49,014
Just under one thousand words left to write. I can't believe it.
49,014 / 50,000
(98.0%)
“They’re letting me meet with Vincent.”
The reaction that comes from those six words is exactly one that he had expected, that is to be expected. Justin’s head snaps up, eyes wide and color drained. Brian slicks his tongue over his teeth and doesn’t say another word, knows that the blond would just interrupt them, anyway.
“What? Why? Why would they let you do that?”
Brian runs a hand through his hair, answers, “I don’t know. All his attorney told me was that he’s the one who wanted to talk to me.” He explains, trying not to shrug. Justin begins to look sick. “Adeline got the call this morning, they made an appointment for next week.”
“Christ.” Justin mutters, shaking his head, leaning forward in his seat so he can run his hands through his hair. In his own chair Brian hesitates, begins to wonder what the etiquette is with a client’s who’s mouth you just had your tongue in.
He was never that good with ethics.
So he gets up and after hovering around the side of the desk, finally just bites the fucking bullet and crosses over until he’s standing beside Justin’s chair. Kneels down and waits until Justin’s looking at him before he bothers to say anything.
“You aren’t going to lose.”
Justin manages a nod that Brian can tell is forced. Doesn’t say the ‘I know,’ but they both hear it. They both know it’s there. Instead the blond shakes his head again and then leans forward, resting his chin on Brian’s shoulder.
And Brian has always been a sucker for certain things that included this boy.
…
“If you guys are done, Constantin is here to pick Justin up.” Adeline interrupts, her head popping around the edge of the door without a single introductory word. Brian looks up from the computer screen, glances over at Justin.
Justin who is still sitting in the same chair, biting his nails.
“We’ll be down in a minute, just tell them to wait.” He finally says, twisting his chair around until he can see Adeline’s face. Her eye makeup is brown and smeared underneath her eyes, and he loves it.
She nods, and closes the door as she leaves.
“You’ll be back in the morning.” Brian begins, squinting over the edge of the desk for reasons he hasn’t even figured out yet. “I’m sending a car to get you at seven. They wouldn’t let me pull you out earlier.”
Justin nods and shifts around, beginning to pull his jacket on with a half-assed effort.
“Justin.”
The blond looks up and manages a small smile, and yeah it’s barely there, but it isn’t forced. Brian doesn’t see the Pinocchio strings that hold the edges up.
“Yeah?” He asks, voice small and breakable and Brian fucking hates it, knows that he should have just not said anything.
Shakes his head, mostly at himself.
“You’ll be fine.”
And then he’s getting out of the chair and going around the desk, and his fingers are in Justin’s hair and they’re kissing, and maybe it’s a goodbye but it might also be something else. Justin is completely pliable after a moment, slides his arm around Brian’s waist until his cold hand is warm under the back of Brian’s pressed shirt.
“Okay.” He whispers, nods. He leans in and then pulls away, leading Brian over to the office door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
…
“Brian Kinney.” He states, extending his hand, holding it still in the air. The other man shakes it wearily, looking between Brian and the man standing beside him, their briefcases almost matching -- except for the missing thousand dollars between the two objects. “My client opted out of the meeting today, though I have to say that I’m surprised to see you here.”
The man shakes his head and lowers his hand to the side, watching as Brian greets the prison official the same way, merely out of habit.
“I’m protecting my own client’s best interests.” The other lawyer says, and Brian almost rolls his eyes. However you can protect the interests of someone who has no chance in hell of winning a case is completely lost on him.
But Brian grins, says, “I am too.”
…
“You will not speak unless spoken to, and if at any point you -- I’ll put it simple -- piss me off, the guard will escort you back to your cell.” He explains, raising his eyebrows as he shuffles through a short stack of papers sitting before him, all stats and faxes on the man he’s positioned across from.
He’s completely disgusting. The perfect grease ball in any high budget film, complete with thinning hair and hollow eyes. Brian shakes the automatic frown off of his face, and replaces it with something neutral.
“If you feel at all threatened during any point in the interview, your lawyer will assist you. Is this understood?”
The man behind the thick glass pane nods once.
“Good. I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you. I’m Brian Kinney.”
…
“I’ve spoken with my lawyers, and we want to offer you a deal.”
Brian’s eyebrows knot together as he leans back in the plastic chair, hands folded over his stomach with one foot propped up on the counter that separates them. He raises one, and tries not to laugh out loud.
