“Miss Alexandrite.”
Oh Celestia oh no oh no what did I do?
“Come.”
“Yes Ma’am.” I leapt to my hooves and scuttled after Aegis Steel. I couldn’t imagine what I’d done wrong this time. I’d only gotten in a few minutes ago. Aegis was notoriously hard-nosed, though, so as far as I was aware I’d used the wrong side of the double door when entering the offices. She was dead silent as we walked down the hallway. That was another of her habits. It was like the mare was built to make everypony around her uncomfortable. Even the carpeted floor didn’t make any noise as our hooves hit. I shuddered.
After two right turns, we stopped in front of a door and Aegis pushed it open. I peeked inside when she nodded me in; There was an older mare shifting in her seat, a short gray mane combed meticulously back, her chin set with a resolute purpose. She was dressed in an embroidered, decorated, elegant dress with a collar so high I was reminded of Featherbrain informing me that he was in a bad mood. However, her affluence wasn’t given away by her mane or clothes or the earrings or necklace which sparkled with gemstones. The first thing I noticed was her attitude.
She was scrunching her nose at the sparse furniture: three chairs around a round table, a quartet of potted plants in the corners, tastefully subtle white walls, rich brown carpet layering the floor. Her chin was held up as if in mild, respectful contempt of it all. She made it clear just how common everything around her was. Me? I saw walls with no stains; soft, comfortable carpeting; perfect color balance and a table and chair set worth more than every piece of furniture I owned put together and sturdy enough to weather a hurricane.
A prickling on the back of my neck informed me that Aegis had been holding the door for far too long, so I stepped inside and took the chair across from the mare. I was prepared for the speculative inspection I was given. It was almost always the same. Usually disdain for my apparent age, from the older ponies, but always an intense, personal appraisal of my translucence. It was, is, and always will be an incredibly embarassing experience. Fortunately, I was too distracted to notice; I was now fully aware of what was happening.
“This is Ms. Yvette Banks,” Aegis said, sliding one of the other chairs closer to my side of the table and seating herself. “She’s the head teller at the Manehattan Central Bank, and has worked there in that capacity for nearly 30 years.” She looked up from the piece of paper she held and met eyes with Yvette. “This is Alexandrite, a young attorney who will be…” She paused for a mere moment to look at me, “reviewing your case with me.”
I shuddered. I’d been right, this was a client, and when we left the room Aegis would ask me to defend her. I’d been through this song and dance several dozen times, but my track record could be derived from Aegis’s reticence to say I’d be the one defending the client. It never ended well. Never.
On that note, a bank employee? My nervousness grew. Had there been a bank robbery that hadn’t hit the rumor mill yet? Was I really getting a case as high profile that? I was nervous enough dealing with a hayburger theft that had gotten out of hand, how was I going to deal with something so...storybook absurd?
“Hello,” I said without really meaning to. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Banks.”
“Likewise,” she lied.
Aegis was not one to overlook the atmosphere in a room, but she also seemed to enjoy making me sweat so she allowed an uncomfortable pause to pass before continuing. “Ms. Banks. Could you give us the details on the situation?”
“Of course I will,” Banks said, sounding the ‘C’ so hard it caused the plants’ leaves to shudder. “It’s absolutely preposterous, I tell you. Where that Pitt got the nerve to accuse me of anything at all is beyond me!”
I turned my head just enough to catch the corner of Aegis’s eye. While the two of us never really seemed to get along, there are some things all attorneys can understand and sympathize over. For some reason, probably 70% of the time you ask a pony for details concerning something of vital importance, they will start talking for an unreasonable amount of time without providing more than a diverse scattering of new information, none of it with any sort of context.
“I’m sorry, who is this Pitt?” I, being an idiot, made the first mistake and asked an open-ended question.
“He is an uncouth, filthy, low-down, disrespectful snake of a pony!”
