Moments of Dreams • •

[Deleted]

There were days in Royce's profession that she questioned why she had chosen to be a part of the District Attorney's office. She was still young in her law career, but it was still a struggle on some days to maintain a clear head and a positive outloook. Today was one of those days. From the spilt coffee in the elevator right the way up to the judge almost throwing out her case based on dud evidence. How the latter had happened was even beyond Royce's ability to understand, but now she had until the following day to fix this mess of a trial. Her boss was far from impressed and had cornered her the moment she landed back in the office. Something about a false statement and foiled alibi at the last moment had left Royce in a corner and with no defence to offer. Royce had always been competitive and driven; traits instilled in her by her stay-at-home father. It was also him who had taught her everything she knew about firearms and why she owned two pistols of her own for what she hoped was more of a hobby than ever a need for defence. She had other options before it came to that as far as she could tell.

She knew it would be a late night, probably cooped in her office while she read over the files and folders until her eyes felt like they were going to bleed. Before that though she needed at least some fresh air and a proper meal inside of her. Aside from the bagel she had eaten in the car for breakfast, Royce hadn't touched a thing today. The drama in court had seen her skip lunch to strategise with her boss and try to come up with fresh angles to attack from. She would give her own blood if it would help them win this case.

Hal's was probably one of her favourite places in the city. It was lively, but not so lively that she couldn't think. It was friendly but she could still have her privacy if she desired it. She had taken her favourite booth in the corner and after ordering a chocolate shake and a chicken burger, Royce was back to work, her blue eyes scanning the folder she had brought in with her. She shrugged the pastel jacket off so she could relax a little more, not minding that the chill from the AC and the open door pricked at her bare arms now. It might wake her up a little bit more before she jetted back to the office. Royce had a couple of problems with clocking off. Those problems had cost her the man she thought was her true love, and now she was letting those problems take hold. She saw no harm in working non-stop, living and breathing each case like it was what gave her purpose. Only when her food arrived did Royce reluctantly slip the folder back into her bag and order another chocolate shake to replace the one she had already destroyed. Everyone was starting to come in now for the dinner rush, but Royce was either ignored or unnoticed as she cut her burger in half and then picked up one portion with her slender fingers. The waitress returned with her shake and Royce nodded thankfully, unable to speak around the mouthful of food she so badly needed, and hadn't even realised.

• • •

TAGGED! Open! <3
WORDS! 623!
OUTFIT! Unlucky Lawyer!
LYRICS! When My Time Comes - - - Dawes
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

Harley wasn't one to work himself to death, that's not what his work was about though. His work was different and each client held a different meaning. He had some time to kill so running down to Hal's was a way to break the quiet between each client. He'd walked in with enough time to catch a woman looking to engulfed in her work for her own good. He shook his head and uttered to himself about what a horror it must be to eat, sleep and breathe work to the point of what could be defined as self-destruction. Harley lived his work in other ways, he was committed to his work as a tattoo artist but he didn't let it kill him in slow progression.  Sitting in a booth in front of the overworked woman, occasionally looking up to watch her. She cut her burger and he found that curious enough to look up every once in a while. She had a hell of an appetite and he really couldn't take an eye off her. That was of course, until the waitress broke whatever trance the lawyer held over him. He ordered a plate of chili cheese fries and a domestic brew. While he waited he flopped around on his phone, flipping through pages of social media that he wasn't amused with. His brown eyes zero'd in on this lawyer again. What was it about her that he kept drawing back to her?

He shook his head and slumped in his booth while he waited. The dinner rush was delaying a normally quick plate but he supposed he didn't entirely mind.  "Gonna work ya'self to death?" Harley asked jokingly with a smirk. He probably should have shut up and kept to his own business but his inner trouble maker gave him a jab to prod this overworked government livestock. She had to be government, or really high up on a corporate ladder. "Gotta take a break, let go an' breathe a bit." He told her before the waitress, whom he knew decently barked at him to keep to himself as she dropped his plate in front of him. The plate was covered in sticks of fried potato coated in a greasy ensemble of canned chili and gooey nacho cheese, probably also from a can. Maintaining some dignity, he picked up his fork and quickly lost grip of whatever was left of it by shoveling food down his throat. It wasn't that he was in a hurry, it was habit. He wolfed his food down, in the past it helped him not stay somewhere too long, it helped him slip in and out of line of sight and it kept others from taking what was his. He knew no one was after is food but it wasn't an easy conditioning to break. It seemed ironic, his inhaling of his fries after he told this woman she needed to relax. Oops - Harley's eating habits caused him to choke briefly as his meal slipped down the wrong pipe in his throat. Coughing would sooner clear his throat than panic, but a quick swig of brew helped. He looked up at the woman but quickly looked away, almost shamed by his minor incident with his meal. His waitress could only shake her head at him and give a chuckle as she tended to others. He called her over for another beer. 