“Do tell, Mr. Zambino… Can I call you Vincent?” The man shakes his head and sends an obvious glare, almost invisible indents making themselves known on his swollen cheek bones. Brian doesn’t know if it’s leftovers from a brawl, or fat. “Vincent it is.”
They hold each other’s stares for a few moments, before Zambino breaks it and pauses, finally says, “We’re willing to offer a plea bargain with you, before the trial begins.”
Brian wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation -- the lack of appropriate and professionalism making the back of his throat sore.
“Really.” He manages, the corners of his lips beginning to twitch.
Vincent nods carefully, continues, “Yes. I’m willing to plead guilty to one count of false imprisonment, and take a term of five years in a high security prison. In exchange I request that your client drops all other charges against me.”
“You’re fucking…” Brian trails off, and looks between Vincent and the team of lawyers standing behind him, reflecting in the glass. “You’re absolutely fucking kidding me, right?”
Maintaining his expression, Vincent shakes his head. Brian opens his mouth, trying to speak, and it takes a second longer than he wishes it would before the words actually fall out. Tumble out.
“No. You don’t have yourself a plea bargain, Mr. Zambino. I’ll tell you what you do have, however.” Brian smiles, reaching down into his briefcase. He pulls a piece of paper out and waves it around in the air, the sarcastic sneer on his lips growing into a full blown grin. “These are the charges that my client will be laying against you. Do you want me to go alphabetically, or in order of sentencing?”
Vincent shakes his head and leans closer to the window, “Mr. Kinney, if you’ll listen to my lawyers and I for a moment, you’ll see-“
“Aggravated assault, battery, false imprisonment-“
The man, obviously surprised at the sudden outburst, tries to get up from his chair -- immediately, however, the two guards standing behind him move forward, ready to run. Vincent is still trying to sputter, “Mr. Kinney, please-“
“Negligence, grievous bodily harm… Do you want to hear the sexual offences that will be pressed against you, Mr. Zambino, or should we leave those for another day?”
Vincent presses his chubby hands to his forehead, and Brian watches as his lawyers begin to move in, whispering to him, hissing.
So Brian raises his voice, and presses a little harder.
“Sexual exploitation of a young person, attempting to obtain sexual services from a child, corrupting a child, anal intercourse with a child -- of course you’ll be added to the sex offender’s registry, both in the United States and Germany.”
The small team of lawyers are shaking their heads and motioning for the guards to come and escort their client back to his cell. Brian stands up from his chair, still breathing one pace faster than usual, fists clenched. He stares at Zambino, waits until the old man looks him in the eyes, before he says, voice perfectly clear --
“My client will see you at the trial. This meeting is finished.”
The echo of the lock snapping on his briefcase bounces across the room.
…
When he picks Justin up from the centre on his way back, his knuckles are white around the steering wheel, and whether he’d actually ever admit it or not, his teeth are tight together in the back of his mouth.
“Hey.” Justin smiles, dropping down into the front seat. He throws his on its way to being ratty bag at his feet and reaches back for his belt, pulling it across his chest.
Brian forces a half smile and pulls away from the curb, not even bothering to look back and see whether or not Janice still watches the kid leave. If he could laugh without saying it, he might express that he feels as though the woman is getting too attached to her appointed client.
“So did you go to the meeting?” Justin asks, all innocent voice and raised eyebrows. Brian glances over at him and offers an expression that almost explains everything going through his head. “Was it bad? Do I want to know? Was he gross?”
Smirking a little despite himself, Brian nods.
“He was definitely gross.”
Justin wrinkles his nose and turns to watch out the window as they drive by a tourist stop Brian has made fun of years. Some guy standing on the street corner, selling miniature clay versions of the Berlin wall, all cracked and painted with nail polish. So maybe Brian laughs at it too, but what the fuck ever.
“He wanted to come to an agreement.” Brian explains, glancing over at Justin as they come to a red light and the car slows down to a stop. The blond raises his eyebrows again and looks mildly surprised. “He wanted to plead guilty to one count of false imprisonment.”
Justin’s completely silent for a moment, before he smiles and asks, “What?”
“Needless to say,” Brian begins, pausing when the light flickers to green. “I told them that my client didn’t accept the offer.”
…
“What does this say?” Justin asks, holding up a piece of paper that’s obviously been photocopied a hundred times over. There are thick black lines and dots that look like white television snow, and even if Justin understood German, he doesn’t exactly think that he’d be able to read this.
