We all masturbate, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's also something most prefer to keep private. But sometimes, people forget to knock while we're in the middle of things, and awkwardness ensues.
* Post with your character's name and fandom in the subject line * Others reply, stumbling in on you. * You pick a reaction from the list below. (Or roll 1-10!) * PROFIT!
REACTIONS:
➊ EMBARRASSMENT Yeah, someone just caught you in a very private act and you kind of wish the ground would swallow you up. Now.
➋ ANGER How dare someone barge in on you without knocking! You'll give them a piece of your mind right now.
➌ EXCITEMENT/EXHIBITIONISM happens to be a major turn-on for you, so you'll just continue. Maybe even ask them to give you a hand, you never know...
➍ APATHY Big deal, it's not like they've been living in a bubble where they never knew masturbation existed, and if they were they had to find out about it sometime.
➎ SQUICK Either it was a family member who just walked in on you or you just feel so utterly dirty at having been caught doing something so personal.
➏ DELAYED reaction You didn't even notice they were there until after you finished.
➐ DERAILED REACTION Oh no you've been--what is that on their head? Wait, the world's ending now? D-did you just see that unicorn? Worry about being caught later, figure out what the hell is going on first.
➑ FRUSTRATION COME ON, EVERY TIME!
➒ RELIEF Thank GOODNESS someone came by! Otherwise you'd have had to stop and go grab that toy/pillow/remote for the annoying stereo yourself. Also they could maybe swap discs because this movie isn't really doing it for you. What do you mean it's inappropriate? It's not like you're asking them to watch.
Awkward was as good a word as for it. There were better. There had to be. But if he was going to get a chair, that would take a little bit of time. Just a bit. He'd come back, too. Unless it was a lie and he was scooting out for good, but then again...who could possibly pay him as well as Justin Hammer? Unless Tony Stark came along and told him to quit it and offered more, well...he was pretty much in as best he could be.
"That'd be. Great. Yeah. I'll be...right here."
Captain Obvious. Yes, he knew. But he was a little scatterbrained at the moment, and who could blame him?
Fortunately, it hadn't been a total deterrent, and he managed to completely get rid of the physical sign of his frustration, clean himself off, and make himself far more presentable in less than four minutes. Shameful? Maybe. But he had a deadline (self-imposed), God damn it, and he always made them, hell or highwater.
He took his time and did so intentionally. Hammer's privacy, for the moment, was his utmost concern. Hammer's privacy and his own sensibilities, what of them were being salvaged.
Seven minutes later, he was returning down the corridor with a wheeled office chair being pushed in front of him one-handed and, seeing Hammer a bit less distracted, he sat down feeling more at ease within himself. As at-ease as he could be, anyway.
"I have reason to believe," he began without any further hesitation, "that we can work out a plea deal. I've already started the paperwork."
He was indeed done and had put himself back in order, physically and mentally and in every other way imaginable. He heard the wheels of the chair moving, so he knew he was being honest.
And if there was one thing Justin liked? It was honesty. Even if he didn't do so well with that himself. He tried, God damn it.
The news is unexpected, but Justin takes it to be a good thing. He swings to sit on the edge of his bed, feet in socks and nothing more. There was some strange idea that he didn't need shoelaces, because clearly he was so much of a coward he'd try something very awful with them. He wasn't a coward for fleeing a stage full of drones gone awry and War Machine being overridden. He was being smart.
"So it's more than reason to believe if you've already started the paperwork, isn't it? It's good reason to believe, right? I mean...that sounds great. More than great."
Asking about SHIELD is on the tip of his tongue. It really is. But the more out of speech, the more out of mind. Is that cowardly? Maybe. But if it means he's away from then, he'll be that coward.
"You said yourself that if you had known what was being planned that you never would've broken him out of jail. Your intent was to upstage Tony Stark, not to lead a strike against American soil." Even if Hotch tended to think that that meant he was criminally negligent, but that wasn't his job this time.
He had to keep in mind that this was for Jack. His son needed those treatments.
