidewalk with paramedics around her after having given her resuscitation.
~*~
Shaking her head, Lynette tried to stop thinking about that experience. After all it was just going to haunt her days and possibly give her nightmares. She still felt terrified of buses and absolutely refused to get into them anymore.
The sound of her clock chiming out within the room distracted the woman and she hesitated, listening to it for a moment before releasing another sigh. An hour late... Where was her nurse? This was beginning to get a little annoying with how tardy this nurse was at times.
Riddle78
Four Thousand Club
When the young man returned with his drink,Julius said, "I'm ready to place my meal order,if you don't mind." The waiter pulled out a pad of paper and a pen,and said, "Of course,sir. What can I bring you?" Julius set down the menu,and planted the tip of his index finger on an item on the menu. "Pulled pork sandwich. Lettuce,mayo,mustard,ketchup,double edam cheese,and some bacon,with a poutine on the side. All on whole wheat." The young man wrote very quickly,keeping pace to Julius' swift speech. "Will that be all,sir?" Julius nodded,closed the menu,then held it out to the waiter. "Yup. When can I expect my soup?" The waiter relieved Julius of his menu,and replied, "Five minutes,tops." "Perfect. Thank you." With a smile and nod,the waiter returned to the kitchen to relay the order. Julius wondered where the others on the bus were. He shrugged,and looked around the street on the other side of the low brick wall seperating the outside dining space from London's chaotic midday streets. "Just like Halifax..." He taken a swig of Coke,and allowed his mind to wander to his co-workers,including his partner.
Gemini
Bazinga.
There was a stillness to the air as Johnathan leant an elbow against the floor to ceiling window of his high-rise apartment. A leg casually hooking behind the other in his lean as he overlooked the thames as his gaze shifted from the sluggish ferry that worked the bend and over the O2 arena. Observing the fine mist that curled about it's jutting crown, it's appearance etheral in the morning fog.
He felt woozy after a to long night's sleep having woken dehydrated, his eyes heavy despite being well rested, and blinking he lifted his free hand to take another bite of his breakfast. Finishing off the burnt slice of toast held between fingers in several unhurried bites, it's taste ashen against his tongue, before dusting fingers against his pajama bottoms idly. Feeling the hidden and slightly raised strip of skin that adorned his outer leg beneath the fabric, the scar his only mement of the incident those six months ago.
Pushing upright, the fingers of his clean hand steadied and drew across the glass pane as he straightened, curling in fist and knocking against the glass pane idly as he turned and moved away from the sight. His steps were muffled against the woodwork, the underfloor heating the otherwise chilled surface, warming the soles of feet.
"Slow the tempo, just keep it steady. There's no need to go overboard on somethin' like this. . . alright. . . th- **** sake. . ."
Johnathan cursed as the bus took a sharp turn, knocking him off balance, and with a silent apology directed at the child his eyes alighted on as he gathered his bearings, the fingers gripping his phone parting slightly to reveal an open palm in gesture in her guardians' direction, he turned more fully to face the window, directing his back upon the majority including the pair.
Adjusting his grip on the pole and steadying his balance, he forced his attention back to the conversation at hand. "What was I saying. . . yeah, sorry, no i'm good, almost went face first-."
The phone in Johnathan's hand dropped, abandoned in search for a more secure hold as the bus suddenly jolted up the pavement. Crashed through the guardrail. The steady rush of water immediate as the bus plunged head first into the thames before levelling out, his intital response was panic, his first instinct to escape and pulling himself from the bus his legs and arms worked to keep himself afloat as he found himself in the river, the sudden rush of cold water shocking his body and he forced himself to breath.
His eyes closed as the streaming water cascaded over his face and body, pushing wet hair back with both hands before drawing them across his face as he leant his head back to stare up at the shower head. The roar of water echoing in the otherwise detached room.
He barely registered the faces, much less those him, everything was chaos, even whilst from afar the scene appeared contained, controlled. There were no longer any screams, there was only panic. A rush to get everyone out before the boat could become fully submerged.
Taking a breath as the bus was rapidly swallowed by the river and the escape became more desperate, Johanthan dived beneath the surface, moving back into the bus as he simultaneously pulled his fellow passengers out with the aid of several others, before finally ducking inside to help those still struggling. He didn't even notice as a shard of broken glass cut across his outer leg, adrenaline numbing the pain. . .
Breaking the surface, his arm wrapped about another passenger, Johnathan felt his legs giving out from beneath him, felt himsef struggling to stay afloat when he caught the flash of orange near by, a float, and with what energy he had left he swam toward it pulling the semi-concious body with him, collapsing upon the deck as they were pulled aboard, unable to do anything else.
His body was tired, exhausted. He wanted to go home. He had gone home.