Brian glances over from the computer screen.
“What?” He asks, only half interested and barely paying attention.
Tapping the paper, Justin crosses the room and stands in front of Brian’s desk, ignoring the yelling of the reporters and photographers under the window. The curtains had been pulled tight for the last few days, and they were beginning to protest.
“This.” Justin rests the paper on Brian’s desk, posture relaxing, hips popping out. Brian tries to ignore them, all sharp bones that he guesses are wickedly pale touching the edges of his desk. “Read it to me.”
Brian rolls his eyes and picks the paper off of the desk with quick fingers. He looks over the wording for a minute, and then glances up at Justin, his eyebrows wrinkled.
“This is the building’s fire escape route.” He snorts, the color of his eyes turning charming and light. “Where the hell did you get this?”
Grinning, Justin moves around the desk, until he’s leaning against the edge Brian sits behind, those hips right the fuck in Brian’s face. Says, “There was a stack of them in the lobby downstairs, with a whole bunch of pamphlets on worker’s insurance coverage. You work in a pretty shady building, you know.”
“Cheap rent in an expensive location.” He grins, edges crooked like his teeth. Justin laughs and moves his knees so they knock against Brian’s, tip toes on the floor and pushing his legs up so they’re level with Brian’s kneecaps. “Why, it doesn’t get any better.”
The flabbergasted tone to his voice makes Justin laugh and lean in, kissing him until both of their bodies are warm and pliable and Justin wants to… well he doesn’t know what he wants to do, because he can’t think properly, but whatever he wants to do would still never cure this disease he has.
“So tell me what it says.” He smirks, pulling away until their lips are inches apart, all red and wet and swollen. Justin slides one hand to the back of Brian’s neck and pulls them close, until their mouths are barely touching.
Brian grins.
“Maybe I don’t want to teach you German fire escape instruction.” He whispers, eyes flickering down Justin’s face and to his throat. He leans in and sucks it, pulling away before Justin really manages to register the quick action.
The blond presses their foreheads together and murmurs, his voice quiet but not deadly, “Well… I think you should.”
“Oh yeah?” Brian laughs, raising his eyebrows and pulling away, just enough to see Justin’s expression. Justin grins and nods, his eyebrows arching and mimicking the set before him.
He whispers, “Yeah.” Leans in to press his mouth against Brian’s, lips moving and palms pressing. Brian wraps his hands around Justin’s hips and steadies him in the chair, eyes closing as Justin quietly moans. Most of the sound disappears into Brian.
“Brian, the guy from Constan-“ The door bursts open and Adeline steps in, head down as she reads the paper copy that she holds. Justin almost falls out of Brian’s lap, but manages to recover at the last minute, balancing himself against the desk. Brian’s pulse races and he reaches up to adjust his tie just as Adeline looks over at them, both of their expressions obvious. Her eyebrows raise. “…Constantine Security called. He’s on line three.”
Brian coughs and nods, leaning forward to turn the line on. Adeline glances over at Justin, chewing on his thumbnail and hovering around the edge of the desk, before she moves back out of the office.
…
“What the fuck are you thinking?” She hisses, her voice raw at the edges. Brian glances up from the photocopier, rumbling and flashing beneath him. Adeline’s eyebrows are drawn together in an angry knot, and her lips are thin. “Listen to me, Brian. Are you listening to me? You are going to fuck yourself over.”
Brian raises his eyebrows and flips the lid of the copier over, relining the paper up against the top edge. He keeps his eyes on the glass top and snaps, “Would you mind your own fucking business for once?”
“Fuck you!” She squawks, hitting his arm. He grimaces and inches over, but she isn’t even near done. “You fuck this up and I’m fucked too, you understand that? Do you know how much shit you could land yourself in?”
He rolls his eyes and begins to punch in the copy count, cursing the broken ‘10’ button, because he’s stuck doing increments of ‘1’ instead. Drawls, “I attended law school. I’m fantastically aware.”
“Then what the fuck are you thinking?” She hisses again, tapping the side of her head. Her hair bounces and her fingers stays the same.
Brian stares at her for a moment, eyes hard and jaw line harder, until he enunciates, words perfected, “Leave it alone. Adeline.”
He heads for the doorway after that, pushing past the assistant’s body until he’s breaking through to free space. She stands in the copy room for a few moments, body partly frozen, watching as the copier flashes beneath her.