As an attorney, I would like to clarify that while most of this account is factually accurate I did change some details, such as the exact wording of that previous sentence. Partly, this was for brevity, as Yvette Banks could have filled a book with her disdain for Mr. Tarr Pitt, which I later learned was the complainant’s full name. Mostly, however, I like to think that my accounts may someday be read by fillies and foals wishing to know what an attorney goes through in their daily life. That being said, I would much rather not receive angry letters from parents whose children learned a wide variety of colorful language from, at my best count, fifteen different decades of caustic linguistic evolution.
When her tirade came to a stuttered stop—She had begun repeating insults and was straining to think of more—Aegis and I shared a glance. That temper would be an issue in the courtroom. For now, though, we needed more facts. After a few moments of staring, it became clear that I was going to have to be the one to ask.
“What exactly is Mr. Pitt accusing you of?”
“A load of malarkey!” Again, filtered.
Aegis cut in when she paused for a breath. “The listed crimes are trespassing, vandalism, and destruction of property.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Vandalism and Destruction? Both?” The crimes were similar. If you ask anypony on the street, they probably couldn’t tell you the difference. In my experience, ponies used Vandalism when the property damage seemed to be the primary purpose of the crime and Destruction of Property as an addition to other crimes, such as theft or assault.
“The Destruction of Property charge refers to four broken windows,” Aegis said, looking over a piece of paper to make sure she had everything correct. “The vandalism charge handles the graffiti separately.”
I tapped my hoof on the table in thought. I looked over at old Banks, took in her aged frame, noted the frown lines and crow’s feet, then turned my attention back to Aegis. “I’m...sorry, ma’am, I think I misheard you.”
“You did not.” Aegis didn’t even look at me. She snapped the paper in her hooves, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “Ms. Banks is being charged for painting a large graffiti mural on the outer wall of Mr. Pitt’s company headquarters without permission.”
“How large are we talking?” I asked, imagining a three foot square dissertation written in sweeping, but tight, calligraphy. Aegis glared at my admittedly casual tone, but she held up a picture. Pitt’s Roofing was a two story workhouse and office smooshed into a single building. While small by Manehattan standards, the fact that it stood in its own lot and separated from the neighboring structures made it look huge and a little imposing.
And save for a few dark rectangles, presumably where the windows had been, every square inch of the face of the building was covered in bright, loud, contrasting, twisting, angling, unbelievably perfect paint. My jaw dropped. I stared at Banks for another moment to make sure that we were talking about the same severe, uptight old mare. “And he’s accusing Ms. Banks?”
“Yes,” our client took thirty seconds and seventy words to say.
“You’re kidding.” I looked at Aegis, desperately seeking some measure of sanity.
“Pitt claims that this was done overnight, and he says he has photographic evidence of Ms. Banks leaving the scene.” Aegis replied, “He won’t release the picture until we’re in court. What does that say to you, Miss Alexandrite?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “It says to me that he doesn’t want to give us a long time to examine the picture. There might be something wrong with it.” Aegis nodded and I continued. “Where were you on the night in question, Ms. Banks?”
“I left work at 7 o’clock and walked back to my apartment. The girls and I played Cribbage, and then I went to bed.” Banks raised her chin another inch and I tried to guess what sort of poker face she might have. As a disclaimer, I have no idea how to play cribbage.
“Can anyone testify that you were at home all night?” I asked. Banks took a few moments to respond.
“Yes, our apartment building has a security guard who works in the lobby. He saw me come in, and he would have seen me leave.”
I nodded and looked at the picture again. Honestly, had it been somewhere else the graffiti might have been beautiful. Then again, if the design was meant to be words I certainly couldn’t read it. After a few more moments of examining it, I tilted my head. “That’s odd.”
“Hm?” Aegis looked up from another piece of paper.
“The windows look like they were broken after the painting was done. Look,” I pointed at one of the missing windows on a lower floor. “This line goes into the window, then comes out over here. So whoever did this probably painted over the windows, and then broke them?” I frowned. “Why would they do that?”
Aegis turned back to her paper. “This was probably done by a disgruntled ex-employee or a client who received subpar service somehow.”
My unease grew at that. “Even so, it doesn’t make sense to paint over the windows and then break them…” Aegis looked up at me and raised her eyebrows, “Artistically, I mean,” I said, slowly losing confidence. “They’d be...destroying part of their own work.” A silence swept through the room and I decided to switch topics before it got too oppressive. “What’s your relationship to this Mr. Pitt, Ms. Banks?”