"They don't have a way to prove that what happened was intentional on your part. Especially with Colonel Rhodes having been there when Vanko made his final statement. The most they can say about you is that you were kept ignorant, but a case can be made for criminal negligence as well as the charges for the initial breakout. But I've come up with an idea."
He passed the papers between the bars, all impeccably typed, printed, in ideal legalese.
"You tell them how you found out how to break Vanko out, how they got into the prison, expose the security holes, and your charges will be seriously lessened. The prosecution has agreed."
Simply by listening to him, Justin knows he's snagged someone who's very good at his job. He's not so sure about this illness his son has, but if he can get him a solid defense, if he can get Justin out of the hands of SHIELD? His son will be taken care of for the rest of his life. So will his dad. He'd never have to work a day again if he didn't want to. Of course, legally, he might not be able to take that money and walk, but, well, if he wanted to? Justin wouldn't mind ponying up a nice sum that made it so he could live for the rest of his life without needing to worry about rent, money to cover cars, new clothes for a growing boy, and so forth.
"You mean tell them who I paid to get that taken care of."
It's not a question. It's a statement. They want names, as far as Justin can tell. Names, and there's one name he's intent to give no one at all...at least, not until the bastard is running for reelection. Which may fall back poorly on Justin, but it would be enough to make him feel like he had some sort of control over a situation gone totally awry.
Watching him pin a medal on Tony fucking Stark had been the icing on the cake. He wouldn't let the law take care of Senator Stern. Not right away, at least. But, later, when he was needing votes and kissing babies on the forehead and...
"Names, dates, any chatter you remember about methods, anything that can expose security holes or criminal organisations that the government has been going after and hasn't gotten yet. You might still have to serve some time, but more on the order of four to six months instead of fifteen years." He didn't agree with it, entirely. Breaking someone - especially someone like Vanko - out of prison was a big deal. But there was, he knew, a difference between the initial idea and the action.
Even now, looking at Hammer, he saw someone who was scared out of his skin beneath all of the natural bravado. Scared for very good reason, in Hotch's opinion. But his plans hadn't included weapons of mass destruction unleashed on US soil. His plans had just included some one-upmanship in a competitive field, where Stark generally tended to win, time after time.
In Hammer, Hotch saw a little of his brother.
"It's a huge reduction in sentence," he said, "and it's practically guaranteed you'll get to subtract time served. You'll also be serving at Club Fed, which is an easier ride than any state-run facility. Except for the quality of the food and clothing, you could consider it an extended vacation, and then you'll walk away a free man."
Justin knew what he must have been thinking. He must have been thinking that such a thing was immoral, that Justin having so much money meaning he got off so lightly was a crime in and of itself. And when he'd found out about a kid who needed treatment, it wasn't so much buying him as it was...taking advantage. But if they both got out of it with what they wanted, what was the real harm? Justin would never do well in a general populous. He didn't trust SHIELD.
He'd not had a choice.
He liked what he was hearing. He definitely did. He was quiet for a moment, however, torn between moving from "safe" territory of work and questions about how his son was doing. If he showed genuine concern, it might confuse the lawyer. If he said it the wrong way, it might seem like he was just reminding him of what he could expect in return for services rendered.
"That sounds perfect. I'll give you all the information you could ever want, no problem." But if he could keep Stern out of the equation...that would be the best. Then again, if he kept it away and tried to put it years later, that could go poorly for him, too. "I'm not overloading you with paperwork, am I?"
It was genuine concern. He'd hate for him to get ill from working too hard and too much. He had a feeling that a lawyer would be used to it, but still...he needed him on his A game. If it meant he had an extra night or two in a crappy bed, oh well.
When Hammer agreed, Hotch handed him a legal pad through the bars, as well as a pre-approved pen. The guards had told him they had put his client on suicide watch, but a plain Bic pen was on the list of allowable, and that was what he handed over. "Don't worry about the paperwork. I had worse in torts classes while I was in school. And if I didn't want paperwork, I wouldn't have become a lawyer. That's practically all it is."
Paperwork. Digital work. Paper was harder to hack, anymore, and computers still weren't perfectly reliable and probably never would be. Even with Stark technology on the ground, power outages still happened.
