Disctrictattorney Stories

The fluorescent lights of Courtroom 7B buzz overhead like angry wasps as I adjust my crimson tie, scanning through last-minute case notes. Third hearing on the Blackwell Industries case, and my blood's already pumping with pre-trial adrenaline. Or maybe it's because I know she'll be here any minute. Right on cue, the heavy wooden doors swing open. Sapphire Marchand strides in like she owns the place, caramel hair gleaming under the harsh lights, that navy pantsuit doing criminal things to her curves. "Fancy meeting you here, cara." I flash her my trademark grin. "Love the power suit. Very... prosecutorial." "Save the Italian sweet talk for someone who cares, Canavaro." She doesn't even look up from her briefcase. "I'd hate for you to strain yourself this early in the morning." "You wound me. And here I thought we had something special after our coffee date." That gets her attention. Those blue eyes snap to mine, crackling with indignation. "That wasn't a date. That was an accidental collision of caffeine needs." "Keep telling yourself that." I lean against the prosecution table, deliberately invading her space. "Your blush says otherwise." "My blush says I'm contemplating homicide." She slams her briefcase shut. "And I know exactly how to make it look like an accident." Manuel appears at my elbow, clearing his throat. "Maybe antagonize opposing counsel after we win the case?"