"Whattya do tha's so important ya gotta stress ya'self out?" There it was the question that had lingered in his mind since he seen her shove a file into her bag. It wasn't his business, and she probably wouldn't answer him but, he felt this burning desire to ask. Maybe he could get her to relax a while, take a breather from whatever job she had that lay on top of her suffocating the very life out of such a young woman. 

Tagged: Open ~
Word Count: 651
Notes: Just gonna pop him on in here.

[Deleted]

When Royce was invested in a case then it was almost impossible for her to notice the world around her. It had been the cause of the destruction in her last relationship and the break up had only pushed her deeper into that hole of work and courtrooms. Vacations were not something Royce took and a night off was a very rare thing that usually involved a glass of wine and a law book; so it wasn't really a night off at all. Living so far from home and having few friends rarely helped. Those she had made in college had jetted off to live their own lives and the ones still in the city had tired of Royce's work ethic a long time ago. She was very much alone, but she didn't see that as a problem and just buried herself deeper into her job whenever a shadow of loneliness did appear in her hectic life. Royce liked to think that she managed the stress well and kept on top of things. It might be true, but it was also not the healthiest way to live her life and she knew her father and brother would have stern words if they ever saw just how obsessed Royce could be when it came to her job.

A mouthful of food was hardly an attractive shot for a first impression, but it was what Royce gave when she heard the voice speaking to her. Swallowing as quickly as possible she shrugged her shoulders and sucked the burger relish from her thumb. “Who wants to know?” She asked cooly, with only a slight defensive tone. She had been raised to be cautious. Her father, overprotective in every way, had insisted that his only daughter know how to fight and fire any gun that might come into her possession. Nothing bad had ever happened to Royce, but her father slept easier knowing that if anything ever did that she could probably kick some asses and break a few bones. It also instilled a confidence in Royce that might not have been there before. It helped her take the threats thrown her way with a pinch of salt and shrug them off like they were no big deal. If someone really did want to try something then they'd find out what the petite blonde lawyer was capable of and that she kept a pistol by her bed and in her car. “You assume I have time for a break.” Her voice still held traces of that South African accent, but New York twangs were slipping in too now. Almost a decade of living in the city would do that to a girl, but it just took one call home to bring her native accent back in full force. Royce's attention turned back to her own meal when his arrived and she thought it might be the end of their conversation. However when she heard him coughing from the quickly eaten food, she smirked. “Gonna eat yourself to death?” She quipped, mimicking his own words from a few moments earlier.

Looking up again, she tilted her head to the side and paused for a second, her eyebrows slightly raised. No one ever really noticed Royce or asked about her job. She was usually so engrossed in her work that she appeared unapproachable to many. “Assistant District Attorney.” She answered simply, keeping to the point. Royce wasn't one to ramble on nonsensically. Her job taught her to keep to the point and stick to the facts, so she allowed very little time for herself to do anything else. Her social skills were far from perfect and unless she was in a courtroom she wasn't exactly a natural at communicating. Royce was too wound up and much too serious for most people.

• • •

TAGGED! Open! <3
WORDS! 643!
OUTFIT! Unlucky Lawyer!
LYRICS! When My Time Comes - - - Dawes
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

Harley was typically like Royce, too serious and didn't seem to have a 'lighter' side but he'd had a few drinks already and was running away from work for the rest of the day. His plans were to scarf down his food, drink a bit and hit the harbor, or central park, whichever he stumbled into first. Harley never really planned on getting completely drunk while on an outing but he unknowingly slipped from one addiction to another. He didn't notice and often labelled himself 'clean and sober' not noticing that the alcohol was only taking over where the narcotics left off.

