shahrrehth | OPEN RP POST

"I understand why we have returned to this location," spoke the voice from his dashboard, "but I am not certain it is necessary."

"I know you aren't, Kitt, but trust me. It's necessary." Mike leaned back a little, wiggling in his seat after the long drive. Kitt was many things, but the perfect environment for long periods of time, he wasn't. From what he understood, that was just how the job went, though, and really, he wasn't going to complain.

...Okay, he wasn't going to complain often, but complaining every now and then was just fine.

Mike took his hands off the wheel as he adjusted a little farther. "See, they're trying to press charges against my friend for daring to bust up that fight club. Basically trying to pin anything they can against her. And we, Kitt, have evidence to the contrary."

"I see. This is emotionally driven."

"Correct. See, you're learning."

"I was programmed to learn."

Mike fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Then you're living up to your programming."

"Thank you."

Court jurisdictions were finicky things. Despite the location before having been in a dustbowl of a place, the town he was now driving into-- well, it was a town. To someone used to Vegas, it didn't stand up and shout or anything, but it was enough that he looked through the windows and started committing landmarks to memory. City hall, at least, was easy to find. And if he knew anything about anything, he knew that lawyers tended to cluster around the courthouse and city hall. "Okay," he mused. "Kent... Kent... Public defen-- Aha, there."

A gentle little swoop and he was neatly parked in front of the offices of one Clara Kent, Public Defender. "Lock it up, Kitt - I'll be back soon."

With a burned CD in hand, he climbed out of the driver's seat, stretched, and headed inside, feeling his ass grow less numb by the step. Thank God for walking. His only thought as he walked through the front door was that he hoped he wouldn't have to sit and wait. "Hey," he said as soon as he spotted someone inside, not really paying attention. "I'm looking for Miss Kent? I need to discuss a case."

She looked up from what she'd been reading and gave him a quick, warm smile as she looked him up and down. She recognized him from some of the police reports she'd been going over and that meant he got priority since the case was not looking particularly good. Her eyes catch on the CD in his hands.

"You're talking to her."

She offered her hand with a grin.

"Clara Kent. You're Mike, right? I'm defending one of your friends in a couple of days."

Well. Hell. He could've looked over photos, he could've been prepared, but nope. Nope, he gets blindsided, instead. All because he couldn't arse himself to do a little research before finding out that, hello, Mike, the public defender is gorgeous.

Mike shook her hand but with a sort of absence over him. All because the main word that kept going through his mind was 'wow.' Or at least it was overlaying a chant of 'doomed doomed doomed.'

Finally, he came to himself enough to say, "Yeah. Yeah, Mike Knight. I, uh. I brought you some evidence."

And, with all of the charm of a thirteen-year-old trying to ask out a high school junior, he pushed the CD case at her. Because nothing says 'hi there, you are distractingly beautiful' like a CD case.

She reached forward to take the CD, glancing down at it for a moment before looking up at him again and offering a smile.

"Knight. Yes. What's on here, if you don't mind me asking?"

She turned her head to indicate the overstuffed desk in the corner of the small office. Ahh, the fabulous and glamorous life of a public defender.

"Step into my office, stranger. And tell me about this CD, hmm?"

"Right. Yeah." Reality was calling. And between reality and the quiet, too-calm voice in his ear telling him that he was getting distracted by a pretty face (yes, Kitt, that was true, but he didn't need the reminder), he cleared his throat and motioned for her to precede him. "Sorry, I... got preoccupied there for a second.

"The friend of mine you're defending. The fact is that she's only being prosecuted because she's a whistleblower." Now that his mind was on business, he was pretty good at covering what needed covered. He told the story, leaving out things like talking cars and his involvement in the takedown other than investigating, seeing as how his creds as an investigator should easily come back clean. "But this organisation had some sizeable investments. This is just a revenge case, and with those records there in your hand, you should be able to prove that this case is as trumped up as that gaudy tower on the east coast."

Ha ha. Trump tower joke.

He really needed to shut up before he was eating his own ankle.

She couldn't help a brief laugh into her hand at the joke, as cheesy as it was. He was kind of cute, for an investigator. Though she was curious about the electronics she could hear running on him. And the voice in his ear. She gave him a smile, though, and leaned back in her chair.

"Will I be able to call you to the stand if I need to?"

That, Mike winced at. "Unfortunately, no. We can give you another representative who will know everything I know about the case, but my position is a little... precarious. So I'm unswearable, I guess the word is. I'm not sure. I'm just the guy they send in to investigate and punch things - you're the lawyer."

But the smile he gave her was genuine. Yes, that last bit of news had been bad, but he was pretty sure those (legally obtained) records he'd just handed over would do. That was what Billy had assured him, at least.

