Post by Jason Cullen on Aug 20, 2013 8:59:28 GMT -6
((ooc: Title is totally irrelevant The Civil Wars' lyrics because I love em, hope Jason is okay for you like this Cara! If not, as usual, just lemme know.))
The last thing Jason Cullen wanted to do that day was deal with yet another marriage-gone-wrong case. For some reason, the partners always liked assigning him to deal with these – he wasn’t sure why, maybe his naturally cynical and therefore practical attitude towards love and marriage meant he was more suited to deal with the strictly legal basis of it? Or maybe they were just dicks who liked to see him squirm because they knew fine well he hated dealing with the annulment and divorce clients? Because it could get messy, sometimes, more so with the divorce settlements thrashed out between two warring clients over the conference table in the office whilst Jason had to sit beside their client and argue their case whilst the spouse sat with their lawyer and argued right back. Often over petty things like who got to keep the dog or that television they’d bought together. Lots of shouting often, lots of coffee needed for the lawyers, and lots of painkillers to deal with the headache that ensued when Jason would finally duck out of the meeting room and collapse at his desk, cursing the very institution of marriage for its legal intricacies, especially when it went bad. Too much like hard work, that was the real issue he had with divorce and annulment proceedings.
Which was why on that morning when Holmes passed him over another file, a piece of green paper sticking out of it – that only meant one thing – Jason had a mind to throw it right back at him, boss or no boss. “Oh come on, don’t do this to me, I am begging you,” he threw his hands up in the air, a touch dramatic perhaps but that was Jason. He sat forward in his desk chair, hand hovering over the file as he made to push it back to his superior. “Don’t. Just take the file back and give it to- give it to- screw it, give it to Clarke. He’s off with the fairies still all shiny eyed and optimistic with human rights bullshit, give him this to bring him back down to earth on what we really gotta deal with here.” When Holmes merely gave him a look, a look that in its subtext held a lot of ‘take the case or clear your desk’, he groaned and grumbled but picked up the offending paperwork in question. “I hate you,” the man muttered under his breath as his boss retreated to his fancy office.
He heard, of course, but didn’t bat an eyelid or even turn back around as he threw casually over his shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Cullen. The client is waiting in the conference room.”
He dragged out a sigh, casting a glance round the office at his colleagues working away at their desks, catching Zeke Jones’ eye long enough to mime shooting himself, dramatic as always, before he heaved himself away from his desk and made a beeline for the conference room where their client awaited. Pausing to button up his jacket and straighten his tie – they did need to appear professionals at least – he then opened the door and stepped into the room, “Good morning, I’m Jason, Jason Cullen, I’ll be working on your behalf to make sure-” his usual spiel stopped at the sight of the woman in the room. “Peyton? I…” he looked around as if checking there was no one else in the room, even glancing back at the door he’d just passed through as if to check his feet hadn’t somehow magically whisked him into another office entirely. He let go of the door and it swung ominously shut behind him, leaving the two Cullens secluded in the room. “Peyton… you’re not… you’re not married… what the fuck?!” he asked, his eyes suddenly wide and, to be honest, angry as he came face to face with his (not so) little sister.
The last thing Jason Cullen wanted to do that day was deal with yet another marriage-gone-wrong case. For some reason, the partners always liked assigning him to deal with these – he wasn’t sure why, maybe his naturally cynical and therefore practical attitude towards love and marriage meant he was more suited to deal with the strictly legal basis of it? Or maybe they were just dicks who liked to see him squirm because they knew fine well he hated dealing with the annulment and divorce clients? Because it could get messy, sometimes, more so with the divorce settlements thrashed out between two warring clients over the conference table in the office whilst Jason had to sit beside their client and argue their case whilst the spouse sat with their lawyer and argued right back. Often over petty things like who got to keep the dog or that television they’d bought together. Lots of shouting often, lots of coffee needed for the lawyers, and lots of painkillers to deal with the headache that ensued when Jason would finally duck out of the meeting room and collapse at his desk, cursing the very institution of marriage for its legal intricacies, especially when it went bad. Too much like hard work, that was the real issue he had with divorce and annulment proceedings.
Which was why on that morning when Holmes passed him over another file, a piece of green paper sticking out of it – that only meant one thing – Jason had a mind to throw it right back at him, boss or no boss. “Oh come on, don’t do this to me, I am begging you,” he threw his hands up in the air, a touch dramatic perhaps but that was Jason. He sat forward in his desk chair, hand hovering over the file as he made to push it back to his superior. “Don’t. Just take the file back and give it to- give it to- screw it, give it to Clarke. He’s off with the fairies still all shiny eyed and optimistic with human rights bullshit, give him this to bring him back down to earth on what we really gotta deal with here.” When Holmes merely gave him a look, a look that in its subtext held a lot of ‘take the case or clear your desk’, he groaned and grumbled but picked up the offending paperwork in question. “I hate you,” the man muttered under his breath as his boss retreated to his fancy office.
He heard, of course, but didn’t bat an eyelid or even turn back around as he threw casually over his shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Cullen. The client is waiting in the conference room.”
He dragged out a sigh, casting a glance round the office at his colleagues working away at their desks, catching Zeke Jones’ eye long enough to mime shooting himself, dramatic as always, before he heaved himself away from his desk and made a beeline for the conference room where their client awaited. Pausing to button up his jacket and straighten his tie – they did need to appear professionals at least – he then opened the door and stepped into the room, “Good morning, I’m Jason, Jason Cullen, I’ll be working on your behalf to make sure-” his usual spiel stopped at the sight of the woman in the room. “Peyton? I…” he looked around as if checking there was no one else in the room, even glancing back at the door he’d just passed through as if to check his feet hadn’t somehow magically whisked him into another office entirely. He let go of the door and it swung ominously shut behind him, leaving the two Cullens secluded in the room. “Peyton… you’re not… you’re not married… what the fuck?!” he asked, his eyes suddenly wide and, to be honest, angry as he came face to face with his (not so) little sister.
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