O Sol e a Lua

Tren al Sur

Manhattan, New York
6/15/2099

[Y/n] arrives at the University of New York, sighing softly as he parks his car, heading into the large campus while flashing his student ID at security, walking confidently through the halls.

Today would be a day where the best words to describe it would be mundane, all [Y/n] was doing was studying and reviewing evidence from a recent, small, criminal case that he had been given to simply pass time- everyone knew [Y/n] was a genius on the courtroom, so why give him such tedious tasks?

The man thought the same thing, a soft frown decorating his face as he walks into a classroom, students, all in their 20's or so, sat in their respective seats, [Y/n] taking his in the middle section of the arrangement, taking out the things that were necessary as the class winded down their morning blues to start their day.

Mr. Kingston comes in, clearing his throat and allowing the class to settle down, reviewing the topic they had talked about last time briefly before promptly jumping back in, his voice an old scratchy comforting one- black eyes scouring the classroom for those who needed a little extra explaining.

[Y/n] smiles subtly, opening his little notepad and clicking his pen, jotting down little notes about the small video of an interrogator and a suspect, noting the crime, the hints of tension in the suspect, everything to indicate the best course of action in a court case for this mystery person. They had already reviewed the crime, the crime scene, the evidence that led to the suspect, and not the interrogation itself, it was all a long process honestly.

"I'm going to stop the video here, I'd like to tell you why a plea deal, in this situation, would be the best course of action."

Mr. Kingston emphasizes his words by his hand gestures, more expressive with his body rather than his always intimidating expression. For such a scrawny man he did have quite the presence. People listen intently to his words, the lesson and instructions dragging out a little longer than intended, questions popping up like a never ending hunger for knowledge.

Mr. Kingston thought these were just naive students, they didn't know the horrors and mental tolls of being a lawyer, not fully anyways, until came in a [H/c] haired young man, as eager as the rest, but twice as hard working. Mr. Kingston had grown more than fond of [Y/n], they both connected in a way where it resembled a father-son bond, Mr. Kingston was always a little more tough on [Y/n], but in the end of the day this 'kid' was truly the cream of the crop.

The class- just this one, they had plenty more to go through- ends as usual, the question Mr. Kingston always said at the end of the lessons leaving students to think even after his class, finding it best he'd let their minds work while given no further instruction. [Y/n] obviously hangs back, a playful smile erupting on the students face as he saunters to Mr. Kingston's desk, taking the black and white rubix cube into his [S/c] hand, playing around with the cube until he gets bored.

"Don't you have anything else Mr. Kingston?"

Mr. Kingston snorts, patting [Y/n] on the back.

"Kid I can't always spoil you like Matthew does. Anyways, how's your bullet wound doing?"

[Y/n] had almost forgotten about the wound he had gained from the attempted robbery, looking at his shoulders before nodding his head, the healing was smooth, nothing to worry about.