It was true that he'd been working hard on this case, but it was because, no matter what, he was going to give his best. He was already being written about in the tabloids as Justin Hammer's pocket lawyer, and as terrible as that might be, he wasn't going to do this half-assed.
And Vanko was ten times the criminal Justin Hammer was. It was hard to be upset that he'd been killed in his own folly, even for someone who believed in justice the way Hotch did.
He took the pad and pen without hesitation. If he needed his signature on something, he'd get it. Sure, Justin would read it over, but he highly doubted this guy was trying to work some loophole in that would screw him over. Sick kids, weren't they a hell of a thing to have to deal with?
"I know you feel. Running my own company...you can't put everything on a computer because even if you have great generators, things could end up lost without a chance to get them back. As odd as it is in the world, paper? Still a great way to go about it."
Suicide watch. Yes, he'd been put on it, for reasons he'd never be able to understand. Maybe it was something else they could do to humiliate him further. Maybe they were just thinking a rich man faced with prison time would rather take the coward's way out. Or they could have just not been thinking at all!
"Don't push yourself too hard. I'd hate for you to get sick from lack of sleep or whatnot on my account."
He would. The only thing he was losing sleep over was if he was turning out like his father. And what his career would be like after all this. But he couldn't let himself dwell on that. He could go back to prosecution, surely. Maybe he'd have to move, but that would mean Jack could be closer to a good hospital.
He'd manage.
"Read through the printout I handed you - it's the plea deal I've told you about. If there's anything in there you're worried about, show me, I'll either explain it or correct it and bring another version for your approval tomorrow. Then go ahead and write out your information for the deal - names, everything you overheard, all of that - and I'll get that typed up and bring it in for your signature."
If he said he'd be fine, Justin wouldn't press further. He needed him to be as alert as he possibly could be, and he had a feeling that Hotchner knew as much. Not just for Justin to come out of this as good as he possibly could, but so that his wallet depleted just a bit in the department of charity. He wasn't going to see to his son's treatments because he got him off the hook, but because he knew about it and was grateful. At least, that's the way he'd spin it.
Justin wasn't a bad man. He had done bad things in the name of envy, sure. But he wasn't bad.
"I can do that." Captain Obvious, Justin Hammer's alter ego. Of course he could do that; what else was he going to do? He glanced down at it, pen tapping against the side for lack of anything better to do with it at the moment. "I'll have it done by the end of the night. I like to be thorough with my reading. Is there anything I can do for you before you go?"
"Your accountants are making sure I get paid for my hours, and my secretary is making sure I record my hours correctly," he said, "so you're already doing something for me."
Hotchner fastened his briefcase. He'd done what he'd come to do. "Tomorrow, when I come, I may have the paperwork from the prosecution. I wouldn't expect it, if I were you. They're dragging their feet, but they know that what I've told you is the best outcome they're going to get."
He knew. If he were the prosecution and the defense came to him with this argument, he'd hate it, but he'd take it, because otherwise, the defense could argue and surely achieve even less from the jury. This way, it was the best for both parties instead of only the best for one.
"I suppose I should be grateful that your usual legal team turned this one down."
Justin couldn't imagine any attorney in the world would be happy with his case. That was, any attorney who didn't need a little extra cash. From avarice, he would actually be less inclined to deal with them. But here was a man with a sick son, a man who clearly had morals, and he was pushing them to the side (or meddling with them, Justin wasn't sure) in order for the greater good of his family.
Everyone had a breaking point. Before Ivan Vanko, Justin had been certain that anyone without a substantial bank account could be bought. While he didn't like to take advantage of that if he could help it (really, springing Vanko out had come from a deep sense of envy that had almost led him to a breaking point that involved far less illegal activities and far more sleepless nights filled with jealousy, spite, and anger), but was it really taking advantage of this Aaron Hotchner if they both came out the better for it?
Then again, maybe that was the justification a man doing something not quite moral would come up with.
"My usual legal team seems to have scattered to the winds as of late." Justin paid his team very well, and he always had. They had no reason to need more monetary reimbursement, not after years being in his service. There was a price for most every man; he just assumed he'd already paid them off long ago. "Honestly? I'm grateful myself. If—ah—if your pay is not what you need, do not hesitate to ask for me. I am more than willing to give what you require, and you needn't state a reason."