The irony was almost too good to be true, he tried to tell her she was working to hard and he chokes on his food? Priceless to the onlooker, annoying to Harley "If I managed to eat myself to death, I'll die happy with a full gut." He laughed "Workin ya'self to death just leaves your last moments wondering what'll happen with th's n' tha' 'n what not. Don't sound very happy to me." Clearing his plate was easy, it was getting that damn waitress to keep bringing him drinks when she knew all too well he'd get violent if he kept going for too long. When she handed him his third drink and took his plate he popped in the bench across from her, in her booth.

"Ain't that a bit cliche? Law Woman swallowed by her work?" He huffed "Don't get me wrong, 'preciate your line of work s'long as I'm not losin' but 'ey c'mon ya gotta live a little too." Her accent caught his ear. He was used to people sounding different but her voice was unique, curious even. He wanted to prove to her that life and work could co-exist but convincing her wouldn't be easy. He hated watching people live without having a breather. She'd age herself faster if she kept on the stress and tension level she seemed to operate at. Of course, he read stress differently than most people. He liked to have fun but could be quite all too serious himself. 

"Listen, you knows, that I can't makeya do nothin ya don'wanna do, but how bout you think about takin' a break?" If he could get her to go now it'd be exhilarating. The more she talked though, the more that curiosity of where she came from grew and the less he focused on her words. "Hey" He said after a silence, "Where're you from?" If he wasn't blunt before it showed now. He pulled his keys from his belt loop and held them in his hand. Probably wasn't a good idea to drink and grab at your keys in front of an Assistant District Attorney, or anyone that into law, but Harley remained reckless no matter who was watching. A grey keytag dangled from his multiple keys. Clean and Serene for Eighteen Months. He got it a couple years ago, really he could have had the black one if he kept going to his meetings and wasn't getting drunk regularly. Alcohol plays on the same part of the brain as heroin and quitting one usually means leaving the other behind as well. Very few can handle booze without relapsing back to dope, the idea of NA was to stay sober and clean and honestly he couldn't handle it. He hadn't relapsed yet but it was only a matter of time. 


"So how bout that break? Walk through the park?" Harley smirked, clipping his keys back to his belt loop "No funny business just a breath of fresh air and a clear mind."

Tagged: Open ~
Word Count: 604
Notes: He's pushy but harmless (today). 

[Deleted]

Royce's frustrations were channelled into her boxing lessons and Aikido classes. When they were dispelled into those activities she felt healthy again. In her mind it was only the frustrations that held her back and could make her ill. So she vented them in the physical ways that she favoured and then frequently returned to her work post-shower, burying herself deep into case files and court orders with a refreshed mind and an adrenaline boost from the sports. It was her little routine and she didn't have anyone else to pull her out of it. The only breaks she took were when she was working at home and heard the pleading barks of her dog when the loyal pet needed some exercise or a chance to use the bathroom.

Arching her eyebrows, Royce barely had to think for a moment before having a reply ready on the tip of her tongue. “It is if your job is what you love and what makes you happy.” There was nothing quite like the feeling of winning a case, hearing the trial turn out in her favour. She had tried explaining it to her father, but Royce hadn't been able to think of anything to compare it to. It fuelled her desire for justice and kept her pushing forward through the more difficult cases that came her way and landed on her desk. When he moved to her booth, Royce just arched her eyebrows again and stared at him. She was the kind of woman to hold her ground and she wasn't about to move or lessen her attention. If the guy turned out to be a nightmare then she could handle him; it wasn't a big deal to her in the slightest.

Smirking a little, Royce moved her attention to her food, grabbing one of the fries and swirling it around in the hot sauce before popping it in her mouth. “Cliché, or just the way it works?” There were other professions that demanded a lot of time from the people too. Hers was definitely not one for slackers or people who wanted to take a few easy days here and there. The hours were long and unless you wanted a sloppy trial and poor fight for justice then you'd stick it out; even if it meant working until midnight and then collapsing into a bed for the minimum amount of possible sleep. “And what's it matter to you if I 'live a little'?” She asked, placing her arms on the table and leaning forward slightly to ask her question.

