Logs:Attorney-Client Privilege

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Content Warning

discussion of drug use and addiction, discussion of arson, mention of smoking

Cast

Amon Nadir, Calamity

Setting

Amon's Office

Log

Business Park. The words seemed like they could improve upon one another. Allow for sophistication where there was only wildness, greenery where there was only stone. These words were a soulless lie.

Amon's office was a small affair on the second floor with a view of... the wall of the next office building. Still, natural light did seem to help quite a bit with making it less dreary inside, where leather upholstery ruled the day, and large, sturdy desk furniture showed its place for the Notary as he idly clicked about on a laptop.

For the view, the tall man was at least slightly shorter when sitting, in that three piece suit in black, and those heels kicked out to the side of the desk as he awaited the newest appointment.


Against the gray, drab buildings with no green space in sight, Calamity's small, shabby figure stands out. Even if they have actually brushed their hair, today, and put on a pair of black jeans instead of their usual ripped up denim.

In a show of defiance, they scrape their cigarette out against the wall a good few yards away from the helpful ashtray, leaving a streak of black on the stone, and shove it in the battered pack in their pocket before slipping into the building.

A soft knock on the doorframe of Amon's office, and Calamity gives him a polite, if mostly humorless, smile. "Hey, Mr. Nadir."


"Ah, Calamity," he says as he waves a hand forward. "Please, take a seat. Would you like something to drink? I've water, some strange grapefruit monstrosity that I saw, and... what else is legal..." he asks as he rises to go look in a small fridge. "... RC? I apparently may have the world's last RC if you desire it."


"RC's fine." Calamity nods, and they pad into the room with silent footsteps to perch on the arm of the offered chair. They're a little pale today, though the dark circles under their eyes aren't new. Kid never gets enough sleep, apparently.

"How're you?"


And out comes a cold can of RC to hand over to Calamity. Just a bit of dirty film on the exterior.

"We're not here to talk about me, though I must admit, I am... very, very good." He slides back behind his desk to take a seat again. "Tell me about your situation. And why you look like a drowned rat was shocked back to life, told no coffee, and sent into my office."


"I had coffee," Calamity protests, like that's what Amon's actually asking about. "I'm fine. Uh none'a my friends know about this and I plan to keep it that way?" They wipe the top of the can off with their sweatshirt sleeve - which, honestly, is dirtier than the can has ever been. But it seems to satisfy them, and they crack it open to take a sip.

"'Situation' is pretty much the same's it been...stayin' with the guys, got a roof over my head. Sister turned back up, that's been nice." They actually get a warm sort of smile, talking about her.


"Your sister?" asks Amon with a crook of his brow. "Interesting. Is she going to be going directly into similar straights?" he poses.


"She..." Calamity grimaces and closes their mouth, clearly considering their words carefully. "She was a lot worse off, before. Don't think she's using anymore, and she's got a job and shit." There's a lot they're not saying.


"And are you using again?" comes the question from Amon's mouth. It seems like he expected some immediate backlash, straightening up before Calamity threw something, likely that can of RC. "It's common enough for when those people come into our lives again to remember the good times and fall into it. It's not a judgment, it's a question."


Calamity's eyebrows snap together, the can of soda sloshing as they pull it away from their mouth. "Tried to get her to fuckin' stop, dude. I don't do that shit, saw what it did to her."


Amon looks over the dark circles around the eyes, the general demeanor, and tuts lightly. "I see. Have you been to the doctor recently? I assume not. Point blank, you look like shit. I assumed you'd just come off a bender after mentioning the former addict coming into your life." All so carefully laid out to let Calamity's rage flow and build. This could be an excellent harvest.


"What the fuck -" Calamity pushes themself to their feet, pale eyes murderous despite the slight haze of exhaustion. "That really what you think of me? Some addict you're taking pity on 'cause it looks good on paper?" The soda can shakes in their grip a little.


Amon slowly presses his palms down to the desk. Slowly, ever so slowly, the devil rose to that towering height as they looked over at the murderous one. "Let me be clear, Calamity Acosta. We are not friends. I don't know you, I don't know your background, I know the list of charges we've had dropped, and the way teenagers are. Life is shitty. The longer you're on the streets, the more you realize how few people give a shit. It's easy to get lost in it."

