snell law firm, jimmy batts office, early morning, following the don announcement with @thcshyster
It happened in a whirlwind, the month passing in a haze; it was a brutal one, full of fights, grief, and misunderstandings. It had felt towards the end that there weren't going to be any winners. As expected, they lost territory, he lost friends, a father, and half of his fucking mind. He had never in his entire existence been so unsure of the future as he were the entirely of January, the new year rung in with something akin to endless devastation.
Then the silver lining, the ending he fought for tooth and nail; he was named don. It hit with a feeling of success only drowned out by the renewed stress, this wasn't the end of the struggle but merely the beginning, now he had to prove they made the right choice, had to push harder than he ever had in his life. Everything up until now was the easy part, that he could admit.
The steep slope of an uphill battle laid in front of him. So he starts the only place you can, the beginning.
The first order of business was clear -- he needed an advisor, and not just anyone would do. The answer wasn't hard to find, but he wondered if it would difficult to pull off. Jimmy Batts hadn't been directly involved in the hierarchy for a decade give or take, had distanced himself, even if only slightly, as the years wore him down. He knew part of the reason he left, something like retirement, but was never privy the full details, too young at the time to pry or be given answers.
He did it the right way, he made an appointment, was sure it rung some bells in the older man's mind after hearing the news of all that's happened recently. Good, he wanted him to start thinking about this, wanted him to have an answer before he even walked into the door. The other candidates aren't promising, Francisco's always had trouble taking advice, rarely has the respect for another person to trust their word, but Jimmy was different.
Jimmy half raised him, was the uncle he had never had since he'd landed in the United States, the way he spoke, the way he dressed; a lot of it was directly influenced by him. He was incredibly intelligent, knew how to handle the numbers in the family, the statistics, things that Franco was sure he would be able to grasp easily with time, but he needed a solid guiding hand.
He's called into the office, sharp, pressed suit, freshly shined loafers -- he looks the part, of that much he's sure. Carefully blank expression until he enters the room, unable to fully quell the crack of a smile. He hadn't seen him in too long, and he was one of the few that truly felt like family. He extends a hand, over the desk, familiar, lacking his usual cold exterior. It feels like relief, just being in the room with him, aware at how much he needs this to play well. "Jimmy, it's good to see you, it's been too long."