“You're assuming I have time for a break.” This trip to the diner was Royce's idea of a break. She might have brought her files with her and been reading over them, but she had putting fuel in her body too. She didn't exactly have time to run about the city living for herself, especially not right now. There was a life on the line, justice to be served and she had a professional rivalry with the slimy bastard who was defending in this case. “You're not exactly one for subtlety, are you?” Royce asked rhetorically, popping another cold fry into her mouth this time. “South Africa. Cape Town.” She eventually answered after leaving him to wait for a few long seconds of pure silence. She glanced down at his keys, almost more than ready to warn him about what she'd do if he even thought about putting those keys into an ignition right now. Royce could turn a blind eye to a few minor things, but for the most part she would be the first to reach for her phone to put a call in to the cops she knew rather well, considering how often their paths crossed professionally.

“I have to get back to work.” Royce said plainly, not moving from the booth. She still had her chocolate shake to finish and her intentions were to head straight back to her office the moment that was downed. It was nearly impossible to make Royce break her routine and more often than not she cancelled plans in order to focus on her job.

• • •

TAGGED! Open! <3
WORDS! 706!
OUTFIT! Unlucky Lawyer!
LYRICS! When My Time Comes - - - Dawes
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

Harley didn't like her tone, she was weird, probably high strung. He scrunched his nose at the thought "Work can't make you that happy, can it?" He laughed, in his eyes her job sucked but he was grateful people took on a lawyer position because more often than not he needed one to get his ass out of trouble. It wasn't too long into their chat, if that's what this could be called, that a uniformed police officer walked through the door and sat down on the other side of the diner. Harley's heart was pounding, he wasn't afraid of the officer in particular it was the targeting they did to him, even when he wasn't in the wrong. Today? He wasn't doing anything, just having fun. There were no drugs on him, he wasn't getting in his car, mostly because he walked here and his car was still over by the tattoo shop where he left it. The officer had no reason to call him out. Harley tried not to look back at him but he turned his head briefly and his attention went back to Royce. "I guess it don't matter if ya live a lil' or not, ya'jus look like the kind of woman who needs a bit of fun in her life. Ya look all stressed out. " It wasn't any business of Harley's but he had to figure she enjoyed having the company because not only did she not tell him to bugger on off but she answered his questions and continued to dismiss his offers for a bit of fun. 


"Yeah, okay so ya might not'ave time for a break today but ya gotta have some time at some point. There's gotta be other things you enjoy." Humans were rarely, if ever, a one note type of creature. Things sparked a human's curiosity and it was usually a variety of smaller things. Harley had a lot of interest in a lot of things but he specialised in only a few. He still made time for the others though. It was hard for Harley to not do as he pleased because he'd been doing what he wanted for so long with no consequences other than the occasional jail time or whatever. He liked to remain free versus confined to boundaries.

"South Africa, that's interesting. It's cool, ain't met anyone from South Africa before." He paused "I'm from Detroit" It wasn't a lie really, he a good chunk of time in Detroit before coming to New York and before Detroit he was in North Dakota, which might as well have been Canada...or nothing. It could pass as nothing. Harley was more curious why she lived the way she did and was tempted to ask but he felt he was being bothersome and smiled at her "A'ight I know when I'm bothersome." He spoke in an uneducated fashion that was mood hood slang than real English but that's what he knew. "Ev'n though ya work to hard bro, I 'preciate you doin wha' you do for work. Owe my freedom to a damn sharp tack on tha othaside a'town."

She'd turned his offer for a walk in the park down and Harley could only nod, sliding a business card from his pocket, across the table, as he did his knuckles were easily read, Love Life. They were words Harley lived by these days. He'd spent so long hating life and everything surrounding him that the words were a friendly reminder not to take a single day for granted and to stay happy because it wasn't worth being miserable when your time was limited. His business card was pretty straight forward,

Tattoos by Kane, Walk-Ins Welcome, Appointments Available. Three Kings Tattoo Parlor Completing the front of the card were the Shop's address and number. On the back was basically an appointment reminder. Your skin needs to be in my chair at __________ on __________ with his e-mail and mobile number beneath it. It was decorated with original artwork and otherwise pretty straight forward.

