I win your case, you buy the drinks!
It was a bit unprofessional for a slogan, but Caoimhe didn't deal with professionals. The Arden Watcher worked with the most vile patrons she could find inhabiting Valesport. She had no concerns over whether her clients were meta or human, she just preferred that they had done something unspeakable. Caoimhe made her living in the Fleshlands as a criminal defense lawyer. Not because she had some sense of equity, but because the human justice system was convoluted, corrupt, and flawed, and she took great pleasure in shoving that back in their faces. Criminals went free in Caoimhe's care; she was the scum of the Earth to most of her peers, but she was a queen in the delinquent underworld.
"I don't even have to charm them," she would explain, almost excitedly. "They're just that stupid."
Persecutors never quite knew what to do with her. On the one hand they despised her position, but on the other hand they liked watching the way her ass looked in a pencil skirt as she sashayed across a courtroom. It was perhaps a bit unfair, even with glamour she was still unusually attractive. She was all curves, and pale skin, and red curls. Her eyes were two different hues, even without the mask, but they lacked the mesmerizing swirls of her triple ringed orbs.
"You must be real, fuckin' proud of yourself, Arden."
Harsh words interrupted her recces, and she stopped leaning against one of the columns outside the courthouse to turn around and face the speaker. It was the prosecuting attorney from her current trial. Eyes flickered over the human form wrapped in a slate gray suit and her lips curled into an amused grin around her cigarette. She smoked because she felt it fit her devious persona. "What's the matter, Wayne?" she teased, blowing smoke as she plucked the cigarette from her mouth. "I find that you are a very, very sore loser."
"I haven't lost, yet," he snapped. He frowned and she only looked entirely too amused at his use of 'yet.' Instead of trying to defend himself further he rushed off back to the courtroom and Caoimhe finished her cigarette.
"Is that slogan of yours just posturing or what?"
She turned her head to the sound of the voice, projecting itself in her ear over the sounds of the bar. Her cigarette was burning itself out in an ashtray, and she swirled a shot of Crown Royal in it's glass. Montgomery Wayne was worse at losing than she had originally thought. "Are you trying to find out the hard way?" she always spoke to him like he was a child; a spoiled, pouting child. She threw her head back and emptied the shot with ease. Picking up her cigarette, she tapped off the excess ash before bringing to her mouth. "What do you want, Wayne?"
"To see you fail at something," he sneered, motioning for the bartender. "I am going to drink that fine ass of yours under the table." Her jubilant laughter could be heard over most of the noise in the bar. This was a poor flirtation, driven by the man's desire to dominate her. If not in court than perhaps in the bar.
"Fine, but you're paying."
Montgomery wasn't used to being the one waking up in an unfamiliar bed, and he most certainly wasn't accustomed to waking up alone. The perks of being a handsome lawyer from Cape Elizabeth. He probably felt like shit as he wandered around Caoimhe's Brighton apartment, as he tried to piece together where he was, and what happened the night before. The Watcher sat at her kitchen island, smoking a cigarette and reading the morning paper. "Good morning," she greets, loftily, when the boxer-clad man found his way into her brightly lit kitchen. His jaw clenched so tightly, Caoimhe imagined his teeth could snap with the pressure of it. To her credit, she did not laugh at him, even though she really wanted to.
"What the hell happened?"
"I drank you under the table and then I brought you home and fucked you."
There was a drawn out silence, she traded her cigarette for her coffee.
She finished her coffee as he got dressed and gathered his belongings. She barely bothered to look up from the paper as he announced he was leaving. He'd hardly made it do the door before he came storming back to throw an accusing digit in her direction.
"You know what? Fuck you, Arden."
"Oh, Wayne, you already did."
She took amused sips of her coffee as she stood by the window and watched his walk of shame down the sidewalk from her apartment. If Wayne was a sore loser, she was a very, very poor winner.
Turning away from the window, she dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink and used her phone to call for a car to pick her up. As she moved into the living room to gather case files off the coffee table, she guessed it was a good time to check on her charge. Telepathic tendencies, like roaming tethers, searched out Ki Vereaux like they had a hundred times before. Fae rarely utilized the ability that came naturally to their kind, but she found it the easiest way to keep tabs on Ki, since she spent very little time in her presence.
Is everything alright? She asks automatically, when she felt confident that her words would reach Ki's mind. She slipped her coat over her shoulders, as she left the apartment and locked the door behind her. She stood on the sidewalk, briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other as she waited for the car.
It's been a while since I last checked in with you.
