Page 55 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“Has the sedimentation worked?” he asks. “Have things settled out enough for you to get a clearer picture?”

“No,” I’m forced to admit. “But I really don’t have the luxury of waiting around. If I bang my head against the wall hard enough, long enough, I’ll get some sort of breakthrough.”

“You’ve never actually hit your head against a brick wall, have you?” he asks, with a dry half-smile that shows more in his eyes than his lips.

“Well, no,” I say. “Though if I had, I mean, I might not remember it.”

“True. That’s very true,” he chuckles. “I don’t want you banging your head against the wall tonight.”

“Ah,” I say, and take a deep breath. “I see. I’ll just- I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I knew this wouldn’t end well. What did I expect? But still, the rejection doesn’t feel good.

Something of the hurt must show on my face as I take a step backwards, out through the door, and reach for the handle to close it.

“What-” Gabriel’s forehead wrinkles, his eyebrows forming confused question marks. “Wait. Wait!”

I stop, the door half closed between us. Fearful-Emily shrieksI told you sorepeatedly in one ear; Adventurous-Emily wants to see more.

“Using your head as a battering ram hurts, Emily,” he says. His voice is gentle, his eyes soft. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he cared. “It hurts a lot. And it’ll mess up your face, too.”

I shrug silently, shifting my feet, inching further out the door.

Gabriel sighs, letting his head fall backwards, staring at the ceiling.

“Emily.” He rubs at his temples, closing his eyes. “You are aware that there are, in fact, other cases that this office is working on, right? Actual cases, with court dates? And there’s at least twelve million things in the suspense file right now that we need to look at?”

“I- wait, what?”

“I was trying… oh, hell. If you want to stay and help, come on in. God knows I can’t do everything myself. But help me withthis, notthat.”

“Oh.” I edge forward, just a fraction, opening the door again. Just a bit.

“Please,” he says, looking at me again and waving the document he was reading in the direction of one of the visitor chairs.

“What is it?” I ask, stepping fully into the office and letting go of the door handle.

“You took Admin law last year, right? You’re probably fresher on this than I am. Defense in the Meroa case is making some… some absolutelybullshitclaim that we can’t prosecute because…” he trails off.

The annoyed-yet-bewildered indignance in his voice and splattered all over his face is somehow… nerve-wracking, says Fearful-Emily. Adorable, says Adventurous-Emily.

“Oh, hell. You’ll see. Take a look, give me your impression,” he says, leaning forward to hand me the file once I’m seated.

Meroa’s technicality doesn’t take long for us to dissect and dispose of, but there are plenty more cases to look at afterwards. Argument meets counter-argument; the devil’s advocate is defeated by blind Justitia with her sword and balances.But what about thisis dismissed as law school silliness that doesn’t happen in the real world;but what about thatmay turn out to be sound logic after all.

After the sixth case I glance over at the clock on the wall. The realization that we’ve been at this for more than three hours already hits me like a ton of bricks and I can’t fight a sudden yawn.

“Had enough?” Gabriel asks, closing the folder in front of him and putting down his pen. “It’s probably about time to pack it in for the night anyway.”

“Sorry-” I begin, but I’m forced to cover my mouth for another yawn. “I don’t know what’s got into me.”

“Something about it being very late at night, perhaps?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “Okay, probably.”

His smile is sardonic at first, but softens as silent seconds drag on, finally fading into… I can’t tell what. Confusion? Nervousness?

“What is it?” I ask.

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