"you ever get some free time, lemme know." He smirked as he stood up assuming she'd never call him. He turned to nod at her as he walked away when he hit what felt like a brick wall. "Sorry." He muttered, not looking up knowing he just walked into the officer, who had probably started to walk over to make sure he wasn't being a problem. A firm watch where you're going was set in place as well as a slightly louder I have eyes all over this city watching you Leeds. Harley scoffed at the statement and shook his head. "Pretty sure tha's stalkin, Officer. I ain't botherin no one, dog. I was askin a pretty lady out on a walk, hardly think that's against the law." A snide remark was made about how no 'pretty lady' would bother with him unless he paid them which left Harley open to a daring "Like your daughter?" but the officer kept composed, shockingly and headed to the bathroom as if that'd been his intention the whole time.

"Don't work too hard now." He reminded Royce with a grin, as he went to the counter to pay for his meal and quietly paid hers off as a nod to her for putting up with his questions. He didn't need to know her name, he just hoped she'd find a reason to call, or text. Even if she was getting inked, hell that'd probably make his day. Could Assistant District Attorneys even have ink? Harley didn't know but continued to question it.  

Tagged: Open ~
Word Count: 932
Notes: Sometimes things pop in my head and I add them in, sensical or not. x)

[Deleted]

“If it didn't then I wouldn't do it.” Royce answered simply enough with a soft shrug of her shoulders. She honestly didn't mind the late nights or the added stress that some cases brought. It was all worth it when a jury sided in her favour. Royce loved the battlefield of the courtroom, the rivalry between the attorneys as they tried to fight for their client or the justice that was deserved. It was exactly what she had imagined and she got that adrenaline rush each time she got to play her part in the story. It was completely worth any of the downsides to the job, at least that was what Royce told herself when she was hunched over her desk burning the midnight oil four nights of the week. “No one ever said the job was easy.” She replied lightly, acting like it was no big deal to appear stressed. Royce could hide it well when it mattered, which was mostly when she was around the opposite party and the judge presiding over the cases she worked on.

Chuckling quietly, Royce moved her hair back from her eyes and reached for her chocolate shake, twirling the straw around the tall glass. “There are. And they're all things that involve physical violence.” It was an interesting combination of hobbies that Royce had, but they were what she loved and what worked to make her feel alive again when a case really did drag her down. Between the time she spent at the gun range and the time at the dojo or the boxing gym, it was any wonder that Royce did the job she did. She definitely had the skills to find herself on the wrong side of the law, but luckily her rationale kept her in check and her hobbies were just hobbies that kept her stress levels down and allowed her brain to shut off.

“Surprisingly there's a whole country of us.” Royce said sarcastically. She was used to people being surprised about where she was from and asking about her accent. She was another transplant in New York City and from time to time that stuck out; even if she had called it her home for nine years already. She remained silent while the inked stranger slipped his business card across the table. New York was certainly full of characters but never had one plonked themselves down in a booth opposite Royce before. Normally they accosted her when she was making a coffee run or taking a morning jog to wake herself up after a long night had left her brain feeling a little bit too fried for her liking.

The appearance of the officer had Royce raising her eyebrows. She hadn't called him over and she could see no reason why he might interrupt her meal. Royce had a bit of a thing about guys trying to rescue her. She could look after herself, her father had made certain of that. Cape Town, South Africa in general had a slightly horrifying crime rate and back when Royce had been a teenager she could have been considered a prime target. For that reason she had been thrust into gun training and combat classes. It left her confident and unappreciative when men tried to play the hero for her. She listened to the exchange with narrowed eyes, shaking her head when the officer vanished into the men's room. Her eyes travelled back to the business card and she bit her lip, eyes flitting back to the bathroom door before she snatched up her bag and jacket, and moved after the officer, not caring one bit about the shock that hit the poor man washing his hands when she barged into the men's room. “Interrupt my meal like that again, insult my integrity like that again and you might just find yourself in front of the commissioner.” The D.A's office held that kind of power and while it was a card Royce had never played before she was already prepared for the day when she might have to turn on a fellow law enforcer.

