Hello everyone. This time I'm doing a courtroom fic. I needed a quick break from trying to figure out how to schedule everything else in with my schoolwork, so I just wrote up this little drabble. If you've read the first chapter already, reread this again. Review, please.

Alfred Jones has been accused for assaulting a young man, breaking into his house and fracturing his leg, also leaving dark bruises on his arms and back. Could this be a simple act of violence… or sexual assault? The lawyers have been chosen, and the case has begun. And soon it will be up to the jury to decide what must be done. But little do they know that there is a hidden force that has been and will secretly be driving all their future decisions…

"Objection!" The silver-haired Russian, Ivan Braginski by name, stood up from his seat, shaking with unmistakenable fury. None had seen the young man so shaken and angered up until this moment; the calm and adorable disposition he had at first graced the court with had now all but vanished, the smile replaced with a maddened scowl. It was the undenyable truth: Ivan, despite the good impression he had given the jury at the beginning of that day, was angry.

The case had begun, the opening arguments given and considered. Ivan was a very new but very, seemingly and so far, potent lawyer. It was his first case, and he had given a good show so far… but now this appeared to be a turning point. His lack of practice that his opponent had gained throughout the years seemed to be working against him, and his temper was short. Apparently he had also planned his words very carefully and tried to work out as well as outthink every single question that would be asked by the latter, but his preparations had fallen a bit short.

The man himself was young and energetic, with an air of respect that hardly anyone dared to trespass. Once an immigrant from Russia, his native country from which both his parents had been born, he seemed to have never adjusted correctly to the change of temperature that was likely to be expected of a transition from Russia to England, where he now was eking out a living as a lawyer, so he adorned a long, thick, white scarf wherever he went and refused, stubbornly, to remove it. He knew this was a conflict with some of his clients and of course the judges, for no one wished to have a lawyer with a rather fixed obsession on a seemingly meaningly object, but this scarf was special. Given to him by his sister who had remained in Russia, it appeared to hold endless value to him, and he would not give it up, would not have it taken from him—he was the only child of his family to have moved away from his fatherland, and now he seemed compelled to cherish all memories of what was once his home.

Ivan had gone through extensive training for this job and had recently passed the bar exam the month before, and now was his chance to make his name. He, by all means, had no intention of giving the title back to the one who had possessed it for so long already.

"Your Honour," reasoned Ivan, slamming his well-practiced fist onto the oaken table before him since he couldn't reach any other object. "That question is irrelevant to the case! It invades my client's personal privacy and information, and I will not accept that! Furthermore the question asked leads nowhere! What we want to know is should we or should we not convict Alfred Jones for sexual assault or simply violence, but we, of all things, should not be bombarding the victim with stupid questions!"

Ivan pointed with an ever-precise finger at the defendant, and even from their seats, which were much more than a few mere yards from the lawyer's position, the members of the jury could see the burns and marks that were results of years of hard labor in the Soviet Union. "Alfred Jones," he stated carefully but lucidly, "supposedly harrased my client on several other occasions known to the court, da, but this is not—"

"Enough! Objection overruled!" snapped the judge, readjusting his powdered wig that refused to stay on his head properly, slipping at odd moments to reveal his natural blonde hair. "Any questioning is permitted here in the courtroom, irrelevant or not, as stupid as they may be. You forget, Mr. Braginski, that you too are subject to the law here. The bloody law," he muttered under his breath. However it was plainly visible to see that he thought of the man as inexperienced and harsh. "Now take your seat."

"…but… I…" Although he tried for a few moments to think of a way to argue, Ivan soon recognized defeat, and his purple eyes glowed dangerously as he somberly replied, "Yes, Your Honour…"

Ivan quickly saw that a court case run by Arthur Kirkland was not the easiest one to be won, and certainly not a case against this certain lawyer, this opponent. Any other, perhaps, but not this one.

Ivan reluctantly lowered himself back into the chair, glancing at his opponent with pure hatred, a dismaying aura omitting from him that would have completely impaired the confidence of any other lawyer than Gilbert Beilschimdt.

Gilbert smirked to himself as he sat up straighter in his seat, his confidence even stronger now that he had flared the anger of the other man. Only a little way to go and I'll have them…

It was perfectly obvious to guess who Gilbert would have been defending in such a case. Alfred leaned over close to the albino, whispering, "How much longer do we have to sit in here, man? You promised me an early release. I paid for it, and now I want out!"

"Give me some time, freund, this job is no easy feat. You think most people accused of a crime like yours get out early? Or even out at all? Listen—you're lucky if this trial lasts less than a week."

"Well, you promised me I'd get out!" Alfred's voice was rising, and Gilbert hissed for him to be silenced before any of the bailiffs or Judge Kirkland himself could notice.

"You'll get out, all right. Give me a day or two, and you'll be home free. That's a guarentee. Now shut up."

"… Gil, you got yourself a deal." The American grinned, twirling a pencil in his hand and leaning his chair back on two legs without being noticed by the judge. "I owe you one, man. That is, if we ever see each other again after this…"

"… Depends on if you're ever getting out at all, Jones. And that only happens if I feel like it."

"Ha!" Alfred chuckled slyly. "We'll see about that." He continued to smile as he turned his eyes toward the judge, but after a moment he added, "I'll pay you double if you can hook me up with that judge after this."

"I'm a lawyer, Jones—not a hooker." But at this Gilbert chuckled and shook his head. "Sure, why not."

Blah, so anyways that will be all. I don't think Alfred will be absolved even if I continue… I'll find a way, though, because I love this fiction. All right, please review!