If his son's hospital bills were covered but Hotchner wanted a new car, all he needed to do was ask. If he wanted a new house to go with it. If he wanted a pool, a hot tub, a jacuzzi, a full remodeling of his living space...all he would ever have to do was ask. Not just in a few months, but ever. Justin wouldn't give him a free ride for the rest of his life, but whatever bumps could come up along the way that he couldn't cover without fear of debt? Justin would be right there with a check, slipped inside a discreet envelope, and not a question would be asked.
But Aaron stood and put a hand on the chair back, ready to push it back out into the offices. "I'm not greedy, Mister Hammer," he said. "The pay you're giving me for this is enough."
Enough to pay what his insurance wouldn't. Enough to pay what Haley's insurance wouldn't. Enough that he wouldn't have to sell his house (he'd already sold his car, bought an older one, a used one, that he'd found for just a couple thousand dollars, but damn it, Jack was going to live). And the pay, really... It was steep.
It was steep for a reason. After the scattering of Hammer's lawyers to the four winds, everyone in the law profession had seen it as a sinking ship and the rats were bailing out. They'd told him he was going to sink his career going defense from prosecution, going willingly into this case.
But none of them knew about Jack. He would keep it that way.
"Read all that over tonight," he said, "and let me know if there are any changes I need to make. I'll be back tomorrow."
He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. What else was he going to do over the course of the night, stare at the walls, one in turn and then the other? Look at his unlaced shoes and try to get used to walking in shoes that weren't held together properly? Sit and think on his crimes and do his best to look full of regret and sorrow whenever anyone else happened to come by so they could make a note of it? Let himself be watched doing absolutely nothing at all? It's laughable, the idea that Justin would put anything necessary off to, essentially, do absolutely nothing.
But it's hardly a matter that needs to be laughed about to make it more obvious.
"You got it." He smacked the papers against the palm of his hand idly, taking a moment to puzzle out if they needed to go over anything else. "What time tomorrow?"
He needed something to look forward to. Odd that it would ever be a visit from a lawyer, but when they lived in a world where a man could fly in a metal suit...well, odd was quickly being replaced.
Time. He hadn't figured on an exact time, but now that it was mentioned to him, he looked at his watch. "Taking into account that I'll have some discussions with the prosecution tomorrow morning, I'll be able to be here after lunch."
Unless the meeting went over, which he really hoped it wouldn't. The prosecution knew what he knew. The prosecution knew what he was going to be giving them. But they enjoyed dragging things out. Inconveniencing him.
They had the right, of course. But that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
"I'll talk to the guards about bringing in outside food," he offered as well. "I know what the meals are like in here."
Meals from outside? Good God, that would be like manna from heaven. Not that Justin couldn't get whatever he wanted with a few well-placed bills, but the idea of having it brought to him without his needing to shove around his wealth was nice. It was, well, humane. He hadn't been getting a lot of that lately, and if the situation was less dire, he might have smiled.
As it was, his lips twitched upwards. Just a tad, just on one side, but it was there.
"That'd be great. Anything works. I don't have any food allergies. Chinese? Chinese is good, if you like Chinese. But, yeah: anything works."
He smacks the reading material against his palm once more, lips pursing as though to think of anything else he needs. Shoelaces? Yes. But he won't be getting them until he leaves, he knows, so it's pointless to even bring them up.
"I'll get on this immediately and see you tomorrow, then."
Chinese? Well, that was easy enough - easy enough to be done without even thinking about it, even if he was sure he'd end up hitting a buffet and bringing back two take-out boxes. But Chinese...
No problem.
"Any preferences for dishes while I'm at it?" It wouldn't hurt to be a little nice to his client. Especially since Hammer was already being put through the wringer.
It was out of his mouth without filter to stop it. Chinese noodles. The man had the world on a string on his finger, financially speaking, and all he could immediately think of was noodles. No fancy names to run off his tongue with practiced ease. No. Just noodles.