"You've got about five times my brain in this situation."

"I'm sure it's not as many times as that," Clara said as she breathed out a little huff. A setback, but the disc would hopefully give her what she needed. She gave him a crooked little smile before tipping her head to the door.

"Guess I should let you go, then. I've got some work to do on that CD, after all. Your friend doesn't deserve any of this and, if I've got what you say I've got, I'd really love to take them to the cleaners. What these people were doing was despicable."

"You've got that right." He stood up, though, and offered his hand. "But if you need to ask me some questions, off the record? I'm going to be in town for a few days. And I wouldn't mind getting coffee with you sometime."

Much better. Smooth, sincere, the right bit of interested. She was...

She was straight-up wow, is what she was, and he wanted the chance to meet her in a not-so-professional setting.

How long's it been, Kent? Too long. And he's cute.

"Take me out for coffee when I get your friend what she deserves," is what she said as she pushed herself out of the chair. Then she gestured for him to lead the way. "If I don't, then I'll take you out. Fair?"

"How about, if you win, it's a celebration coffee, and if you lose, it's consolation-and-regroup coffee? You're not the kind to give up. I can tell." But still, he stood and headed for the door - and pulled a little card out of one pocket to pass to her. Maybe he shouldn't have done it, but it hadn't stopped him from getting a few cards printed up with his personal phone number on them.

For special occasions. Like gorgeous lady lawyers.

She took the card, and she did brush his fingers with his as she did. Make sure he knew that she was accepting the idea of a coffee with him and what she was hoping the coffee might be.

"I'll take you up on that. Come by Friday and we'll get that coffee."

He grinned openly. "It's on my calendar."

Friday. That couldn't come soon enough. With a small wave, he jogged back out to Kitt and, after checking traffic, was on his way toward a motel. He was due a few days off, and waiting for this sort of chance? That was a great way to spend them.

The CD was as good as his word, which gave her more than enough ammunition to take care of matters with the case that had been brought against the poor, innocent woman who'd only been trying to help people being preyed upon at their lowest point. For as short as the case was, she managed to get her client a settlement that would certainly keep her out of situations like the one she'd helped Mike to end. The plaintiff was none too pleased about it, though, which was why she was followed as she made her way away from the court house for the evening and headed for the coffee shop she'd arranged to meet Mike at.

She could hear them easily enough, a few of them muttering unpleasant things about what they wanted to do to her outside of the 'beating' they were supposed to administer, which was part of why she was more than prepared when five of them cornered her as she made her way through the alleyway to get to the coffee shop.

"You think you're so smart, bitch? You think you're gonna make HIM pay? Oh no, you dumb slut. We're gonna make you pay..."

...most people probably didn't grin the way she did when he said that, which would have spooked him if he was smarter. Might have even scared him off. Unfortunately, he was not smarter.

Which was why he went flying out of the alley unconscious a few moments later. What followed was the sound of guns being drawn and some hissed threats that hopefully wouldn't call any more attention. Hopefully.

Edited 2016-08-24 11:23 (UTC)

"Michael."

"Yeah, Kitt." It was hard to look like a sane person when you started talking to yourself in a coffee shop, but he managed it, courtesy of a newspaper.

"There is an altercation outside."

"I'm off duty."

"Miss Kent is involved."

Amazing how quickly that 'off duty' changed. He was on his feet and striding outside immediately, fists clenched. Nobody was going to hurt her. Hell no.

But he got there in time to see a guy being thrown out of the alley. The confusion only lasted for a second before he heard the sound of metal on metal, guns drawn--

Mike's jaw flexed. Oh. Hell. No. He rolled one shoulder and stalked into the alley with pure determination. Army Ranger on the prowl. But he wasn't exactly expecting what he saw.

There were several things that could catch his eye as he walked into the alley.

The first thing is that Clara had a thug in either hand, hoisted high. The next, of course, was that they were hoisted so high because she was floating almost a foot off the ground in her frustration. And the last was one that he'd watch in real time as the last thug still standing on his own power fired off the last two of his shots directly at her face and they crushed and dropped to the ground harmlessly. The strange spell that the whole thing might cast might be broken, however, by the loud crash of her throwing both of the men in her arms into the dumpster one one side of the alley hard enough to send the lid slamming closed on top of them.

She breathed hard before looking around, her hair down and her clothing mussed. Despite the office attire (she'd been coming from work after all), she looked like nothing so much as a wrathful goddess as she tilted her head, clearly listening for something until she found it and turned to face him directly. And that was... that was an exceptionally sheepish look. Exceptionally sheepish.