Returning to the counter only to find her meal had been paid for, Royce turned towards the door and caught the inquisitive man slipping out. Speeding up just enough to catch up, she slung her bag up onto her shoulder and smirked. “If you keep that sort of relationship with the cops up you might just have me working too hard.” She told him, falling neatly into stride next to him now. She had to get back to the office, but the scenic route back might not be too bad an idea.

• • •

TAGGED! Open! <3
WORDS! 790!
OUTFIT! Unlucky Lawyer!
LYRICS! When My Time Comes - - - Dawes
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

Harley was pissed, absolutely fuming over the encounter with the officer. He hadn't done anything and shockingly enough hadn't been in trouble in a week..ish. As he walked he kept his eyes on the ground, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk. He heard footsteps approach him briskly from behind and while keeping a stride he whipped around defensively. "Oh! It's you!" He said quickly, relief evident in his voice as he turned to face the direction he was walking. "Man, they pick on me like you wouldn't believe. I've been in and out of cop cars for years...sometimes for just walking down the street." Harley had kept every piece of paperwork of his encounters with the cops in the area that he had. If he got detained and paperwork was filed, he got it. Police reports, restraining orders, and a very long copy of his criminal history. He knew one day something would go too far and he would probably need them.

"I mean, okay, don' get me wrong or nothin cause I've cause hell roun' 'ere but sometimes I ain't doin shit n I get harassed and detained." Harley huffed "I almost punched that guy outta reflex. Yaknow? Sometimes I wish I was still tearin' this place up so they got some real shit to detain me for." Harley chuckled "I'm bout done wit this system, it don't work for the people like me. " Harley shrugged and actually, now that he was thinking about it, he did have a hearing over a drunk and disorderly charge in a matter of days. Harley had grown up in system after system he was the state's problem and they let him do what he wanted so he remained the state's problem, until he became a federal problem.

Harley had a record that was almost not worth defending, he was facing public disturbance charges, had mountains of drug possession charges and a grand total of two felony drug trafficking charges. He also had a line up of harassment charges, a pile of restraining orders, a ban at a few local clubs and bars, and there was one that he didn't particularly want to talk about, it was being disputed in court again as he continues to try to fight. It was a domestic violence charge that actually put him on the sex offenders registry. He had a couple domestic violence charges but they were nothing compared to the one that popped red flags on his name anywhere he went. He gripped his keytag from NA out of frustration at the thought, his grip got tighter, and tighter until the plastic started to bend and show signs of tearing. He released his grip from the keyag and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm tired of being chased out of the city...." Harley clarified as he looked over his shoulder to check for cops. The coast was clear, for now but he seen a cruiser in the distance. It wasn't close enough to duck into cover yet. 

"Outside of moving I don't know what else to do. " Harley explained, was it really fair for someone who hadn't gotten caught, recently, breaking a real laws or anything justified? As the cruiser approached closer, he ducked into an ally out of site as it passed by. When it was gone he caught back up to Royce. "I'm Harley...by the way. Most people just call me Kane, so you're welcome to which ever you prefer I guess. " He told her while looking over his shoulder again. The officer in the diner probably had radioed the others, regardless of threat, and told them he was on the run. Quite the bold faced lie, but it wasn't like Harley could radio the other officers and let them know that he wasn't running, he was going home, kind of.

Tagged: Open ~
Word Count: 642
Notes: whoops 

[Deleted]

Royce wasn't a troublemaker. She never had been. Her nose was always clean and she was never around when the mess did hit the fan. She helped a few old friends out of trouble in the past, but those were secrets both parties would take to their graves. Plus, it had been college mistakes or high school foolery. It was never anything serious enough to shock Royce into turning to the police. She was a lawyer, yes, but she had her own moral code to follow too. Her job took priority now and it always would for as long as she held the position, but in the past she had known how capable people were of making mistakes. In the courtroom she was fierce, unforgiving and usually out for the highest penalty she could find, but that often faded away when she was on the street and back to being plain old Royce who liked toffee chessecake, whiskey and sports bars while hating sparkling water, tunnels and gin. It was almost like she was two different people when in fact there was only the one woman who stared back when she looked into the mirror.