"Anything with noodles. And a bowl of rice would be great. Uh...pepper and chicken, other than that. I'm easy to please, really. Chinese in general, whatever you get, it'll be fine."
It'll be fine. The food would be fine, whatever it was. His lawyer would be fine, as long as he pulled through (and even if he didn't, Justin wouldn't leave him out cold; he tried his best). And Justin, if he kept repeating it? He might be fine, too.
"Noodles. Pepper and chicken. And rice." He'd try to remember that. Noodles, he was sure he could handle. Lo mein was a favourite in his house, so he'd need no reminder of that. But peppers were off the menu for Jack, so that might be a bit more difficult.
He'd make the effort.
"I'll be back tomorrow."
And with that, he turned to push the chair back out into the office he'd gotten it from, his briefcase in hand. It would be an interesting overnight, to say the least. He was already making bets with himself on how many phone calls he'd get before morning.
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bakerstreet2013-06-25 08:28 pm
no subject
"That'd be. Great. Yeah. I'll be...right here."
Captain Obvious. Yes, he knew. But he was a little scatterbrained at the moment, and who could blame him?
Fortunately, it hadn't been a total deterrent, and he managed to completely get rid of the physical sign of his frustration, clean himself off, and make himself far more presentable in less than four minutes. Shameful? Maybe. But he had a deadline (self-imposed), God damn it, and he always made them, hell or highwater.
no subject
Seven minutes later, he was returning down the corridor with a wheeled office chair being pushed in front of him one-handed and, seeing Hammer a bit less distracted, he sat down feeling more at ease within himself. As at-ease as he could be, anyway.
"I have reason to believe," he began without any further hesitation, "that we can work out a plea deal. I've already started the paperwork."
no subject
And if there was one thing Justin liked? It was honesty. Even if he didn't do so well with that himself. He tried, God damn it.
The news is unexpected, but Justin takes it to be a good thing. He swings to sit on the edge of his bed, feet in socks and nothing more. There was some strange idea that he didn't need shoelaces, because clearly he was so much of a coward he'd try something very awful with them. He wasn't a coward for fleeing a stage full of drones gone awry and War Machine being overridden. He was being smart.
"So it's more than reason to believe if you've already started the paperwork, isn't it? It's good reason to believe, right? I mean...that sounds great. More than great."
Asking about SHIELD is on the tip of his tongue. It really is. But the more out of speech, the more out of mind. Is that cowardly? Maybe. But if it means he's away from then, he'll be that coward.
no subject
He had to keep in mind that this was for Jack. His son needed those treatments.
"They don't have a way to prove that what happened was intentional on your part. Especially with Colonel Rhodes having been there when Vanko made his final statement. The most they can say about you is that you were kept ignorant, but a case can be made for criminal negligence as well as the charges for the initial breakout. But I've come up with an idea."
He passed the papers between the bars, all impeccably typed, printed, in ideal legalese.
"You tell them how you found out how to break Vanko out, how they got into the prison, expose the security holes, and your charges will be seriously lessened. The prosecution has agreed."
no subject
"You mean tell them who I paid to get that taken care of."
It's not a question. It's a statement. They want names, as far as Justin can tell. Names, and there's one name he's intent to give no one at all...at least, not until the bastard is running for reelection. Which may fall back poorly on Justin, but it would be enough to make him feel like he had some sort of control over a situation gone totally awry.
Watching him pin a medal on Tony fucking Stark had been the icing on the cake. He wouldn't let the law take care of Senator Stern. Not right away, at least. But, later, when he was needing votes and kissing babies on the forehead and...
"I can do that."
no subject
Even now, looking at Hammer, he saw someone who was scared out of his skin beneath all of the natural bravado. Scared for very good reason, in Hotch's opinion. But his plans hadn't included weapons of mass destruction unleashed on US soil. His plans had just included some one-upmanship in a competitive field, where Stark generally tended to win, time after time.
In Hammer, Hotch saw a little of his brother.
