The Lawyer

[Kage R. Jakes] Last Time on the crossover between the Misadventures of Adam Compton, D. A. and The Supernatural Adventures of Kage R. Jakes... [Kage R. Jakes] He opens the door; she walks in. Then she takes off her hat, unpinning it; a coil of hair snakes against her collar. The church is empty, and either Episcopalian or Catholic: a church with high ritual. The pin she sticks back in her hair, but behind her ear, and the hat she holds between her hands, worrying at the brim. Because there are no worshippers at the moment, the place is quiet. There is a half-full pot of coffee on a table just outside the church room proper, and a couple of plastic platters that have doughnut crumbs. Kage pours herself a cup of coffee and she pours a cup for Adam, too, handing it to him without a word. No sugar. No milk. No packet creamer. Black and bitter, gravedirt again. "Wait," she says, and her eyes narrow on Adam's mouth -- as if that was where his sincerity could be gauged. "Wait wait. Was Welly murdered?" She automatically jumps to the most dramatic conclusions. Learn it now, know it forever. And it's hard to search the eyes of someone who isn't looking you in yours, but Kage is beginning to see Adam's drift. What does she know that he needs to hear? [Adam Compton] Welly? The endearment makes him grin, though it is mild in comparison to his sunset smile. Boyish, amused. Charming all the same. "No. Mr. Wellington died of a heart attack. No foul play is suspected." Though he had briefly considered it. When a key witness dies, a lawyer always tends to come to the most dramatic conclusion first. However. Ralph Wellington died of a massive coronary. He'd lived with a heart condition for years, and then one day getting out of the shower. Bam! "Long story short. Ralph was my expert witness. I'm defending a woman who is charged with fraud. Mr. Wellington told me that when he was researching Voodoo... that you helped with a lot of that research. I'm pretty sure he said that you probably knew more about it than he did. Unfortunately Dr. Ralph Wellington holds a little more clout than Miss Kage Jakes." [Kage R. Jakes] Kage listens. When he's done, she holds quiet for a time. Adam is used to people listening to him the way she listened to him: with attention, as if his words were thins to be held and touched and weighed. As if his words had weight enough to change a truth -- or reveal it. He could've been a preacher, probably; charming guy like him. Don't laugh: it's there. He's got presence; Kage can feel it. Her shoulders rise and fall -- a sudden change of demeanor. Welly's dead; it's sad. He wasn't murdered; that's good. He actually gave her credit for helping his research, enouch credit to mention her by name -- and that just makes her feel dirty, besmirched, as if she should never've thought ill of the dead because what if she changed the dead man's name and remade him? So Kage holds quiet for a time. Then she exhales a brief laugh: it's like a kiss of rain; of mist. And brief. "That's a story so short you left off the end; you're correct. I did help Welly with his research into spiritualism and faith traditions in the African Diaspora, but I'm afraid I really don't see what you expect me to do about how much 'clout' my name will wield versus Welly's. But I'd be glad to help; it sounds interesting as all hell. This is relevant to a fraud case?" "What else can you tell me?" [Kage R. Jakes] ooc: AHEM. That "But I'd be glad to help" -- "However, I'd be glad to help." (grin) And "defending" in Adam's post to "prosecuting"! [Adam Compton] "I can tell you that this lady has ripped a lot of people off, pretending to wield all kinds of Voodoo magic." He lifts a hand, and idly scratches at the short cropped hair where a sideburn is slowly growing in. "And whatever else you'll need to know to be able to take the stand and as my new expert witness on the matter, be able to say that she's is without a doubt fraudulent." He pauses, a smile touching his sometimes smug seeming mouth as he cocks an eyebrow in question. "Still be glad to help?" Shaking raindrops from his black wool coat, he slips his hand into his pocket, and pulls out his business card. Like every American psycho, he too has put a lot of thought into his card. Which is off white. Black print. Simple, but elegant. And, for the ladies, it houses his home telephone number along with his business, and cell. [Kage