It had been two days before he had finally handed himself over, admitted himself to be alive and well and he claimed to have been uninvolved, a friend aiding with his alibi to prevent further fuss. The newspapers and reports had soon dropped the focus on him altogether.
Opening the back door of the silver car and sliding several blank canvas inside before closing the door and climbing into the front seat, Johnathan sat for a momment with the engine running, his back heating as the air about him warmed, the sound of music breaking the thoughful silence. It was an experimental piece, and as he finally began to move releasig he handbrake, he unconciously hummed lyrics yet to be given word as he set the car into moion and check up on he Kings and Queens.
He felt woozy after a to long night's sleep having woken dehydrated, his eyes heavy despite being well rested, and blinking he lifted his free hand to take another bite of his breakfast. Finishing off the burnt slice of toast held between fingers in several unhurried bites, it's taste ashen against his tongue, before dusting fingers against his pajama bottoms idly. Feeling the hidden and slightly raised strip of skin that adorned his outer leg beneath the fabric, the scar his only mement of the incident those six months ago.
Pushing upright, the fingers of his clean hand steadied and drew across the glass pane as he straightened, curling in fist and knocking against the glass pane idly as he turned and moved away from the sight. His steps were muffled against the woodwork, the underfloor heating the otherwise chilled surface, warming the soles of feet.
"Slow the tempo, just keep it steady. There's no need to go overboard on somethin' like this. . . alright. . . th- **** sake. . ."
Johnathan cursed as the bus took a sharp turn, knocking him off balance, and with a silent apology directed at the child his eyes alighted on as he gathered his bearings, the fingers gripping his phone parting slightly to reveal an open palm in gesture in her guardians' direction, he turned more fully to face the window, directing his back upon the majority including the pair.
Adjusting his grip on the pole and steadying his balance, he forced his attention back to the conversation at hand. "What was I saying. . . yeah, sorry, no i'm good, almost went face first-."
The phone in Johnathan's hand dropped, abandoned in search for a more secure hold as the bus suddenly jolted up the pavement. Crashed through the guardrail. The steady rush of water immediate as the bus plunged head first into the thames before levelling out, his intital response was panic, his first instinct to escape and pulling himself from the bus his legs and arms worked to keep himself afloat as he found himself in the river, the sudden rush of cold water shocking his body and he forced himself to breath.
His eyes closed as the streaming water cascaded over his face and body, pushing wet hair back with both hands before drawing them across his face as he leant his head back to stare up at the shower head. The roar of water echoing in the otherwise detached room.
He barely registered the faces, much less those him, everything was chaos, even whilst from afar the scene appeared contained, controlled. There were no longer any screams, there was only panic. A rush to get everyone out before the boat could become fully submerged.
Taking a breath as the bus was rapidly swallowed by the river and the escape became more desperate, Johanthan dived beneath the surface, moving back into the bus as he simultaneously pulled his fellow passengers out with the aid of several others, before finally ducking inside to help those still struggling. He didn't even notice as a shard of broken glass cut across his outer leg, adrenaline numbing the pain. . .
Breaking the surface, his arm wrapped about another passenger, Johnathan felt his legs giving out from beneath him, felt himsef struggling to stay afloat when he caught the flash of orange near by, a float, and with what energy he had left he swam toward it pulling the semi-concious body with him, collapsing upon the deck as they were pulled aboard, unable to do anything else.
His body was tired, exhausted. He wanted to go home. He had gone home.
It had been two days before he had finally handed himself over, admitted himself to be alive and well and he claimed to have been uninvolved, a friend aiding with his alibi to prevent further fuss. The newspapers and reports had soon dropped the focus on him altogether.
Opening the back door of the silver car and sliding several blank canvas inside before closing the door and climbing into the front seat, Johnathan sat for a momment with the engine running, his back heating as the air about him warmed, the sound of music breaking the thoughful silence. It was an experimental piece, and as he finally began to move releasig he handbrake, he unconciously hummed lyrics yet to be given word as he set the car into moion and check up on he Kings and Queens.
He had seen an old lady get on the bus but at first he didn't want to get up. His head had shifted towards the stained window, observing the Thames romping its banks, weaving so lightly through the city. Whilst staring in bewilderment, he had almost felt like he was going downstream on a current, floating... but this has all been interrupted when the old lady's strait-laced, wrinkled hand clutched the pole next to him, to hold on while the bus was making a turn. Albeit he had been careful not to look at her, he accidentally let his gaze fall on her and then, struck with self-consciousness, he couldn't help but feel he would be judged if he didn't get up and so, as a small smile had been twitching on the edge of his lips, he uttered, "Ah, sorry. Here, you... can sit." the old lady's smile was full with content whilst Graham moved to the back of the bus and stood there until it happened... And six months later, he is still real.
He stole the innocence of the sound which had been beating your ear drums. Thus all you heard were true lies, bitter unfolding of tomorrow.