49,014 / 50,000
(98.0%)
“They’re letting me meet with Vincent.”
The reaction that comes from those six words is exactly one that he had expected, that is to be expected. Justin’s head snaps up, eyes wide and color drained. Brian slicks his tongue over his teeth and doesn’t say another word, knows that the blond would just interrupt them, anyway.
“What? Why? Why would they let you do that?”
Brian runs a hand through his hair, answers, “I don’t know. All his attorney told me was that he’s the one who wanted to talk to me.” He explains, trying not to shrug. Justin begins to look sick. “Adeline got the call this morning, they made an appointment for next week.”
“Christ.” Justin mutters, shaking his head, leaning forward in his seat so he can run his hands through his hair. In his own chair Brian hesitates, begins to wonder what the etiquette is with a client’s who’s mouth you just had your tongue in.
He was never that good with ethics.
So he gets up and after hovering around the side of the desk, finally just bites the fucking bullet and crosses over until he’s standing beside Justin’s chair. Kneels down and waits until Justin’s looking at him before he bothers to say anything.
“You aren’t going to lose.”
Justin manages a nod that Brian can tell is forced. Doesn’t say the ‘I know,’ but they both hear it. They both know it’s there. Instead the blond shakes his head again and then leans forward, resting his chin on Brian’s shoulder.
And Brian has always been a sucker for certain things that included this boy.
…
“If you guys are done, Constantin is here to pick Justin up.” Adeline interrupts, her head popping around the edge of the door without a single introductory word. Brian looks up from the computer screen, glances over at Justin.
Justin who is still sitting in the same chair, biting his nails.
“We’ll be down in a minute, just tell them to wait.” He finally says, twisting his chair around until he can see Adeline’s face. Her eye makeup is brown and smeared underneath her eyes, and he loves it.
She nods, and closes the door as she leaves.
“You’ll be back in the morning.” Brian begins, squinting over the edge of the desk for reasons he hasn’t even figured out yet. “I’m sending a car to get you at seven. They wouldn’t let me pull you out earlier.”
Justin nods and shifts around, beginning to pull his jacket on with a half-assed effort.
“Justin.”
The blond looks up and manages a small smile, and yeah it’s barely there, but it isn’t forced. Brian doesn’t see the Pinocchio strings that hold the edges up.
“Yeah?” He asks, voice small and breakable and Brian fucking hates it, knows that he should have just not said anything.
Shakes his head, mostly at himself.
“You’ll be fine.”
And then he’s getting out of the chair and going around the desk, and his fingers are in Justin’s hair and they’re kissing, and maybe it’s a goodbye but it might also be something else. Justin is completely pliable after a moment, slides his arm around Brian’s waist until his cold hand is warm under the back of Brian’s pressed shirt.
“Okay.” He whispers, nods. He leans in and then pulls away, leading Brian over to the office door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
…
“Brian Kinney.” He states, extending his hand, holding it still in the air. The other man shakes it wearily, looking between Brian and the man standing beside him, their briefcases almost matching -- except for the missing thousand dollars between the two objects. “My client opted out of the meeting today, though I have to say that I’m surprised to see you here.”
The man shakes his head and lowers his hand to the side, watching as Brian greets the prison official the same way, merely out of habit.
“I’m protecting my own client’s best interests.” The other lawyer says, and Brian almost rolls his eyes. However you can protect the interests of someone who has no chance in hell of winning a case is completely lost on him.
But Brian grins, says, “I am too.”
…
“You will not speak unless spoken to, and if at any point you -- I’ll put it simple -- piss me off, the guard will escort you back to your cell.” He explains, raising his eyebrows as he shuffles through a short stack of papers sitting before him, all stats and faxes on the man he’s positioned across from.
He’s completely disgusting. The perfect grease ball in any high budget film, complete with thinning hair and hollow eyes. Brian shakes the automatic frown off of his face, and replaces it with something neutral.
“If you feel at all threatened during any point in the interview, your lawyer will assist you. Is this understood?”
The man behind the thick glass pane nods once.
“Good. I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you. I’m Brian Kinney.”
…
“I’ve spoken with my lawyers, and we want to offer you a deal.”
Brian’s eyebrows knot together as he leans back in the plastic chair, hands folded over his stomach with one foot propped up on the counter that separates them. He raises one, and tries not to laugh out loud.