R. Jakes] "How much do you know about 'Voodoo', Mister Compton?" Kage asks, an eyebrow lifted. He takes out a business card and Kage switches her coffee from left hand to right and takes it; her dark eyes scrutinize the elegant script before she tucks the card into the brim of her hat, the name turned inward. [Adam Compton] "Voodoo. Not much. Which is why I needed Wellington. And, why I need you." Women have silently wished to have him say those very words to them in the past. "Magic." His lips purse slightly, and he nods his head, one faint bounce as he rolls his shoulder in a slow shrug. All body language. All confident, and knowing. "I know enough to know when someones faking it." His slow smile spreads easily into a playful grin at the term 'faking it', and one cannot help but get the distinct impression that Mr. Compton is flirting. A skill that he has tried to perfect over the years, along with litigation. "Bottom line Ms. Jakes. Is that I need someone who worked with Mr. Wellington on his research. That's you. Only you as far as his paperwork is concerned." [Kage R. Jakes] Here's where the history gets even vaguer. I'm figuring that maybe the Captain/Ring Leader recruited Ami when she was at a total low point. Yannow, starving, in the gutter, whatever, in trouble with some big shot Officer who she'd won something s/he didn't want to give up offa so who'd then decided to charge her with some sort've crime and slap her with fines. Then Ami'd rig up some sort've interesting set for a fortune telling gig, really flashy, in the hopes that she'd get sommore money. The berth would've been a godsend for Ami, and she'd've signed right up. What'cha think? "He's good." He says, in her ear; there's nothing there for Adam to see or sense. And Kage is no more mad than any of their brethren but she shivers. A draft; it fingers her spine; it touches the nape of her neck. Adam has tried to perfect litigation and flirtation; Kage has tried to perfect focus. The art of cleaving distractions away; of setting them loose -- a tangle of threads, unknotting in running water; a clot of smoke, un-lacing. Not unaffected. Not unaffected by men like Adam. Not unaffected by Him. Damn it: Desire. To swat away. "Ah," she says. A soft sound, in the back of her throat. This is followed by -- well; it's a wry [self defensive] sort've amusement. A cool sort've amusement: controlled, under wraps; contained. "So you need me; this I understand, Mister Compton." "I can refamiliarize myself with what Welly actually put down in his files; I assume that monstrous tomb of his is what everybody's heard about, no? It would be helpful if I knew a little bit about the defendent. The defendent, yes? Their background. Religious background, especially; voodoo is a religion and nobody would win a case against a priest for fraud just because the priest said that he'd made this home super safe against demons but, hey, a tithe for the time, right? You're angling, Mister Compton; and I'd be glad to follow your angle providing it's the right one. What's the day?" Of the trial, she means. [Kage R. Jakes] OOC: DAMN YOUCODE [Kage R. Jakes] "He's good." He says, in her ear; there's nothing there for Adam to see or sense. And Kage is no more mad than any of their brethren but she shivers. A draft; it fingers her spine; it touches the nape of her neck. Adam has tried to perfect litigation and flirtation; Kage has tried to perfect focus. The art of cleaving distractions away; of setting them loose -- a tangle of threads, unknotting in running water; a clot of smoke, un-lacing. Not unaffected. Not unaffected by men like Adam. Not unaffected by Him. Damn it: Desire. To swat away. "Ah," she says. A soft sound, in the back of her throat. This is followed by -- well; it's a wry [self defensive] sort've amusement. A cool sort've amusement: controlled, under wraps; contained. "So you need me; this I understand, Mister Compton." "I can refamiliarize myself with what Welly actually put down in his files; I assume that monstrous tomb of his is what everybody's heard about, no? It would be helpful if I knew a little bit about the defendent. The defendent, yes? Their background. Religious background, especially; voodoo is a religion and nobody would win a case against a priest for fraud just because the priest said that he'd made this home super safe against demons but, hey, a tithe for the time, right? You're