We can travel to the future but we can never go back. Thus, you can never go back to correct the mistakes you both made but you pretend, you forget, you don’t think about this, you do not drown in self-misery, after all, you can’t afford such luxury.
With that on his mind, he got up from his bed, as drowsy as ever. His monochrome voice vibrated into a meek yawn. The sour ochre colour of the enclosing walls of his room aggressed his eyes, giving them a taste such as one of lemons and vinegar. His eyes immediately puckered, still half asleep, his eyesight blurry, his attention oscitant. Nothing has changed. Not even the way his boney, slick fingers ran through his unkempt hair. Good, he is still tangible.
“I gotta repaint this thing…” the words that rolled off his grumpy lips were so tiny, so insignificant, and effaceable. And there, buried somewhere underneath his stone-veiled skin, was a need to scoff, just a bit, to brighten up the mood. Nevertheless, instead of that burning desire, he sighed nonchalantly.
Beep.
The sound of air-conditioning turning on echoed. Its warm breeze hit his clenched face. His cold skin collided with relaxing current of air. Why does it have to be nearly winter? The loneliness of it, the crystal chill, resting on top of thin ice, frozen content, all arriving. The nearly perfect description of Graham, only nearly because there are layers and layers of unreliable snow to come, yet… inside of him, they never melt, perish. Nobody knows what lies in the depth of winter. So, Graham hates it. The weather may seem true, but that is one thing he’d like to deny, defy, crush, mould into a different shape, control it, own it, change it and in the end like it.
The floor screeched under his livid feet whilst he was heading towards the bathroom to answer nature’s call.
No cats, no dogs, no pests. Alone and comfortable. The apartment might have looked shabby on the outside but it was perfectly suitable on the inside as much as that word ‘perfect’ was reliable and affirmed. Would Santa come this year finally? If so, he needs to clean the chimney.
Stretching his body, yawning with flagging refinement, washing up his face, rubbing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his rosy nose; the usual, stale morning routine.
Six months later, six months of commotion yet he was left forgotten. Another front page masked his frightened expression, his… his anger. Rage which couldn’t vent itself, rage which had been suppressed, never to surmount obstacles, left to get eaten away by false pride and tranquility he had been fighting for all this time. Erased just like that. However, he learned one thing. Two things actually, never trust bus drivers and never trust water; it gives life and it takes it away. And now, as it was gently caressing his hands, flowing over it, memories wanted to bloom the way flowers do once you water them. Nonetheless, he was far too unemotional to respond so he punched them back. What’s the use anyway? It happened. Thinking about it won’t fix whatever problem he has with that.
Turning off the water flow, his eyes nestled on the image his mirror portrayed. He had forgotten how long his eyelashes were and just by recalling that, he merely let go of his frown, blinking. Twenty three years old, nothing has changed since his high school years, well almost nothing. He grew in height a bit though but he is still considered ‘short’. He never really bothered though. Black and white. That’s the path, his shirt and pants show it too; plain. The only almost unnoticeable charm of his were his eyelashes… if you can call that a charm.
His legs moved again, pacing towards the kitchen to grab some milk before going to a place full of dark goth, semi-goth, nerdy people. The comic store. It really is comical. If we’re going to badmouth about the employees, well… there are almost none except Graham and well, the chubby old boss who considers that every character in every comic he owns is real, tangible and has a smart lesson Graham should learn… tch, that round, talking, unsymmetrical, pain in Graham’s cortex.
His shoulders shrugged as he tossed his head back, pouring milk down his throat right from the carton box. Once this highly ‘important’ and ‘memorable’ scene ended, he aimed to put milk back into the refrigerator. And… and… and… there was a bug on it! With a disgusted grimace he winced back, slipping on his pant’s sleeves and up goes the flying carton of milk! And down goes on his head! The expression on his face, laced with surprise, ridicule and misfortune, was priceless. “Tch.” He clicked his tongue, obviously displeased and… how could a man feel experiencing milk sliding down his cheeks so elegantly? Falling on his clothes so innocently, getting soaked in by the rough fabric, spreading its odour to replace the smell of peaches in his hair…
Close your eyes.
Don’t let it get to you.
Half an hour later, with an unhappy, pouting grimace plastered all over his face, he finally headed to work, having used a brand new shampoo, a white nutritious liquid secreted by mammals. And the bug… let’s just say, albeit it was painful to even look at it let alone throw it out, his hostility towards had managed to trap it and make it move out. Note to self: disinfect the house later.
Stepping out of his apartment, a sudden chill crept up his bones. The morning fog repeated itself every day, season and year; it hovered above the pavement, it masked its irregularity, it danced on the sharp morning breeze which had whipped his face.
The steps he made were small, as if he was doing it on purpose, not paying attention to the hurried people circling around him in a jolted crowd. His hands were clenched and nestled in his jacket’s pockets, warming them up. Voices piled up, each holding onto that early tone of cowed submissiveness to sleep.