“Do tell, Mr. Zambino… Can I call you Vincent?” The man shakes his head and sends an obvious glare, almost invisible indents making themselves known on his swollen cheek bones. Brian doesn’t know if it’s leftovers from a brawl, or fat. “Vincent it is.”
They hold each other’s stares for a few moments, before Zambino breaks it and pauses, finally says, “We’re willing to offer a plea bargain with you, before the trial begins.”
Brian wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation -- the lack of appropriate and professionalism making the back of his throat sore.
“Really.” He manages, the corners of his lips beginning to twitch.
Vincent nods carefully, continues, “Yes. I’m willing to plead guilty to one count of false imprisonment, and take a term of five years in a high security prison. In exchange I request that your client drops all other charges against me.”
“You’re fucking…” Brian trails off, and looks between Vincent and the team of lawyers standing behind him, reflecting in the glass. “You’re absolutely fucking kidding me, right?”
Maintaining his expression, Vincent shakes his head. Brian opens his mouth, trying to speak, and it takes a second longer than he wishes it would before the words actually fall out. Tumble out.
“No. You don’t have yourself a plea bargain, Mr. Zambino. I’ll tell you what you do have, however.” Brian smiles, reaching down into his briefcase. He pulls a piece of paper out and waves it around in the air, the sarcastic sneer on his lips growing into a full blown grin. “These are the charges that my client will be laying against you. Do you want me to go alphabetically, or in order of sentencing?”
Vincent shakes his head and leans closer to the window, “Mr. Kinney, if you’ll listen to my lawyers and I for a moment, you’ll see-“
“Aggravated assault, battery, false imprisonment-“
The man, obviously surprised at the sudden outburst, tries to get up from his chair -- immediately, however, the two guards standing behind him move forward, ready to run. Vincent is still trying to sputter, “Mr. Kinney, please-“
“Negligence, grievous bodily harm… Do you want to hear the sexual offences that will be pressed against you, Mr. Zambino, or should we leave those for another day?”
Vincent presses his chubby hands to his forehead, and Brian watches as his lawyers begin to move in, whispering to him, hissing.
So Brian raises his voice, and presses a little harder.
“Sexual exploitation of a young person, attempting to obtain sexual services from a child, corrupting a child, anal intercourse with a child -- of course you’ll be added to the sex offender’s registry, both in the United States and Germany.”
The small team of lawyers are shaking their heads and motioning for the guards to come and escort their client back to his cell. Brian stands up from his chair, still breathing one pace faster than usual, fists clenched. He stares at Zambino, waits until the old man looks him in the eyes, before he says, voice perfectly clear --
“My client will see you at the trial. This meeting is finished.”
The echo of the lock snapping on his briefcase bounces across the room.
…
When he picks Justin up from the centre on his way back, his knuckles are white around the steering wheel, and whether he’d actually ever admit it or not, his teeth are tight together in the back of his mouth.
“Hey.” Justin smiles, dropping down into the front seat. He throws his on its way to being ratty bag at his feet and reaches back for his belt, pulling it across his chest.
Brian forces a half smile and pulls away from the curb, not even bothering to look back and see whether or not Janice still watches the kid leave. If he could laugh without saying it, he might express that he feels as though the woman is getting too attached to her appointed client.
“So did you go to the meeting?” Justin asks, all innocent voice and raised eyebrows. Brian glances over at him and offers an expression that almost explains everything going through his head. “Was it bad? Do I want to know? Was he gross?”
Smirking a little despite himself, Brian nods.
“He was definitely gross.”
Justin wrinkles his nose and turns to watch out the window as they drive by a tourist stop Brian has made fun of years. Some guy standing on the street corner, selling miniature clay versions of the Berlin wall, all cracked and painted with nail polish. So maybe Brian laughs at it too, but what the fuck ever.
“He wanted to come to an agreement.” Brian explains, glancing over at Justin as they come to a red light and the car slows down to a stop. The blond raises his eyebrows again and looks mildly surprised. “He wanted to plead guilty to one count of false imprisonment.”
Justin’s completely silent for a moment, before he smiles and asks, “What?”
“Needless to say,” Brian begins, pausing when the light flickers to green. “I told them that my client didn’t accept the offer.”
…
“What does this say?” Justin asks, holding up a piece of paper that’s obviously been photocopied a hundred times over. There are thick black lines and dots that look like white television snow, and even if Justin understood German, he doesn’t exactly think that he’d be able to read this.