“A few weeks back that lout was trying to chat up my girls while they were working,” Banks said, her expression darkening.
“By your girls, you mean the tellers at the bank?”
“Well, the girls, yes. We normally just ignore it, but he had propositioned two of the tellers and was about to approach a third. He was holding up the line for this, and so I went out and told him that he could conclude his business and get out, or I’d haul him out by his tail. From there he contacted my supervisor, and though nothing became of it he repeated the entire ordeal several times over the last few weeks.” She muttered, likely something unpleasant, under her breath.
“So you had a contentious relationship, then.”
“We still do. He came in just a few days ago.”
“I see...The prosecution will be using that as a motive, I suppose. Have you bought any spray paint lately?”
Banks visibly lost a bit of her composure. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally responded “No,” in exactly that many words.
I turned my eyes up to her. She was staring at a corner of the ceiling. “Ms. Banks,” I said, putting on my best, most matter-of-fact lawyer voice, “Our firm, we, will be defending you in court. There will be a prosecutor, and they will be doing their research and digging up every detail they can find which might link you to this crime. If you bought spray paint at any time for any reason, they will likely find out about it. It would be advantageous if we knew in advance whether you did, and if so what you used it for.” More silence. “Please, we are on your side, Ms. Banks.”
Something of the severe superviser stole back over her face and she scowled at me. “It was for a bake sale. One of my girls asked for my help. Her daughter is a filly scout, and we banded together to help her troop set up the sale.” She huffed in aggravation. “I made the sign.”
“Well,” I said, “This all seems clear enough. There’s no way you could have committed the crime, and it should be easy enough to show that in court.” The sudden thought of standing in the courtroom flowed into my mind. My body tensed against my will, and I felt a sudden, sharp, twisting pain in my spine. I managed to hide it rather well.
“I think that’s all we need from you for now, Ms. Banks,” Aegis cut in before I could say anything else, which was good because I don’t think I could have opened my mouth without squeaking with discomfort. “Miss Alexandrite?” She stood and headed for the door, and I followed. A short way down the hall she stopped and looked at me. “Well?”
“The fact that the windows were broken still bothers me. I’d be curious to see the broken glass. I wonder if those aren’t two separate crimes.”
“So will you be taking the case?”
I stared at Aegis and something akin to excitement grew in my chest. I could do this. The charge was ridiculous, the evidence probably spotty, the circumstances questionable, and the claimant unpalatable. I could do this. I could definitely do this. I opened my mouth to reply in the affirmative, but the memory of that ache in my back stopped my words. I pictured myself standing there in court, defending the old lady, and my throat caught. Aegis narrowed her eyes at me as I glanced nervously back towards the room where Ms. Banks sat.
“I…”
Say it. Say it! You can do it! It’s an old mare being charged with graffiti for Celestia’s sake just say it!
“I don’t…”
SAY IT!!!!
I felt the pinch in my back again. My eyes misted over. My words battled with spiraling, wild emotions that made me dizzy. I heard myself let out a squeak and saw Aegis droop just a little bit.
“Why don’t you take an early lunch break, Miss Alexandrite?”
I hesitated for a moment, trying to speak. Then I turned and ran.
“Hey Lex—Woah! ...What’s her deal?” Buckler Round walked up to Aegis, who was shaking her head.
“She was offered another case. Banks.”
“Aah,” Buckler said, some of the levity disappearing from his manner. “So, you’ll be taking it then?”
“Escutcheon said that he would handle it.”
Bucklers ears perked and he squinted. “E’s taking it? Again?”
Aegis nodded, staring down the hallway in the direction that the young attorney had run. “He insists that she only be offered cases out of his stock. He…He really thinks she can be his successor.”
Buckler followed Aegis’s gaze, then looked towards the room Banks was in. He whistled low. “You think he’s right?” Aegis rolled her eyes and turned away.
“Come on, I’m serious Aegi...s.” He managed to avoid using his pet name for her. “You think she’s got the chops to be a good attorney?”