She wasn't even remotely swayed by the appeal of danger, but that officer in the diner had rubbed her the wrong way. She supposed she was still new to the job and not every cop was going to recognise her face, but she still thought they owed everyone some common respect. In there she had been blanked and yet a complete part of the incident. It had triggered a slight slip in that well kept temper and Royce's sense of justice had been what had sent her after the man. She didn't know why the cop had reacted in such a way or what the full story was, but she was a lawyer and it was sort of her job to find that sort of thing out. Royce listened, not mumbling or trying to interject when a thought floated into her head. She only spoke up when she felt like she really had to. “I know I'm not a cop, but remember I'm with the D.A's Office. I'm not exactly the best person to talk about this with.” Her heart had been set on the District Attorney's office since long before her spell at Harvard Law School. Prosecuting those who needed to pay for their crimes had been the whole reason why Royce had become a lawyer in the first place. She knew there would be times when she didn't agree with a colleague or a case but that wasn't her position to fight. All she could do was a damn good job when it mattered most.

Royce turned when he dipped into the alleyway. She watched the cruiser go by, unable to even identify the officers inside of it. It didn't really matter, but it was a habit. Her father had told her throughout her life to remain alert and perceptive and now she took in the things that were related to her job. It didn't matter what company she was with or where she was, those NYPD uniforms and cars were always noticed when they were in her vicinity. She didn't know how, but she just knew that one day they might be important to her or to a situation. Royce didn't take chances when it came to personal safety. “Royce. And that's all most people call me, too.” She only had one nickname and these days it was either used by her brother simply to wind her up or by drunken friends. It wasn't a nickname she enjoyed and it certainly wasn't one that would see her taken seriously in the courtroom. That was already a minor problem considering she was young and more experienced lawyers liked to try to prey on that. Luckily, Royce was prepared ever since her old Law professor warned the class about it and she didn't pack her punches lightly when she walked before the judge and jury.

• • •

TAGGED! Open! <3
WORDS! 675!
OUTFIT! Unlucky Lawyer!
LYRICS! When My Time Comes - - - Dawes
NOTES! This isn't my best! Sorry! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

"Well I'd rather tell you before we meet in some courthouse" He laughed "I served my time for what I've done, so what I'm layin out is all history and relevant anxiety over these pi-, officers, harassing me." Harley had caught his words almost calling the police officers pigs, then he remembered who he was talking to. He spoke and walked quickly, out of habit of running from others. "D.A's office is pretty high end job, I mean ya makin bank but ya workin hard for it. Specially if ya dealin with people like me, or worse." He laughed and nudged her. "'mon man tha's funny." He shook his head and laughed a little harder, actually stopping to prop himself against a brick wall. It was probably only funny to him because he had a few drinks and he was feeling good about life right now. In someways the alcohol plagued him more then the heroin ever had. Why? It was legal, easier to get and get as much as he wanted. It came in cheaper varieties and he didn't have to worry about one shot of booze being a lethal injection with his name on it. Deciding it wasn't funny anymore he carried on.


"So, Royce hm?" He smiled "I like it, could call you Rolls!" He got excited really quickly over the nickname but the excitement faded quickly"You probably get that a lot huh? The same way people choose to call me chopper." He snorted, holding in laughter. He walked in silence for what seemed like fifteen minutes before Harley spoke again, this time seriously. His tone carried curiosity, concern, child-like wonder and buried in there was a hint of jealousy "What's it like?" He sighed "Workin for Big Brother, and why come from South Africa to do it?" Harley didn't know what it was like to have that opportunity, he'd grown up without that stern backhand he needed to kick his life into shape. "I mean...What keeps you motivated?" Really she was surrounded by just as much bullshit as he was day in and day out. She probably dealt with a lot worse than drug dealers, hookers and violent addicts. She probably had seen a lot worse off cases come through the courtroom. Harley didn't know how someone who seen so much of it, seen these people face to face could come out of it with strong work ethics and dignity. He had a feeling it was the justice being served, but what happened if the perp got off scott free? Was the same feeling of satisfaction?