He could also hear someone singing. He could feel the energy embedded into the lyrics, he could feel its honesty, was it trying to cheer up the crowd? Graham’s eyes lurked around to catch sense of the person who conveyed such pretty emotions but he couldn't decipher the face or the voice; it was like it was everywhere, but also nowhere thus, engulfed into his own world, he continued pacing and somewhere along the way, he lost sense of his actions and hummed… hummed the melody he had heard.
This music in me. Kinda there, kinda not.
He stole the innocence of the sound which had been beating your ear drums. Thus all you heard were true lies, bitter unfolding of tomorrow.
We can travel to the future but we can never go back. Thus, you can never go back to correct the mistakes you both made but you pretend, you forget, you don’t think about this, you do not drown in self-misery, after all, you can’t afford such luxury.
With that on his mind, he got up from his bed, as drowsy as ever. His monochrome voice vibrated into a meek yawn. The sour ochre colour of the enclosing walls of his room aggressed his eyes, giving them a taste such as one of lemons and vinegar. His eyes immediately puckered, still half asleep, his eyesight blurry, his attention oscitant. Nothing has changed. Not even the way his boney, slick fingers ran through his unkempt hair. Good, he is still tangible.
“I gotta repaint this thing…” the words that rolled off his grumpy lips were so tiny, so insignificant, and effaceable. And there, buried somewhere underneath his stone-veiled skin, was a need to scoff, just a bit, to brighten up the mood. Nevertheless, instead of that burning desire, he sighed nonchalantly.
Beep.
The sound of air-conditioning turning on echoed. Its warm breeze hit his clenched face. His cold skin collided with relaxing current of air. Why does it have to be nearly winter? The loneliness of it, the crystal chill, resting on top of thin ice, frozen content, all arriving. The nearly perfect description of Graham, only nearly because there are layers and layers of unreliable snow to come, yet… inside of him, they never melt, perish. Nobody knows what lies in the depth of winter. So, Graham hates it. The weather may seem true, but that is one thing he’d like to deny, defy, crush, mould into a different shape, control it, own it, change it and in the end like it.
The floor screeched under his livid feet whilst he was heading towards the bathroom to answer nature’s call.
No cats, no dogs, no pests. Alone and comfortable. The apartment might have looked shabby on the outside but it was perfectly suitable on the inside as much as that word ‘perfect’ was reliable and affirmed. Would Santa come this year finally? If so, he needs to clean the chimney.
Stretching his body, yawning with flagging refinement, washing up his face, rubbing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his rosy nose; the usual, stale morning routine.
Six months later, six months of commotion yet he was left forgotten. Another front page masked his frightened expression, his… his anger. Rage which couldn’t vent itself, rage which had been suppressed, never to surmount obstacles, left to get eaten away by false pride and tranquility he had been fighting for all this time. Erased just like that. However, he learned one thing. Two things actually, never trust bus drivers and never trust water; it gives life and it takes it away. And now, as it was gently caressing his hands, flowing over it, memories wanted to bloom the way flowers do once you water them. Nonetheless, he was far too unemotional to respond so he punched them back. What’s the use anyway? It happened. Thinking about it won’t fix whatever problem he has with that.
Turning off the water flow, his eyes nestled on the image his mirror portrayed. He had forgotten how long his eyelashes were and just by recalling that, he merely let go of his frown, blinking. Twenty three years old, nothing has changed since his high school years, well almost nothing. He grew in height a bit though but he is still considered ‘short’. He never really bothered though. Black and white. That’s the path, his shirt and pants show it too; plain. The only almost unnoticeable charm of his were his eyelashes… if you can call that a charm.
His legs moved again, pacing towards the kitchen to grab some milk before going to a place full of dark goth, semi-goth, nerdy people. The comic store. It really is comical. If we’re going to badmouth about the employees, well… there are almost none except Graham and well, the chubby old boss who considers that every character in every comic he owns is real, tangible and has a smart lesson Graham should learn… tch, that round, talking, unsymmetrical, pain in Graham’s cortex.
His shoulders shrugged as he tossed his head back, pouring milk down his throat right from the carton box. Once this highly ‘important’ and ‘memorable’ scene ended, he aimed to put milk back into the refrigerator. And… and… and… there was a bug on it! With a disgusted grimace he winced back, slipping on his pant’s sleeves and up goes the flying carton of milk! And down goes on his head! The expression on his face, laced with surprise, ridicule and misfortune, was priceless. “Tch.” He clicked his tongue, obviously displeased and… how could a man feel experiencing milk sliding down his cheeks so elegantly? Falling on his clothes so innocently, getting soaked in by the rough fabric, spreading its odour to replace the smell of peaches in his hair…
Close your eyes.
Don’t let it get to you.