Brian glances over from the computer screen.
“What?” He asks, only half interested and barely paying attention.
Tapping the paper, Justin crosses the room and stands in front of Brian’s desk, ignoring the yelling of the reporters and photographers under the window. The curtains had been pulled tight for the last few days, and they were beginning to protest.
“This.” Justin rests the paper on Brian’s desk, posture relaxing, hips popping out. Brian tries to ignore them, all sharp bones that he guesses are wickedly pale touching the edges of his desk. “Read it to me.”
Brian rolls his eyes and picks the paper off of the desk with quick fingers. He looks over the wording for a minute, and then glances up at Justin, his eyebrows wrinkled.
“This is the building’s fire escape route.” He snorts, the color of his eyes turning charming and light. “Where the hell did you get this?”
Grinning, Justin moves around the desk, until he’s leaning against the edge Brian sits behind, those hips right the fuck in Brian’s face. Says, “There was a stack of them in the lobby downstairs, with a whole bunch of pamphlets on worker’s insurance coverage. You work in a pretty shady building, you know.”
“Cheap rent in an expensive location.” He grins, edges crooked like his teeth. Justin laughs and moves his knees so they knock against Brian’s, tip toes on the floor and pushing his legs up so they’re level with Brian’s kneecaps. “Why, it doesn’t get any better.”
The flabbergasted tone to his voice makes Justin laugh and lean in, kissing him until both of their bodies are warm and pliable and Justin wants to… well he doesn’t know what he wants to do, because he can’t think properly, but whatever he wants to do would still never cure this disease he has.
“So tell me what it says.” He smirks, pulling away until their lips are inches apart, all red and wet and swollen. Justin slides one hand to the back of Brian’s neck and pulls them close, until their mouths are barely touching.
Brian grins.
“Maybe I don’t want to teach you German fire escape instruction.” He whispers, eyes flickering down Justin’s face and to his throat. He leans in and sucks it, pulling away before Justin really manages to register the quick action.
The blond presses their foreheads together and murmurs, his voice quiet but not deadly, “Well… I think you should.”
“Oh yeah?” Brian laughs, raising his eyebrows and pulling away, just enough to see Justin’s expression. Justin grins and nods, his eyebrows arching and mimicking the set before him.
He whispers, “Yeah.” Leans in to press his mouth against Brian’s, lips moving and palms pressing. Brian wraps his hands around Justin’s hips and steadies him in the chair, eyes closing as Justin quietly moans. Most of the sound disappears into Brian.
“Brian, the guy from Constan-“ The door bursts open and Adeline steps in, head down as she reads the paper copy that she holds. Justin almost falls out of Brian’s lap, but manages to recover at the last minute, balancing himself against the desk. Brian’s pulse races and he reaches up to adjust his tie just as Adeline looks over at them, both of their expressions obvious. Her eyebrows raise. “…Constantine Security called. He’s on line three.”
Brian coughs and nods, leaning forward to turn the line on. Adeline glances over at Justin, chewing on his thumbnail and hovering around the edge of the desk, before she moves back out of the office.
…
“What the fuck are you thinking?” She hisses, her voice raw at the edges. Brian glances up from the photocopier, rumbling and flashing beneath him. Adeline’s eyebrows are drawn together in an angry knot, and her lips are thin. “Listen to me, Brian. Are you listening to me? You are going to fuck yourself over.”
Brian raises his eyebrows and flips the lid of the copier over, relining the paper up against the top edge. He keeps his eyes on the glass top and snaps, “Would you mind your own fucking business for once?”
“Fuck you!” She squawks, hitting his arm. He grimaces and inches over, but she isn’t even near done. “You fuck this up and I’m fucked too, you understand that? Do you know how much shit you could land yourself in?”
He rolls his eyes and begins to punch in the copy count, cursing the broken ‘10’ button, because he’s stuck doing increments of ‘1’ instead. Drawls, “I attended law school. I’m fantastically aware.”
“Then what the fuck are you thinking?” She hisses again, tapping the side of her head. Her hair bounces and her fingers stays the same.
Brian stares at her for a moment, eyes hard and jaw line harder, until he enunciates, words perfected, “Leave it alone. Adeline.”
He heads for the doorway after that, pushing past the assistant’s body until he’s breaking through to free space. She stands in the copy room for a few moments, body partly frozen, watching as the copier flashes beneath her.