"I don't know how you do what you do, or why you do what you do, but I'm glad you do what you do." Harley wasn't lying, sometimes he wished he'd stayed in prison so he didn't come back out here and sell poison to someone's mother, daughter, sister, father, brother, son, cousin, aunt or uncle. These were peoples lives he was making money off of and he didn't give a shit about any of them, with the exception of two. He didn't deserve what he had, he didn't deserve to be healthy, happy or even breathing with how many lethal doses he'd handed over to the junkies that worshiped the ground he walked on.

The trouble with him walking down the street in daylight was him being recognized by the junkies in the area, he'd be damned if one of them was going to run up on him and expose him as a dealer right in front of an assistant D.A. That would be his luck and he kinda wished he had a hoodie to pull the hood over his head. It was too hot for that really but he'd do it if it kept the hounds at bay. Harley was more often than not approached when he was just sitting parked somewhere obscure and waiting for them, that's usually how they knew it was safe. They'd get in the passenger seat and they'd do business. Sometimes Harley would talk to them, but only for a moment, or drive around the block to keep suspicion down. It worked mostly, and when he noticed there were too many cops, he'd sit somewhere else or wait till dark.

Tagged: Open ~
Word Count: 711
Notes: ick, sorry

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Royce knew that there were members of the police department who could be infamous for holding grudges against criminals. They were harsh, corrupt and not the kind of people who she would like to be controlling the law in the country. However there was very little she could do about that unless they were taking to the stand in one of her cases and she had proof to quash their testimony. That had only happened once though, on a bitter case that had her feeling sick and struck personally with most of the people involved at the office. It wasn't her job to control the cops though. She was just a lawyer and more often than not she was the lawyer on their side too. As much as she loved her position and her work, she knew the justice system was far from perfect, but at least Royce could minimise the errors made by being part of it and working her ass off to make sure that everything she did was airtight and kosher. “If you say so.” Royce said, a slight shrug of her shoulders. When it came to work she was very much a professional and she didn't think that there was all that much to laugh and joke about with her career.

Her name had been selected by her father who would always just tell her that he heard it on an old movie and decided it was going to be her name. Apparently the character had been strong and quite heroic and he liked the idea of passing that onto his daughter. She liked the name, found it better to be memorable and different than part of the massive mix of Hannahs who had all been in her high school year. There were so many of them that they had needed nicknames to even begin identifying them. “I've had it before. And worse.” The one she hated most was the name her family kept for her; Roycie. It had been cute when she was four, but now it was not something that fitted in with her professional lifestyle and extremely serious profession. Harley's questions were ones that Royce had faced a million times before and she gave him the same answers she offered to everyone else. “My parents were from the states originally. They moved to South Africa when my mother took a job at the embassy. I guess I wanted to see what their lives had been like before all of that. Becoming an A.D.A has been my dream for so long that I didn't see any other choice in the matter; I was getting the job by hook or by crook.” She paused, adjusting her jacket in her arms and flicked her hair from her eyes. “Crime back in Cape was a little on the high side, especially for certain types of people. I had it drummed into my head for so long that I started to see it when it wasn't even happening. Even now I do it. So motivation is probably that I know I have the power to prevent the crimes and protect people, so I do. It's as simple as that.” She had always said she would never turn a blind eye to a crime and Royce meant it. Becoming a lawyer was just a legal way of dealing with that and a way of getting paid for it. Although she knew she had the abilities and the training to stop something on the street if she was feeling dumb enough to try to be a hero.

The world could be a dark place, but Royce liked to see the light in it too. Her brother joked that she was crazy for seeing hope when others would give up, but Royce always argued with him about it. His hope came in the form of his wife and son, whereas she was her own hope. Sometimes cases and trials didn't go the way she wanted them too, but she did her best every single time to make sure that she couldn't walk out of a courtroom blaming herself for her failings. Even on the tough cases, the ones where the culprits were just as much victims themselves had Royce forcing her emotions into a locked box so that she could do her job ruthlessly. When all was said and done she would find time to sigh, or cry, or jump for joy, but the rest of the time she operated almost like machinery with a conscience. The long hours and dedication had always paid off and Royce had yet to see a reason to stop.

• • •

TAGGED! Open! <3
WORDS! 782!
OUTFIT! Unlucky Lawyer!
LYRICS! When My Time Comes - - - Dawes
NOTES! <3 <3 <3