Half an hour later, with an unhappy, pouting grimace plastered all over his face, he finally headed to work, having used a brand new shampoo, a white nutritious liquid secreted by mammals. And the bug… let’s just say, albeit it was painful to even look at it let alone throw it out, his hostility towards had managed to trap it and make it move out. Note to self: disinfect the house later.
Stepping out of his apartment, a sudden chill crept up his bones. The morning fog repeated itself every day, season and year; it hovered above the pavement, it masked its irregularity, it danced on the sharp morning breeze which had whipped his face.
The steps he made were small, as if he was doing it on purpose, not paying attention to the hurried people circling around him in a jolted crowd. His hands were clenched and nestled in his jacket’s pockets, warming them up. Voices piled up, each holding onto that early tone of cowed submissiveness to sleep.
He could also hear someone singing. He could feel the energy embedded into the lyrics, he could feel its honesty, was it trying to cheer up the crowd? Graham’s eyes lurked around to catch sense of the person who conveyed such pretty emotions but he couldn't decipher the face or the voice; it was like it was everywhere, but also nowhere thus, engulfed into his own world, he continued pacing and somewhere along the way, he lost sense of his actions and hummed… hummed the melody he had heard.
This music in me. Kinda there, kinda not.
Legendless
Netherworld Overlord
Ginger exited the main building of the college humming to herself. She went over the list of clubs in her mind as she tried to sort them out and figure out which ones she may prefer. She thought it would be best not to take as many as she did last year. With classes and work, added with the four clubs she had joined, she had found it hard to spend time with her boyfriend. So she decided that one or two would be best. Her mind wandered off, thinking of the people she had met last year and then to wondering about their classes and her own and if she'd like the teacher or have a repeat one. She forgot the professors she would be having and would have to relook at her schedule once again.
She got caught up in her college thoughts and wondering what she was going to have to eat tonight and maybe it would be nice to go out and eat and maybe she should call Jacó and see what he thought and...
Ginger paused for a moment. She had been walking along one of those raised part of the sidewalk that cut off a parking lot from the sidewalk without paying attention. She did not slip off, even in the sudden stop she had taken, keeping her balance before stepping down. Ginger smiled to herself a little. It seemed she had almost walked in the wrong direction and a quick look at her watch, assured her if she had kept going, she would have been late.
Taking off at a slow run, she managed to just make the light and get across the street. Sighing in relief, Ginger opened the door to the small candy shop. She got inside just as a group of kids took off. She smiled as she watched them only to be drawn back to reality by someone clearing their throat. Jenny, the store manager, nodded at her and then looked at the clock.
"Sorry about that Jenny," Ginger told her as she pulled an apron over her shirt and then tied it as she fixed a few things. She then set herself behind the counter, giving her boss a smile. "College."
"Well you weren't late, so it's okay. Now I have to go and pick some things up. Watch over the store." Jenny left to Ginger waving. The woman signed into the register before clocking in. Then she waited.
She got caught up in her college thoughts and wondering what she was going to have to eat tonight and maybe it would be nice to go out and eat and maybe she should call Jacó and see what he thought and...
Ginger paused for a moment. She had been walking along one of those raised part of the sidewalk that cut off a parking lot from the sidewalk without paying attention. She did not slip off, even in the sudden stop she had taken, keeping her balance before stepping down. Ginger smiled to herself a little. It seemed she had almost walked in the wrong direction and a quick look at her watch, assured her if she had kept going, she would have been late.
Taking off at a slow run, she managed to just make the light and get across the street. Sighing in relief, Ginger opened the door to the small candy shop. She got inside just as a group of kids took off. She smiled as she watched them only to be drawn back to reality by someone clearing their throat. Jenny, the store manager, nodded at her and then looked at the clock.
"Sorry about that Jenny," Ginger told her as she pulled an apron over her shirt and then tied it as she fixed a few things. She then set herself behind the counter, giving her boss a smile. "College."
"Well you weren't late, so it's okay. Now I have to go and pick some things up. Watch over the store." Jenny left to Ginger waving. The woman signed into the register before clocking in. Then she waited.
Kagura
Robot Sheep
When Garrick comes into the building, Logan doesn’t notice him, only another face within the group of many. Her eyes had glossed over somewhere along the way, as she seemed to space out on the coffee table in front of her. A rather plain looking thing, but her thoughts were what was rampant, trying to think of what type this man would be. It seemed her thoughts had summoned him though, as when the figure hovering over her spoke, she was snapped out of her thoughts.
Logan glanced up, giving him a rather dull look after he introduced himself and told her he would learn in name next week. Rather than telling him it, she gets up and simply offers her hand for a handshake, her eyes silently looking over him. His head motions towards the door as he tell her they’re going to go outside, and her mouth slightly clenches, she hates the cold. Not to mention she would be forced to eat, something she did sporadically on the best of days.
