𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄. || 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘹 𝘰𝘤

𝟎𝟕 ➻ i'm the fat guy

♛ ┇ ▒ ⋅⋅⋅ WALKER ENT. V. GREENFIELD CORP. ⋅⋅⋅ ▒ ┇♛

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 entirely of sleek, warm-toned wood, with fluorescent lights sunk into the white-painted ceiling. Well-dressed, colorless people sat around in the pew-like benches, scattered about like the world's least appealing cupcake sprinkles.

Harvey and Mike were seated first and second chair, on the left of the judge. The opposition, whose names Quinn couldn't bother to remember, were on the right. She wanted to look the defendant in the eyes and see if she could tell whether or not he was innocent or guilty.

Then, she warned herself not to do that. Because today, she was just an audient.

She'd been to church when she was younger. Private Catholic school. She and Mike bonded over their similar experiences on the matter, but even though it was so long ago, she still couldn't get the memory out of her mind.

She had a severe case of MRM, or Mike Ross' Memory. The court reminded her of a sermon, the judge as a priest, with the defendant as a sinner who refused to confess. She was sure that if she tried to leave her seat now, she'd be compelled to genuflect as she exited the row.

"Your Honor, this case should be thrown out," the defense lawyer claimed, standing before his table with all the air of a man who believed he was 100% in the right. "Other than her story, the plaintiff doesn't have one piece of evidence."

Is that wedding ring on his finger? How exactly does he explain this case to his spouse? 'Yeah, honey, work was great today. I tried to get a potential sexual predator off, scot-free. Pass the sugar, sugar.'

"Because the evidence lies within their personnel files, which they're conveniently refusing to hand over." Harvey's response was even and confident, his hands laced in front of his lap as he sat on the edge of the table.

"Those files contain sensitive information," the lawyer replied with a monotonous drawl. "He's fishing at the expense of our employees' right to privacy."

"Please," Harvey scoffed, jerking his head at how ridiculous it sounded. "They don't give a rat's ass about his employees' right to privacy. Sorry, that's actually unfair to rats' asses." He got to his feet and meandered over to the judge's podium.

"Your Honor, Mr. Specter's claim that we don't care about our employees, though belittling, doesn't carry any weight as a rule of law."

Mike smiled through his hand at the defense lawyer's reaction as Harvey continued on. "True, but what does carry weight is that an investigation of sexual harassment must be conducted without any duress."

"Your point?" The elderly judge inquired, looking at Harvey through thick, full-moon glasses.

"The investigator and every person being interviewed answers to the CEO they're investigating. That is the definition of duress." He emphasized each word and then turned on the bailiff with a pointed finger. "It'd be as if your bailiff accused you of sexual harassment, and you assigned your stenographer to investigate. Now, how likely would it be that this investigation yielded any fruit?"

Quinn leaned back on the bench and watched Harvey approach the portly bailiff, who wore a hesitant expression at the thought of such a scenario.

"You honestly think I would harass Herman?" The judge asked, his jowls bobbing as he spoke.

"Well, I don't know, Your Honor," Harvey said with an innocent shrug. Mike couldn't contain his amused smile, and Quinn couldn't help but see how completely done the opposing attorney looked. "Some people have a thing for the uniform."