“I wonder,” Aegis said without looking back. “I wonder very much.”
The next day, I somehow managed to drag myself into work. I headed straight for the storage cabinet Aegis had had me organizing the day before, but the mare herself emerged from the very room. She didn’t seem surprised to see me.
“Ms. Banks was found not guilty.”
I winced. The trial would have taken place the day before, probably an hour or so after I left the building.
“I mentioned what you said about the windows to Escutcheon.”
It’s hard to wince when you’re already wincing, but I somehow managed it.
“It turned out that Tarr Pitt had broken them himself, and is being brought up on charges of fraud. Further investigation into his company uncovered a plethora of other wrongdoings. With that and Ms. Banks’s alibi, the verdict came in short order.” In writing this, I realize it may sound as if Aegis were complimenting me. Her tone allowed for no such illusions. It was blunt. Informative.
I forced a look up at her. She was staring at the far end of the hall, away from me. I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out, so I closed it again. Aegis let me stew, like she so loved to do. I stood there, unable to run away, unable to speak, only able to listen. But there was nothing to listen to but the soft sounds of movement elsewhere in the building. The scuffle of chairs, the growl of filing cabinets, the clunks and clicks of doors.
“Miss Alexandrite, I believe you have work to do. Perhaps someday you will drag yourself out of this closet and do what you need to do.” She spared me a look. “That’s what Escutcheon told me to tell you.” She walked down the hall, leaving me to sit in my own misery and self-loathing. After a few minutes I pulled open the door and stepped inside.
A piece of paper sat, tri-folded, on the middle shelf. It suddenly occurred to me that while Aegis had come out of the storage closet, she hadn’t left carrying anything. I threw a hesitant glance back at the door to make sure it was closed and approached the paper. As I unfolded it, I saw that it was a letter, written in a cramped but flowing script.
Mr. Escutcheon Herald and Ms. Aegis Steel,
I would like to formally thank you each for your excellent and expert help regarding my disagreement with Mr. Tarr Pitt. You performed admirably by not only exonerating me, but also by using his own evidence to expose his true character. Such efficacious work is what I always hope to see, but never what I expect. My pleasant surprise is matched only by my gratitude towards you. I will seek your aid should I ever need your services again, and I will be sure to direct anypony else who may need your kind of assistance in your direction.
I sighed and nearly put the letter back on the shelf. Aegis must have left it there by mistake. Then the beginning of the next paragraph, or rather my name at the top of it, caught my eye.
Ms. Alexandrite,
I would like to apologize for my curtness in answering some of your questions. At the time, I found them indignant and uncouth. Now I see that I had erroneously jumped to a conclusion. The matter of the spray paint I purchased did come up in court, and while I was surprised such a trivial thing could matter, I quickly saw your wisdom in predicting your opponent’s maneuvers. However, I notice that you were not present in court. I have ascertained that you are hesitant to stand on your own in the courtroom, and for your help I would offer you some advice. In any line of work, though mine especially, one must always take opportunities to make our mark when they are presented. There will always be danger in any decision or action, but that mustn’t stop us from deciding and acting. When our success and the greater good is on the line, simply reaching may force us to realize that the terrifying heights we imagine are much closer than we thought. Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Alexandrite, and good luck.
Cordially yours,
-Y. Banks
I swallowed a bitter taste in my mouth. Ms. Banks might have been trying to be helpful, but something about the message turned my stomach. I suddenly questioned what I was doing in this profession at all. I crinkled my nose and shook my head, folding the letter and placing it back where I’d found it. What was it all for? Personal advancement? The “Greater Good”? And anyway, I reasoned, what in Equestria was she talking about with danger and terrifying heights? Apparently I knew even less about the bank teller profession than I’d originally thought.
With all these thoughts pinging around in my brain and a now-familiar cramp pinching my spine I picked up a bottle of window cleaner, gave the contents an exploratory sniff, and found that it was in fact filled with bleach. I grabbed a new sticker, slapped it over the old one, and put the bottle in its proper place.
I suppose I could only try to figure things out one tiny, tiny step at a time.