The man had already stuffed his hands in his pockets and was leaving though, and she knew she would be forced to keep pace. So she once again fitted her scarf over her ears and most of her face before hurriedly pulling on her jacket. Most would run whilst putting on their coats, but she was not one to brave against the cold, her buttons were secure before she strode after the man.
No use in running, she knew where he was heading anyways…
A sly smile made it to her face as she saw his figure, but it was tucked behind the scarf and nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn’t said to be good at her job for nothing, she would just have to show one Garrick Rake how professional she could be. It was unfortunate that he seemed to pay her no mind as of right yet, but she lived on, walking silently (other then the heel click) behind him.
Logan glanced up, giving him a rather dull look after he introduced himself and told her he would learn in name next week. Rather than telling him it, she gets up and simply offers her hand for a handshake, her eyes silently looking over him. His head motions towards the door as he tell her they’re going to go outside, and her mouth slightly clenches, she hates the cold. Not to mention she would be forced to eat, something she did sporadically on the best of days.
The man had already stuffed his hands in his pockets and was leaving though, and she knew she would be forced to keep pace. So she once again fitted her scarf over her ears and most of her face before hurriedly pulling on her jacket. Most would run whilst putting on their coats, but she was not one to brave against the cold, her buttons were secure before she strode after the man.
No use in running, she knew where he was heading anyways…
A sly smile made it to her face as she saw his figure, but it was tucked behind the scarf and nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn’t said to be good at her job for nothing, she would just have to show one Garrick Rake how professional she could be. It was unfortunate that he seemed to pay her no mind as of right yet, but she lived on, walking silently (other then the heel click) behind him.
ErisianDialects
The Purple Sage
Fingers would deftly roll a loose coin he had found in one pocket between them, a faintly linted mint, a discovery from his other pocket being lifted and put into his mouth. He was either extremely sure she would follow him, or else he just didn't care. It could go either way, perhaps a benefit in her case that he was paying no attention if half the rumours about him were true.
That bastard Rake was the nicest epitaph he had. It was also given to him by a client. He was not one for rules and laws. He was one for justice, or at least his views of it. He skirted the edge of most everything, pushing boundaries. He was, however a bit of a media darling at the same time. If he thought a case was worthy of him, he would make a media circus out of it. His talent with people, his tongue had inspired a new generation of ambulance chasers, who he held with an unnatural disdain, because they didn't understand how it all worked.
Public relations won or lost a case.
He would actually be walking, avoiding most forms of public transport. He only used them when he would actually be late, besides, it helped him build an appetite, and he would smile when he got to the Prongs, walking inside and straight to the bar, getting two pints and walking to a table, putting the glasses down on coasters and sitting in one of the seats, mussing up his hair and taking a long drink.
It seemed by lunch he meant something remarkably liquid. Of course he had already done more in the morning than a lot of people with his abilities did in a day when they didn't have to be in court or on a case. That was the last facet of working with him. The thing that had scared off more people who worked with him. He had two criteria for new clients. They had to be guilty, and they had to be interesting.
He looked at his watch and nod his head idly. Plenty of time. It wasn't like he had to be in court today. Of course he would nod to a couple of patrons as they walked past. Old clients from his younger days dealing with the scum of the universe, the sons and daughters of the a couple of clients. Young enough to make him sigh softly. Some people never dug themselves out of their pits.
That bastard Rake was the nicest epitaph he had. It was also given to him by a client. He was not one for rules and laws. He was one for justice, or at least his views of it. He skirted the edge of most everything, pushing boundaries. He was, however a bit of a media darling at the same time. If he thought a case was worthy of him, he would make a media circus out of it. His talent with people, his tongue had inspired a new generation of ambulance chasers, who he held with an unnatural disdain, because they didn't understand how it all worked.
Public relations won or lost a case.
He would actually be walking, avoiding most forms of public transport. He only used them when he would actually be late, besides, it helped him build an appetite, and he would smile when he got to the Prongs, walking inside and straight to the bar, getting two pints and walking to a table, putting the glasses down on coasters and sitting in one of the seats, mussing up his hair and taking a long drink.
It seemed by lunch he meant something remarkably liquid. Of course he had already done more in the morning than a lot of people with his abilities did in a day when they didn't have to be in court or on a case. That was the last facet of working with him. The thing that had scared off more people who worked with him. He had two criteria for new clients. They had to be guilty, and they had to be interesting.
He looked at his watch and nod his head idly. Plenty of time. It wasn't like he had to be in court today. Of course he would nod to a couple of patrons as they walked past. Old clients from his younger days dealing with the scum of the universe, the sons and daughters of the a couple of clients. Young enough to make him sigh softly. Some people never dug themselves out of their pits.