"It's a huge reduction in sentence," he said, "and it's practically guaranteed you'll get to subtract time served. You'll also be serving at Club Fed, which is an easier ride than any state-run facility. Except for the quality of the food and clothing, you could consider it an extended vacation, and then you'll walk away a free man."
no subject
He'd not had a choice.
He liked what he was hearing. He definitely did. He was quiet for a moment, however, torn between moving from "safe" territory of work and questions about how his son was doing. If he showed genuine concern, it might confuse the lawyer. If he said it the wrong way, it might seem like he was just reminding him of what he could expect in return for services rendered.
"That sounds perfect. I'll give you all the information you could ever want, no problem." But if he could keep Stern out of the equation...that would be the best. Then again, if he kept it away and tried to put it years later, that could go poorly for him, too. "I'm not overloading you with paperwork, am I?"
It was genuine concern. He'd hate for him to get ill from working too hard and too much. He had a feeling that a lawyer would be used to it, but still...he needed him on his A game. If it meant he had an extra night or two in a crappy bed, oh well.
no subject
Paperwork. Digital work. Paper was harder to hack, anymore, and computers still weren't perfectly reliable and probably never would be. Even with Stark technology on the ground, power outages still happened.
It was true that he'd been working hard on this case, but it was because, no matter what, he was going to give his best. He was already being written about in the tabloids as Justin Hammer's pocket lawyer, and as terrible as that might be, he wasn't going to do this half-assed.
And Vanko was ten times the criminal Justin Hammer was. It was hard to be upset that he'd been killed in his own folly, even for someone who believed in justice the way Hotch did.
no subject
"I know you feel. Running my own company...you can't put everything on a computer because even if you have great generators, things could end up lost without a chance to get them back. As odd as it is in the world, paper? Still a great way to go about it."
Suicide watch. Yes, he'd been put on it, for reasons he'd never be able to understand. Maybe it was something else they could do to humiliate him further. Maybe they were just thinking a rich man faced with prison time would rather take the coward's way out. Or they could have just not been thinking at all!
"Don't push yourself too hard. I'd hate for you to get sick from lack of sleep or whatnot on my account."
no subject
He would. The only thing he was losing sleep over was if he was turning out like his father. And what his career would be like after all this. But he couldn't let himself dwell on that. He could go back to prosecution, surely. Maybe he'd have to move, but that would mean Jack could be closer to a good hospital.
He'd manage.
"Read through the printout I handed you - it's the plea deal I've told you about. If there's anything in there you're worried about, show me, I'll either explain it or correct it and bring another version for your approval tomorrow. Then go ahead and write out your information for the deal - names, everything you overheard, all of that - and I'll get that typed up and bring it in for your signature."
no subject
Justin wasn't a bad man. He had done bad things in the name of envy, sure. But he wasn't bad.
"I can do that." Captain Obvious, Justin Hammer's alter ego. Of course he could do that; what else was he going to do? He glanced down at it, pen tapping against the side for lack of anything better to do with it at the moment. "I'll have it done by the end of the night. I like to be thorough with my reading. Is there anything I can do for you before you go?"
no subject
Hotchner fastened his briefcase. He'd done what he'd come to do. "Tomorrow, when I come, I may have the paperwork from the prosecution. I wouldn't expect it, if I were you. They're dragging their feet, but they know that what I've told you is the best outcome they're going to get."
He knew. If he were the prosecution and the defense came to him with this argument, he'd hate it, but he'd take it, because otherwise, the defense could argue and surely achieve even less from the jury. This way, it was the best for both parties instead of only the best for one.
"I suppose I should be grateful that your usual legal team turned this one down."
no subject
Everyone had a breaking point. Before Ivan Vanko, Justin had been certain that anyone without a substantial bank account could be bought. While he didn't like to take advantage of that if he could help it (really, springing Vanko out had come from a deep sense of envy that had almost led him to a breaking point that involved far less illegal activities and far more sleepless nights filled with jealousy, spite, and anger), but was it really taking advantage of this Aaron Hotchner if they both came out the better for it?
Then again, maybe that was the justification a man doing something not quite moral would come up with.
