Word #24
Title: Between A Rock and A...
Fandom: Original - Mr. Ritter makes another appearence.
Rating: PG
A/N: Finally have a little time to write. It's been a while. Ritter is back, in an almost continuation of last time, though it actually takes place before hand. Ever been stuck in one of those... situations... *cough* Well, probably not.
"I vehemently disagree with that. Your Honor." The last was said with a touch less.... venom. He lowered his head. He could still see her delicate pointed shoes out of the corner of his eyes. Those, small, pristine, black lacquered, annoyingly perfect, always right toe-out, pointed shoes.
She had worn those to church that day.
He glared at those shoes until her voice brought his gaze back up, past the very cleverly placed brooch on her bodice, to her face, locked on her eyes, though she (naturally) didn't spare him a side glance. "I would say that it would be ludicrous for this man to do anything but disagree under the circumstances. However, we're not here to debate his sanity, are we?"
"I may plead insanity..." he muttered under his voice.
"What was that, Mr. Ritter?" The Judge barked, his jowls flapping in their adjudicating manner, as if each fold of skin held within it a row of the jury.
Normally, he would have gone to tip his hat gently, but the ropes around his wrists made that quite uncomfortably impossible, so he just shrugged. Justice was all about truth, was it not? "Your Honor." He watched the vixen beside him. She was, after all more the judge than the St. Bernard standing before them. They had almost might as well be standing before a church puplit as much as a court justice's stand.
"I can plead only guilty indeed to coming to Miss Emilia Ernstein at the most uncouth hour of the night with very uncouth intentions indeed." That spared him a glance from her, and his grin lit his eyes.
"Sir, you would indict yourself? Plead guilty?" She seemed suspicious, sweet, vicious thing. So beautiful.
"I have a feeling that no matter the... position in which the case could be plead, Miss, the guilt would only be put upon one, so I see no reason why I shouldn't make the good Judge's verdict a bit easier." The gavel was rising, and he was ready. Besides, he really had no other choice. "Therefore I must plead insanity. Because, Your Honor, I know I loose a piece of my bloody mind every time I look at your daughter. I've got to be insane to keep doing it." He grinned into her eyes. "Don't you think?"
He didn't even hear the roaring of the judge, watching the smallest quirk of her lips, eyes to match his. Gavel go to hell, he was back in the game.
Fandom: Original - Mr. Ritter makes another appearence.
Rating: PG
A/N: Finally have a little time to write. It's been a while. Ritter is back, in an almost continuation of last time, though it actually takes place before hand. Ever been stuck in one of those... situations... *cough* Well, probably not.
"I vehemently disagree with that. Your Honor." The last was said with a touch less.... venom. He lowered his head. He could still see her delicate pointed shoes out of the corner of his eyes. Those, small, pristine, black lacquered, annoyingly perfect, always right toe-out, pointed shoes.
She had worn those to church that day.
He glared at those shoes until her voice brought his gaze back up, past the very cleverly placed brooch on her bodice, to her face, locked on her eyes, though she (naturally) didn't spare him a side glance. "I would say that it would be ludicrous for this man to do anything but disagree under the circumstances. However, we're not here to debate his sanity, are we?"
"I may plead insanity..." he muttered under his voice.
"What was that, Mr. Ritter?" The Judge barked, his jowls flapping in their adjudicating manner, as if each fold of skin held within it a row of the jury.
Normally, he would have gone to tip his hat gently, but the ropes around his wrists made that quite uncomfortably impossible, so he just shrugged. Justice was all about truth, was it not? "Your Honor." He watched the vixen beside him. She was, after all more the judge than the St. Bernard standing before them. They had almost might as well be standing before a church puplit as much as a court justice's stand.
"I can plead only guilty indeed to coming to Miss Emilia Ernstein at the most uncouth hour of the night with very uncouth intentions indeed." That spared him a glance from her, and his grin lit his eyes.
"Sir, you would indict yourself? Plead guilty?" She seemed suspicious, sweet, vicious thing. So beautiful.
"I have a feeling that no matter the... position in which the case could be plead, Miss, the guilt would only be put upon one, so I see no reason why I shouldn't make the good Judge's verdict a bit easier." The gavel was rising, and he was ready. Besides, he really had no other choice. "Therefore I must plead insanity. Because, Your Honor, I know I loose a piece of my bloody mind every time I look at your daughter. I've got to be insane to keep doing it." He grinned into her eyes. "Don't you think?"
He didn't even hear the roaring of the judge, watching the smallest quirk of her lips, eyes to match his. Gavel go to hell, he was back in the game.