Kagura
Robot Sheep
There was one good outcome into following the man to the Prongs and that was Logan getting to meet his long-time client. Her first day on the job and she would practically be on the playing field, able to observe him on the job. Thinking over tactics yet again, she wondered if she should interject n conversation or just sit back and listen. Often times Logan found herself going over what she was going to say rather than saying it, though.
As she finally found her way to the Prongs, she sees Garrick at the bar grabbing two glasses before seating himself at a table. Rather than sit at the chair angled in front of the other glass of what looked to be some type of ale, Logan pulled up another. There she sat, glancing at Garrick rather plainly before she pulled down her scarf slightly, in the next movement folding her hands and crossing her knees. She wasn’t much for starting conversations, rather she just sat there and waited for the clientele of his.
As she finally found her way to the Prongs, she sees Garrick at the bar grabbing two glasses before seating himself at a table. Rather than sit at the chair angled in front of the other glass of what looked to be some type of ale, Logan pulled up another. There she sat, glancing at Garrick rather plainly before she pulled down her scarf slightly, in the next movement folding her hands and crossing her knees. She wasn’t much for starting conversations, rather she just sat there and waited for the clientele of his.
ErisianDialects
The Purple Sage
When she sat, Garrick nodded and moved the glass of the pale ale in front of her. He actually looked at her, an intense gaze, as if he was stripping her to the bone with a look, reading all her dark secrets. She would apparently pass some test, because he would nod his head. He would lean back a little in his chair.
"So, today we're meeting with Nick Hawthorne. He's one of the faces in the criminal underworld. Deals in women and drugs, mostly. Nice guy as long as you pay your debts on time. Working with me, you'll find a lot of tactics that are not looked upon well. Not illegal, but not smiled upon. Although I can still practice, you almost didn't have a partner this morning. Hence we're celebrating."
He drank some of the beer, looking at her, studying her some more with his eyes.
"So. Why did you choose law? I mean, you're good enough to model, you look healthy enough to do it and be a positive role model at least if you wanted to be famous. You're smart enough or sneaky enough to be a lawyer, which means you have criminal tendencies already, and crime pays better most of the time."
The fact he was asking her that question, not her name was yet another of his tests. He ran roughshod over his people, but mostly because they refused to stand up and be interesting enough for him to bother with. Solicitors were a dime a dozen, he could always get another one. Good solicitors who could deal with him on even a semi permanent basis were rarer, and in his eyes more valuable.
"So, today we're meeting with Nick Hawthorne. He's one of the faces in the criminal underworld. Deals in women and drugs, mostly. Nice guy as long as you pay your debts on time. Working with me, you'll find a lot of tactics that are not looked upon well. Not illegal, but not smiled upon. Although I can still practice, you almost didn't have a partner this morning. Hence we're celebrating."
He drank some of the beer, looking at her, studying her some more with his eyes.
"So. Why did you choose law? I mean, you're good enough to model, you look healthy enough to do it and be a positive role model at least if you wanted to be famous. You're smart enough or sneaky enough to be a lawyer, which means you have criminal tendencies already, and crime pays better most of the time."
The fact he was asking her that question, not her name was yet another of his tests. He ran roughshod over his people, but mostly because they refused to stand up and be interesting enough for him to bother with. Solicitors were a dime a dozen, he could always get another one. Good solicitors who could deal with him on even a semi permanent basis were rarer, and in his eyes more valuable.
Kagura
Robot Sheep
It didn’t take much, Logan simply had to count to three for the glass to be pushed her way, and she shifted it around until the handle was on her right. The stare that was sent her way was discerning to say the least, but the blonde remained rather placid, only directing a quick sideways glance at him. Eventually the man would nod and look away, and finally the glass would be brought to her mouth, taking a short sip of the cool liquid.
A rather dismayed look crossed her face as she placed it back down on the table; it tasted much like she remembered it. Bubbly, and a rather gross aftertaste, but she swallowed it down as Garrick explained one Nick Hawthrone to her. The details were a bit more than what she expected, considering she almost lost him as a partner. ..Logan was never one to have such good luck.
Then he asks her a rather different question, asking why she was a lawyer rather than a model or a criminal. She almost smiles… almost. She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be some sort of pick-up line on his end by calling her ‘good enough’ to model. There was a choice to act outwardly offended by the simple comment, or maybe even act bashful but instead, she answered rather mysteriously.
“That shouldn’t matter”
This would be the first time she talked to him, and she was already dodging his questions with a feigned smile on her face.
A rather dismayed look crossed her face as she placed it back down on the table; it tasted much like she remembered it. Bubbly, and a rather gross aftertaste, but she swallowed it down as Garrick explained one Nick Hawthrone to her. The details were a bit more than what she expected, considering she almost lost him as a partner. ..Logan was never one to have such good luck.
Then he asks her a rather different question, asking why she was a lawyer rather than a model or a criminal. She almost smiles… almost. She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be some sort of pick-up line on his end by calling her ‘good enough’ to model. There was a choice to act outwardly offended by the simple comment, or maybe even act bashful but instead, she answered rather mysteriously.
