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mood |
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 devious |
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music |
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Disconnected - Face to Face |
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Turtlenecks were a wonderful invention. The way they hid neck bruises and the like was so ingenious.
Half-empty coffee mug sat on the edge of Jillian Andersen's desk as she filed through the paperwork her assistant Jose had left her for the day. The firm was still not gaining any ground on finding Victoria -- or so they said -- but they were quick to give her cases to work on, clients to work with. Court work was tedious to Jill; while it was technically true that she was a lawyer, and she was more than adept in the courtroom, her true calling in working on the firm's more pressing concerns. The concerns most Wolfram & Hart employees never knew about.
The concerns of the Senior Partners.
Such a job brought with it risks -- as evidenced by the dark red turtleneck covering the bruises and scratches left by her run-in with Katherine -- but Jill was more than willing to take them, knowing full-well how things would be if she kept at it and got her way. As far as Wolfram & Hart branches went, the Las Vegas office was highly influential, particularly following the destruction of the Los Angeles branch. To run things in Sin City would be to get in the Partners' good graces.
Another sip from the mug, a ring of red left on Jill's lips as she set the mug down, placing her signature on one of the many forms in front of her.
Virgil Guzman was a damned good attorney. While he wasn't as dynamic in the courtroom as many of his W & H counterparts, he was a dogged and dedicated plodder. It was one of the reasons Oliver had hired him after he'd turned twenty-one. He needed someone competent and inclined to protect his interests, not a super-lawyer.
Unfortunately, that made certain things more complicated than they needed to be.
"How many times do I have to say that I don't care, Virgil? The guy's connected to something somewhere, and I want to know what it is." "Oliver, you're being unreasonable," the attorney said placatingly. Oliver slouched against the wall and lit a cigarette.
"No, I'm not," he muttered. "This guy, demon, whatever the hell, was in my face. You know how I feel about that. I wanted to..." He cut himself off, but the stormy look in his eyes didn't pass.
"Don't do something foolish, all right? I'll see what I can do." "Be my friend, Virgil," OLiver said, the words escaping on a cloud of smoke. "You're the only one I've got."
In the next five minutes, he was stalking down the long hallway to the elevators, past several office doors. He'd go back to the hotel and eat something, maybe have a few drinks. Maybe more than a few.
"Fucking demon," he muttered savagely, banging his fist on one door as he passed by. "Fucking demon in a fucking Armani suit."
( A Chance Encounter )
( Cigarettes and Idle Chatter )
( Not-So-Idle Interest )
( Talking Business )
( Wildly Inappropriate )
( Too Close For Comfort? )
( Back To Business )
Oliver studied the business card, then tucked it away into the pocket of his jacket. "I look forward to hearing from you, Ms. Andersen. Perhaps next time we can meet under less...formal circumstances, hmm?"
And if things with Elise Shelby went the way he thought they would, he could always combine business with pleasure...
Pleasure and scars. Jill's and his own.
"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Andersen. Jill."
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contemplative