"My usual legal team seems to have scattered to the winds as of late." Justin paid his team very well, and he always had. They had no reason to need more monetary reimbursement, not after years being in his service. There was a price for most every man; he just assumed he'd already paid them off long ago. "Honestly? I'm grateful myself. If—ah—if your pay is not what you need, do not hesitate to ask for me. I am more than willing to give what you require, and you needn't state a reason."
If his son's hospital bills were covered but Hotchner wanted a new car, all he needed to do was ask. If he wanted a new house to go with it. If he wanted a pool, a hot tub, a jacuzzi, a full remodeling of his living space...all he would ever have to do was ask. Not just in a few months, but ever. Justin wouldn't give him a free ride for the rest of his life, but whatever bumps could come up along the way that he couldn't cover without fear of debt? Justin would be right there with a check, slipped inside a discreet envelope, and not a question would be asked.
no subject
Enough to pay what his insurance wouldn't. Enough to pay what Haley's insurance wouldn't. Enough that he wouldn't have to sell his house (he'd already sold his car, bought an older one, a used one, that he'd found for just a couple thousand dollars, but damn it, Jack was going to live). And the pay, really... It was steep.
It was steep for a reason. After the scattering of Hammer's lawyers to the four winds, everyone in the law profession had seen it as a sinking ship and the rats were bailing out. They'd told him he was going to sink his career going defense from prosecution, going willingly into this case.
But none of them knew about Jack. He would keep it that way.
"Read all that over tonight," he said, "and let me know if there are any changes I need to make. I'll be back tomorrow."
no subject
He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. What else was he going to do over the course of the night, stare at the walls, one in turn and then the other? Look at his unlaced shoes and try to get used to walking in shoes that weren't held together properly? Sit and think on his crimes and do his best to look full of regret and sorrow whenever anyone else happened to come by so they could make a note of it? Let himself be watched doing absolutely nothing at all? It's laughable, the idea that Justin would put anything necessary off to, essentially, do absolutely nothing.
But it's hardly a matter that needs to be laughed about to make it more obvious.
"You got it." He smacked the papers against the palm of his hand idly, taking a moment to puzzle out if they needed to go over anything else. "What time tomorrow?"
He needed something to look forward to. Odd that it would ever be a visit from a lawyer, but when they lived in a world where a man could fly in a metal suit...well, odd was quickly being replaced.
no subject
Unless the meeting went over, which he really hoped it wouldn't. The prosecution knew what he knew. The prosecution knew what he was going to be giving them. But they enjoyed dragging things out. Inconveniencing him.
They had the right, of course. But that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
"I'll talk to the guards about bringing in outside food," he offered as well. "I know what the meals are like in here."
A hint of humanity. Maybe that would help, too.
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As it was, his lips twitched upwards. Just a tad, just on one side, but it was there.
"That'd be great. Anything works. I don't have any food allergies. Chinese? Chinese is good, if you like Chinese. But, yeah: anything works."
He smacks the reading material against his palm once more, lips pursing as though to think of anything else he needs. Shoelaces? Yes. But he won't be getting them until he leaves, he knows, so it's pointless to even bring them up.
"I'll get on this immediately and see you tomorrow, then."
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No problem.
"Any preferences for dishes while I'm at it?" It wouldn't hurt to be a little nice to his client. Especially since Hammer was already being put through the wringer.
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It was out of his mouth without filter to stop it. Chinese noodles. The man had the world on a string on his finger, financially speaking, and all he could immediately think of was noodles. No fancy names to run off his tongue with practiced ease. No. Just noodles.
"Anything with noodles. And a bowl of rice would be great. Uh...pepper and chicken, other than that. I'm easy to please, really. Chinese in general, whatever you get, it'll be fine."
It'll be fine. The food would be fine, whatever it was. His lawyer would be fine, as long as he pulled through (and even if he didn't, Justin wouldn't leave him out cold; he tried his best). And Justin, if he kept repeating it? He might be fine, too.
Might.
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He'd make the effort.
"I'll be back tomorrow."
And with that, he turned to push the chair back out into the office he'd gotten it from, his briefcase in hand. It would be an interesting overnight, to say the least. He was already making bets with himself on how many phone calls he'd get before morning.