with Selim Aydin @knightsmc
If someone were to be poetic in their description of Luisa they might have described her as a force of nature - powerful, unchangeable, and at times merciless. Those that were less charitable might reference her stubbornness or bluntness, painting a more negative picture. She'd even heard herself referred to as a raging bitch before - a badge she still wore with honour and amusement rather than shame. There was nothing to be embarrassed about standing up for herself and those she cared about, in her mind it was cowardly to do anything but, and so if she ruffled a few feathers in the process it was a trade off she was happy to make. It had been made clear to her too many times that if she didn't fight that fight no one else would. Too many too happy to turn the other way and deem it none of their business. Luisa had never been able to view life so clinically, any trouble of her friends or family immediately becoming her own. Meddling as she might be, she tended to get results.
This time her crusade felt all the more important, fighting for someone's memory and the justice that they had been robbed of. The case had consumed her, all but crashing out when the case had been thrown out on a technicality and she'd had to watch the smug smirk of her roommate's ex-boyfriend as he'd been acquitted. Image burned into her mind it haunted her enough that she hadn't had a good night since, determination calcifying until it was the most unwavering it had ever been. Even filled with anger she knew that she was out of her depth - organising a protest or a fundraiser was easy enough but tackling a court case would take someone with real experience. So she'd done her research and ended up outside a particular firm. An appointment had seemed an elusive thing and there was a part of her that didn't want her name on record until she decided whether or not she trusted this lawyer. After all, she was levelling the accusation of corruption at a lot of people, she wouldn't be surprised if her case got turned down.
Figuring that her usual way of strong-arming someone into something by either badgering them enough that they'd do anything to shut her up or guilting them or calling in a favour, she knew she had no choice but to try charm. She waited until her mark left the building, slowly sauntering over as he approached his vehicle. Low appreciative whistle left her lips, prepared to play the femme fatale if it got him off-guard enough. "That's a nice set of wheels." Most men she knew were proud of their car or bike, that was bound to win him over, right? As she moved around the car gaze was drawn to the flat tire, privately wishing that she'd thought of that to keep him there long. "Ooh, unlucky." For him at least. But now she was thinking that maybe luck was on her side. "I can give you a hand to change it if you want? Wouldn't want your suit to get all messed up." Words were light, playful and her gaze flirtatious as she allowed it to drift over his shoulders and torso.
Selim was an organized man, some may even use the term ‘anal’ (which he despised). He liked things exactly how he thought they should be, and could always feel frustration flare when they weren’t. The real problem was when that frustration flared around things he couldn’t control. For example, walking into his partner’s office to see case briefs thrown around, splayed open on surfaces, and seemingly ignored. It would be insane to insist that the man organize them simply because Selim felt his head was going to explode every time he walked into his office…And yet, it’s all he wanted to do. But instead, he seethed, raged internally, and took it out at the boxing gym, which is exactly where he intended to go as soon as he escaped the building, before he’d eventually have to go and pick Yasemin up from daycare.
But first, he had to take care of his own growing (but organized) pile of briefs. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he just had to remember what the pile looked like when he was still with the ADA. Cue sigh of relief. He quickly notated some, stuck reminders to follow up on others, and passed off a few small-time cases off to some of the non-partners. His time was limited as a partner, and he wondered why some of these cases were still ending up on his desk. But that’d be a stern discussion for another time, when he wasn’t already running late.
Suit jacket and briefcase were grabbed in a whirl of movement before he was out the door, eyes trained on phone, answering emails in the two minutes it took from leaving the office to get to his car parked out front. Elevator, hallway, front door. Tap, tap, tap. Bright day, sunglasses on, — A voice? Nice set of wheels.
He looked between his Audi Q7 and the peanut gallery, a woman perhaps a few years younger than him (or perhaps that’s just how he felt these days) with a raised brow. He had gone to the Audi dealership and asked for the safest car. That was about the extent of his knowledge and or interest in it. He was going to give a simple nod of thanks before getting in and speeding off, until her second bit of narration. His eyes followed hers and he cursed in some sort of frankensteined English-Turkish language that was prevalent among his family and something he especially felt the need for currently, as no one language would be able to convey his rising temper and growing frustrations.
He took a step closer, and he was able to see the very distinct rip in the tire, just about the width of a hunting knife. Another curse, a bigger sigh. Perks of the job. He snorted at her last bits of commentary whilst he removed his suit jacket and eyed her perilously high heels, answering her without saying a word, as he began to grab the needed tools from his trunk.
“You didn’t happen to see who did this while you were loitering about, did you?”










