Glee, Scott and BIG expectations.
Scott straightened his tie before he knocked on the door. It was one of those doors that had complicated directions to reach. If Sara were here, she’d be humming bits from Phantom of the Opera. Just as well that she was doing something obscure and possibly fascinating somewhere else on the planet.
The name Glee conjured to the brain some chirpy, grown-up version of Orphan Annie. Someone who could burst out into song at a second’s notice and dance at the drop of a hat. Sam’s description of glee conjured up a scruffy-haired troglodyte who had to be reminded to eat. And perhaps wore goth fashions.
Knowing Sara like he did, Scott kept his preconceptions to himself and knocked.
“Enter,” said a clear, high voice. Emotionless.
Scott did as he was bade. It was a small space, largely dominated by file boxes and shelving. His space was diplomatically clear. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Scott Summers.”
“The alliterative ambassador between myself and more nypical jurors, judges and other lawyers, I heard.” She surfaced from behind the monitor and revealed herself to be a stunning beauty. Athletic, favouring the robust side rather than whippy. There were obvious traces of Native American in her features. Her clothes were crisp and clean and without ornament. “Glee Wydham. My great-grandmother was a member of the Cherokee nation before you ask.”
“Get asked a lot?”
“It’s usually the first question. And thankyou for looking me in the eye.”
They shook hands. She tested his strength like any man would. “Well… for want of a better way to explain it… I’ve been practicing.”
“Prescient of you. I approve. I half expected some telegenic lug who breezed through on technicalities and didn’t know the first thing about treating women like people.”
“Thank-you-I-think,” managed Scott.
“Sit,” said Glee. “How good are you at memorizing things?”
“Not that great. Sorry.”
“Your lug score just went up.”
“But you need a friendly lug or you’re going to lose, right?”
“I can work you up some question cards. You know how to ask embarrassing questions? Either for you or for the one on the stand?”
“I’ve… had practice at that, too.”
“Hm. We’ll see. Trial’s this afternoon. I’ll hand you your scripts and you read them. Do you need those glasses?”
“Yes. If I take them off, anything I look at gets blown to bits.”
“Nasty. We’ll find a way to cope. Fortunately Judge Kedishae is sypathetic to the -ah- genetic outliers. Good news for you, good news for us, and especially good news for our client.”
“I have a client already?”
“We have a client. Messy divorce. Wife claims he used his mutant powers to make her marry him. Seeking to introduce multiple counts of rape as well.”
“*Can* he mind-control?”
She looked at him like a dog who had just done a very clever trick. “Smart question. An equally smart question is: how can we tell?” She smiled a rare, venomous smile. “And you have until one PM to figure that out, because that’s when we’re due in court.”
“Fab.” Scott activated some chat software and quickly found Sara. Thank goodness for brilliantly intelligent mutants who rarely slept.
He typed, _Need way to fake a mind-controller into controlling some1. NE hints?_
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