angling, Mister Compton; and I'd be glad to follow your angle providing it's the right one. What's the day?" Of the trial, she means. [Adam Compton] "Well.. you see Ms. Jakes. You aren't being called a character witness. It's better in the long run if you don't know anything the but bare essentials about the defendant. The more you know about her, the more you're going to want to form and state opinions, and professional witnesses... well. They aren't allowed to form opinions. It's unprofessional." He grins at the end of this statement, and then as quickly becomes serious again. "What I need from you on the stand is basically, your knowledge of Voodoo. I'll put you up there, and I'll ask you questions that guide you toward the outcome I'm looking for. All you have to do, is know what you're talking about." His gaze meets hers, and it's alight with confident amusement. It's all as easy as that. "Which isn't to say I'm going to toss you up there blind. We'll rehearse the testimony before hand. You will know all of the questions I'm going to ask before I ask them, and it'll be a walk in the park." He slips his hands into his pockets again, as though he were done his little sales pitch. But he goes on. "The hard part is cross exam. We don't get to know all of the questions the other team is going to ask... but as long as you know your stuff, and as long as you warn me in advance if you have any uncertainties, or any blind spots. It's all pretty easy." [Kage R. Jakes] "That's a good trick," Kage says. "Spying a blind spot." Kage is also disappointed. A little. Doesn't let it show: but she is. Has always wanted to meet a con artist who uses Voodoo and other Magic to milk their cows. Blame it on spiritualism. Doesn't let that get her down -- instead, her mouth curves slightly. The shadow of a smile, the breath of one. Her eyebrows cant up: "I don't know what walking in a park with you is like." You'd think that Kage was fishing, moon-fishing: a dark heart as bait, a silver hook; but she is not. "But I still need to know a time and a date. Or at least an approximate time and date; I may set my own hours, for the most part, but I like my time. I use it for things that aren't reading a dead man's research and revisiting old notes." And there was a chuckle: smoke, cinders; ashes. Honey, melting: it was in her ear. Kage lifts her right shoulder: a shrug. [Adam Compton] ((you still here?)) [Adam Compton] "I'll have to get back to you times and dates as far as the actual trial goes. In the mean time. Can we meet at Wellington's? Say, tomorrow night?" He pulls out his trusty Blackberry, a tool that every good business man should never leave home without, and start scrolling through it's calendar. "Say... 6:30?" He looks up from the device and meets her eye. "Pencil me in for a little dead mans research and revisiting old notes?" [Kage R. Jakes] "At Wellingtons?" A question. He's dead, after all: "Which do you mean?" He did work from home quite often, but unless he changed markedly since Kage last worked with him, he also had an office in a nice old Victorian building, perfect for the kind've man Mr. Ralph Wellington was. Had been. The question stays in Kage's voice. Follow the thread out of the labyrinth. [Adam Compton] "At his office." He clarifies, with a glance at his watch. "Can you do 6:30?"" An Adam's apple bobs against the flesh of his throat, barely visible above the thick collar of his jacket. When his gaze meets hers, it is with a lazy sense of urgency. There is nothing pleading, or expectant to be found, just a marked sense of time passing. Because he too enjoys his time. He likes to fill it with things that aren't finding a new witness for a case that isn't paying nearly enough. "Or, why don't you tell me when is good for you. And I'll meet you there." His shoulder too rolls in a brief shrug, as though to say he's easy. Easy to please. Easy, in a lot of ways. [Kage R. Jakes] Kage isn't meeting Adam's gaze at the moment; her eyes are touching a spot in the air just over his shoulder; her gaze just grazes his right ear. Pensive, thoughtful; distant, considering. Then she nods, slightly: "6:30 tomorrow will be fine; I'll call," and she touches her fingertips to the business card poking out of the brim of her hat, "if anything comes up." Now she looks him in the eye. There was a farewell in that I'll call. And now it's for him to add his own and end the conversation.