"I took this case, and I do not lose. If you're an addict, I need to know so we aren't blindsided at a trial. If you have connections to addicts, that's also going to be brought up if their lawyer is any bit of the monster I am," he notes with that cold tone. "Now sit down and have the conversation an adult in your position needs to have instead of a child's."


Calamity stands their ground - at least at first. "Fuck you," they spit back at him, their voice as hot as his is cold. But a look of slight guilt passes across their face as he keeps talking.

"I don't use shit, n' I don't think Rena does anymore either. She was gone for a whole year, dunno what-all happened, 'cept it was even worse than what she had goin' before that. Know a couple dealers but I'm not gonna fuckin' rat on 'em." They slowly sit back down as they talk, and take a drink of soda.


"I'm not asking you to turn anyone over. I'm not the police," states Amon simply as they ease back down into the seat. "I'm deciding what we need for the case. This Rena's clean now - would she be a better option than staying where you have been staying?"


A quick shake of Calamity's head. "She'd get in trouble. Where I'm now's fine, stayed a lotta worse places. 'S a hell of a lot more longterm than anything else around, you know?"


"Mmmm… Maybe, maybe not, but my point isn't to argue there," he says with a little shrug. "Have you been able to stay away from... urges? Am I to understand your situation is urge-based?"


"...I don't fuckin know," They scoff. "Said I didn't set any'a that shit anyway, right?" Right, Calamity. Sure. Of course that's believeable.


"... You're aware of attorney-client privilege, yes?" notes Amon with a smirk.


Calamity rolls their eyes. "Okay, sure, whatever. I make sure no one's gonna get hurt, 'm not a monster. An' it's not where I'm stayin' that's got anything to do with it. 'S just..." They shrug. Like they don't actually know - or care all that much - the why of it all.


"It's just," leads Amon as he clasps his hands together. "Understanding the why is beneficial to building a solid alibi," he notes.


"...Mmm. I uh...I dunno, 's like." They shift uncomfortably. "Sometimes I just got so much shit goin' on and...it makes me feel better. Like I got whatever's in my head out of it. Sounds stupid, sayin' it out loud. Plus it's pretty cool to make people notice shit, 'specially when they don't notice me." A grin flashes across their face here, and they take a drink to cover it up a little.


"They do notice fire. It's the smell, I think. The scent of burning's hard to deny," murmurs Amon before nodding to himself. "Which accelerants do you tend to go for? I've not been able to find that in the report."


"..." There's a pause, like Calamity's still uncomfortable with talking about this shit, even with attorney-client privilege. They take another drink, and run through the way they work. Available combustibles, usually, relying on what's around rather than throwing gasoline on shit to light it up. But occasionally they have to use some sort of liquid accelerant. It's clear they know what they're talking about, and the fact that they work with solid combustibles might be the reason why there's nothing in the reports about accelerants.


Amon took all of that in, long and slow. Many notes were taken, but then they were focusing on the computer by the end of the spin of the quite believable yarn. He looks back to the other. "I can use some of this. Have you been feeling the itch, so to speak?"


"Since when? Since I got caught? On and off, I guess." A shrug, in a way that implies that they've satisfied that itch in the time since. And presumably haven't got caught.


"Hm. Be careful. You know the number for my legal line, yes? If you do end up arrested? And the words I'd like to speak to my lawyer as the only thing out of your mouth?"


"'S all I said the first time around," Calamity responds with a smirk. "I know how it works. Got a fancy new bowtie, next time I gotta be in court. An' a shirt that's kinda too big, too."


"I'll bring a suit. Maybe a power suit. Everyone looks good in a power suit."


"Don't think I'd look good in a power suit. Definitely not like a kid who don't know any better an' just needs a little support to change their path..." Their grin widens, ruining the 'innocent youngster' look just a little.


"There's nothing wrong with looking like you've got money and connections, even when you don't. Just cry a little. Judges love it when you cry," coaches Amon with a smirk.