“That shouldn’t matter”
This would be the first time she talked to him, and she was already dodging his questions with a feigned smile on her face.
ErisianDialects
The Purple Sage
"Really? I disagree. If you have some sense of justice, you're in the wrong job. We don't deliver justice. I have never worked for a truly innocent client. Its why its important for me to know your motivations. I'm not looking for someone who judges ethical, moral or societal values on people. Could throw a rock and hit four holier than thous."
Garrick smiled at her, a glint in his eyes that everyone in a court hated to see. His sharklike looks that could cause fear, or at least panic in his opponents. One hand would wave vaguely around them.
"We take guilty people and set them free. They return to the streets, and we get paid. Its why I need to know if I can trust you to do the best for our clients. I don't care what your name is, I'm vaguely interested in what you look like naked, I will admit, but if you have any worries about working with me on cases where you know the client is guilty as sin, if you will not stand by and help to the best of your abilities, then you are worse than useless to me and I might as well get you reassigned or fired."
Honesty or not, he was harsh, his reputation as a prosecutor was well earned. He made points valid to him, and here at least, he was being open and honest when there was no one around who would report it back. Besides, with his record, her word against his, he would demolish any case built against him. He played the odds in his own ways. He was amused by the mysteriousness of her answer, but it was quite annoying, so he was explaining to her like a young child.
Garrick smiled at her, a glint in his eyes that everyone in a court hated to see. His sharklike looks that could cause fear, or at least panic in his opponents. One hand would wave vaguely around them.
"We take guilty people and set them free. They return to the streets, and we get paid. Its why I need to know if I can trust you to do the best for our clients. I don't care what your name is, I'm vaguely interested in what you look like naked, I will admit, but if you have any worries about working with me on cases where you know the client is guilty as sin, if you will not stand by and help to the best of your abilities, then you are worse than useless to me and I might as well get you reassigned or fired."
Honesty or not, he was harsh, his reputation as a prosecutor was well earned. He made points valid to him, and here at least, he was being open and honest when there was no one around who would report it back. Besides, with his record, her word against his, he would demolish any case built against him. He played the odds in his own ways. He was amused by the mysteriousness of her answer, but it was quite annoying, so he was explaining to her like a young child.
Kagura
Robot Sheep
An elongated finger traced the rim of her glass idly the owner being rather stone faced as Garrick Rake tried to scare her off. That was what Logan guessed he was doing, by baring all that he did with no shame; it wasn’t something she hadn’t heard before. Still, the blonde let him finish, catching the glint in his eye as she finally moved her finger away only to pick up the beverage and try again. When he was done, she contemplated the question…What were her motivations? She had gotten into this job a long time ago and all she knew was she was going to be a lawyer.
There was no real decision on whether she would fight for the innocent or the guilty; her mind had been focused on Kate until she finally got a job. Now what was she supposed to do? Kate…she wasn’t even sure what her friend wanted to do with the career. The dismissal of their friendship in early years of high school prevented them from talking about the future. Was there any real motivation to her being a solicitor…? Logan really couldn’t think of being anything else.
There was something telling her that Garrick Rake wasn’t looking for simplicity, and she bargained it was the glint in his eye that gave her a rather bemused expression. “I did not get into this job to judge people.” It was a true statement, “…and I know very well what you are famous for Mr. Rake…Do you really think I would be here if I planned on changing that?” she asked. Re-crossing her knees she eyed him “I’m hoping you’ll show me something interesting” she finished, not really sure where the statement came from.
With a rather coy smile upon remembering a comment he had made she takes another drink of the ale, the face of disgust now gone. “As for me naked, we’ll see how lunch goes” her eyebrow lifts dangerously, but in truth she is sliding on another mask.
There was no real decision on whether she would fight for the innocent or the guilty; her mind had been focused on Kate until she finally got a job. Now what was she supposed to do? Kate…she wasn’t even sure what her friend wanted to do with the career. The dismissal of their friendship in early years of high school prevented them from talking about the future. Was there any real motivation to her being a solicitor…? Logan really couldn’t think of being anything else.
There was something telling her that Garrick Rake wasn’t looking for simplicity, and she bargained it was the glint in his eye that gave her a rather bemused expression. “I did not get into this job to judge people.” It was a true statement, “…and I know very well what you are famous for Mr. Rake…Do you really think I would be here if I planned on changing that?” she asked. Re-crossing her knees she eyed him “I’m hoping you’ll show me something interesting” she finished, not really sure where the statement came from.
With a rather coy smile upon remembering a comment he had made she takes another drink of the ale, the face of disgust now gone. “As for me naked, we’ll see how lunch goes” her eyebrow lifts dangerously, but in truth she is sliding on another mask.