McFazzer
Newbie Attorney
Posts: 14
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« on: August 23, 2010, 06:36:11 am » |
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As I silently move into the audience the tiny dust particles are highlighted by the soft light radiating from the light-source overhead. As I sit in the surprisingly soft seat I glace at my watch, a cheap plastic thing I purchased outside to substitute for my more expensive one that would have been caught out by the metal detectors and security guards, for all its non-time-keeping peripherals and gizmos. I have decided Daemon Wolfe would not be a suitable spectator so I have come as John Rathbone. A British gentle-man dressed in a tweed suit, more suitable to be in 1901 than such a modern setting. Peering out through ever-so-slightly misshapen salt-and-pepper hair I look closer to forty-five than my natural nineteen. The best part about being Mr Rathbone means that despite being out-of-place I can keep eyes averted with a superior air accustomed to a well-born British aristocrat. My contacted sapphire blue eyes scan the court-room taking in every detail and all possible escape routes. I settle in for the rest of the trial.
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