It was a bit unprofessional for a slogan, but Caoimhe didn't deal with professionals. The Arden Watcher worked with the most vile patrons she could find inhabiting Valesport. She had no concerns over whether her clients were meta or human, she just preferred that they had done something unspeakable. Caoimhe made her living in the Fleshlands as a criminal defense lawyer. Not because she had some sense of equity, but because the human justice system was convoluted, corrupt, and flawed, and she took great pleasure in shoving that back in their faces. Criminals went free in Caoimhe's care; she was the scum of the Earth to most of her peers, but she was a queen in the delinquent underworld.
"I don't even have to charm them," she would explain, almost excitedly. "They're just that stupid."
Persecutors never quite knew what to do with her. On the one hand they despised her position, but on the other hand they liked watching the way her ass looked in a pencil skirt as she sashayed across a courtroom. It was perhaps a bit unfair, even with glamour she was still unusually attractive. She was all curves, and pale skin, and red curls. Her eyes were two different hues, even without the mask, but they lacked the mesmerizing swirls of her triple ringed orbs.
"You must be real, fuckin' proud of yourself, Arden."
Harsh words interrupted her recces, and she stopped leaning against one of the columns outside the courthouse to turn around and face the speaker. It was the prosecuting attorney from her current trial. Eyes flickered over the human form wrapped in a slate gray suit and her lips curled into an amused grin around her cigarette. She smoked because she felt it fit her devious persona. "What's the matter, Wayne?" she teased, blowing smoke as she plucked the cigarette from her mouth. "I find that you are a very, very sore loser."
"I haven't lost, yet," he snapped. He frowned and she only looked entirely too amused at his use of 'yet.' Instead of trying to defend himself further he rushed off back to the courtroom and Caoimhe finished her cigarette.
~~
"Is that slogan of yours just posturing or what?"
She turned her head to the sound of the voice, projecting itself in her ear over the sounds of the bar. Her cigarette was burning itself out in an ashtray, and she swirled a shot of Crown Royal in it's glass. Montgomery Wayne was worse at losing than she had originally thought. "Are you trying to find out the hard way?" she always spoke to him like he was a child; a spoiled, pouting child. She threw her head back and emptied the shot with ease. Picking up her cigarette, she tapped off the excess ash before bringing to her mouth. "What do you want, Wayne?"
"To see you fail at something," he sneered, motioning for the bartender. "I am going to drink that fine ass of yours under the table." Her jubilant laughter could be heard over most of the noise in the bar. This was a poor flirtation, driven by the man's desire to dominate her. If not in court than perhaps in the bar.
"Fine, but you're paying."
~~
Montgomery wasn't used to being the one waking up in an unfamiliar bed, and he most certainly wasn't accustomed to waking up alone. The perks of being a handsome lawyer from Cape Elizabeth. He probably felt like shit as he wandered around Caoimhe's Brighton apartment, as he tried to piece together where he was, and what happened the night before. The Watcher sat at her kitchen island, smoking a cigarette and reading the morning paper. "Good morning," she greets, loftily, when the boxer-clad man found his way into her brightly lit kitchen. His jaw clenched so tightly, Caoimhe imagined his teeth could snap with the pressure of it. To her credit, she did not laugh at him, even though she really wanted to.
"What the hell happened?"
"I drank you under the table and then I brought you home and fucked you."
There was a drawn out silence, she traded her cigarette for her coffee.
She finished her coffee as he got dressed and gathered his belongings. She barely bothered to look up from the paper as he announced he was leaving. He'd hardly made it do the door before he came storming back to throw an accusing digit in her direction.
"You know what? Fuck you, Arden."
"Oh, Wayne, you already did."
She took amused sips of her coffee as she stood by the window and watched his walk of shame down the sidewalk from her apartment. If Wayne was a sore loser, she was a very, very poor winner.
Turning away from the window, she dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink and used her phone to call for a car to pick her up. As she moved into the living room to gather case files off the coffee table, she guessed it was a good time to check on her charge. Telepathic tendencies, like roaming tethers, searched out Ki Vereaux like they had a hundred times before. Fae rarely utilized the ability that came naturally to their kind, but she found it the easiest way to keep tabs on Ki, since she spent very little time in her presence.
Is everything alright? She asks automatically, when she felt confident that her words would reach Ki's mind. She slipped her coat over her shoulders, as she left the apartment and locked the door behind her. She stood on the sidewalk, briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other as she waited for the car.
It's been a while since I last checked in with you.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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