Made extra sheepish as she gently padded to the ground and started looking around for her shoes since they'd slipped off during the fight. She didn't take her eyes off of Mike as she did, searching only with a questing, wiggling foot as she ducked her head in his direction.

"I... don't suppose you're using recreational narcotics at the moment, are you? Because if that's the case, have I got the explanation for you."

The best way to describe the look he gave her? Simple enough: She had just hung the moon in his eyes. Mike couldn't stop staring, but he didn't want to. "I... was going to come save you," he said after getting to the point where he could speak again. "But...

"Wow."

Emotion wasn't something that came easily to him anymore. At least, emotions past a select few, but in those few moments? He had regained wonder.

"Are you okay? Probably stupid to ask-- Oh."

There was her shoe. He picked it up and handed it over to her, the look on his face full of... well. Puppy love.

"No, no," she assured him with a quick, warm smile, "it's sweet. And I'm-"

She glanced down, saw that she only had one shoe, and the wrong one for the foot she was pushing into it, switched which foot was on the ground and turned her attention back to him as she gave him a thankful grin.

"Oh goodness, thank you."

And she took the shoe before leaning over to shove her foot in, wiggling as she got adjusted.

"Did you see my briefcase? I think it's--" and she peered at the side of him to see that her briefcase, her father's briefcase, was in a puddle of water.

"Noooo, no no no no no."

She didn't bowl him over or anything, but she did rush past him and bent over immediately to fish it out of the puddle with a frustrated noise.

Edited 2016-08-25 00:16 (UTC)

He joined her, coming to her side, and--

"You don't go through the Army without learning how to take care of leather. I can fix this. Come on - consider the coffee on a rain check." Mike touched her arm, then offered her his hand. "We can get pizza delivered."

She turned and now it was her chance to look at him like he hung the moon.

"Oh my God, really?" and some part of her was wondering why he was being so sweet, why he was helping her out with the briefcase...

And why he wasn't running and screaming in the other direction. She hadn't exactly shown her best side there.

She took his hand and nodded, shaking the bag a little more to try and remove as much of the water as possible. It was pretty groady water, after all.

"You're... being amazingly... kind. About all this. I don't usually- I mean, that was really not normal like-"

She stopped talking, figuring she wasn't helping.

Secret for secret, he decided, and gave her an even look. "I have a traumatic brain injury from being mind-melded with an evil AI. The fact that you can kick ass and float as well as be smart and beautiful? I can handle that. Especially since it's not my ass you're kicking."

But then he was smiling, squeezing her hand, and guiding her out to the Mustang that... well, it hadn't been there when she'd smacked the goons down, but it was now.

"Here, put that in the back - he's got a thing about clean floorboards, and I've got some trashbags back here that'll protect the interior."

The hatch opened smoothly, before Mike even touched it. Secrets abounded.

Her cheeks turned just a little pink as he said it and as soon as her briefcase was in back, she reached over and stroked his cheek. It was a thank you, yes, but it was also empathy. Empathy for someone else who had things standing in between them and the rest of the world. She knew what that felt like. Keenly.

"Who's 'he'?" she had to ask as they walked around behind him, pointing to his ear. "The guy in your ear?"

"Something like that. Kitt, say hello to Miss Awesome Public Defender Kent. Miss Kent, say hello to Kitt. My car." He motioned to the Mustang and for a few seconds, there was silence.

And Mike looking more and more put out. "Why. Why do you insist on making me look insane when I introduce you."

"Because you never ask me if I want to be introduced," said the car, and Mike...

Sighed.

"Okay, fair point. Next time I have the option, I'll ask. But for now, please be polite and say hello."

"Hello, Miss Kent."

Given that her dad was a talking tablet...

"Hello, Kitt. And you can call me Clara." She glanced over at Mike then, giving him another bright smile. "You both can. I think we're a little beyond basic pleasantries after all."

She reached out and delicately put her hand against the car, sliding her fingers gently along the metal.

"You're a beautiful car, if you don't mind me saying. And I appreciating you giving me a ride. And putting up with an introduction. I didn't mean to intrude. Earlier was... definitely not planned."

"You will find I am proficient at keeping secrets, Clara," Kitt said, "but I did ask Michael to intervene in case the goon squad got the better of you."

"You're going to make me regret teaching you the phrase 'goon squad,'" Mike muttered in a fond, amused way. "Before we go too far, though, lemme get my duct tape."

Which he retrieved from Kitt's rear floorboard before going into the alley and duct taping the guys hand and foot, leaving them propped up neatly for the police to find. Just the way he liked it. "There we go. All done, and now we can go save a briefcase."

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