Work Text:
“Thank you, Mr. Guile. Please allow me a day to consider your request.”
A quick, firm handshake.
“I will get back to you shortly with my decision.”
Never accept a case before you can gather preliminary facts.
“Thankya, Mr. Gavin. I gotta say, I was pretty nervous when m’friend referred me to ya. Ya don’t get a rep like yours fer no reason, but yer a nice fella. Thankya fer listenin’.”
‘Innocent unless proven guilty’ is an irresponsible, foolhardy notion. Presuming innocence without concrete evidence is on par with throwing oneself into a lion’s den.
“It was my pleasure. Do have a nice day.”
Always show the client out. Betray no decision; Leave your answer open-ended.
Gotcha.
Closing the door, Kristoph Gavin waited for a moment before making his way back to the desk. The man’s defense request sat in the middle of his workspace, in a clean if not slightly rumpled white envelope, and Kristoph he moved it off to the side as if bothered by its very presence.
“I hope you understand why we will not be accepting that man’s case,” he said, folding his hands before him, neatly and properly.
With a nod: “He’s guarded—holding back information, maybe? His alibi is solid, but he says himself there aren’t any witnesses to corroborate his whereabouts.”
“And?”
“Evidence is everything in court, sir.”
“Meaning…”
“It’s best for him to file a plea bargain; essentially he has nothing. Litigation starts in two days, and if we accept, right off the bat it’s a lose-lose situation for us.”
Kristoph adjusted his glasses in a prim manner and smiled. “Very good, Justice. I had my reservations about this internship, however you are quite the quick learner. One day you will do me proud.”
Apollo exhaled, relieved to have survived the short but intense inquisition. “Thank you, sir. I hope so.”
At twenty, he was years younger than the other employees of Gavin Law Offices, however Kristoph seemed to trust him more than the others. He was just an intern for now, required to log at least three hundred hours of work under a licensed attorney as per his law curriculum, and although he was still learning the ropes, his boss allowed him a great amount of favor. Apollo dutifully played the part of the paralegal for the time being, assisting in preliminary interviews, taking notes and dictation, helping to gather and sort evidence. He was expected to know his mentor’s lawyering routine inside and out—and Apollo did. He liked to consider himself an integral part of the firm, even without his name on the door or an official, permanent spot in the payroll.
“I won’t accept ‘hope,’ only ‘will.’ Know what you want and strive for it. You will make me proud.”
It was an unaggressive order rather than a prediction, and Apollo gave his mentor a nod.
Being timid will only work against you.
He earned another small, genial smile.
“In that case, you wouldn’t oppose to informing Mr. Guile on my declination of his suit?”
Always cede to the want of your superior, even at the expense of your client. When you are the superior and a task is menial, delegate.
“Not at all, sir.” Apollo took the request Kristoph proffered him and placed it behind the yellow steno pad he held. It was something he didn’t like to do, denying a person the right to representation by his boss or one of the other lawyers in the firm. On the other hand, the office had a stellar reputation for wisely picking and choosing its clientele based on merit.
There were the odd times when Apollo heard whispers about his would-be coworkers about his boss’ supposed thirst for fame and how he had occasionally fought for his own benefit—rumors, of course, and Apollo paid them no heed.
The law is everything. Law is absolute.
A man with such a motto would never stoop so low. Kristoph Gavin was above personal gain.
He had learned a great deal from his short time at the law office, lessons so invaluable that, in Apollo’s opinion, the university ought to have Kristoph Gavin deliver a guest lecture. At the same time he was grateful that even though Kristoph was an attorney of some renown, he didn’t offer his wisdom up to just anyone. There were others in his class who had applied for a position beneath Kristoph, yet he had been the sole recipient of that precious internship.
His boss had chosen wisely; he’d heard girls gossiping with one another about how gorgeous Mr. Gavin was, and how awesome it would be if his super hot younger brother (whom Apollo assumed was in no way associated with law, judging by how they spoke of him) visited the office. If one of those girls had gotten the internship, who knew what sort of gossip Apollo would have to suffer through during the semester. Kristoph had no idea the bullet he’d dodged.
Always keep interpersonal relationships out of the office. We do not put on professional airs; we are professional, here.
Apollo never confessed that he was the one Kristoph had taken on, nor had he admitted to his peers that he had never met the other Gavin. He had, however, met the legendary, erstwhile defense attorney Phoenix Wright, a close friend of his boss and a hot topic in discussions of fraud. When that particular name arose during lecture, Apollo made sure to stay tight-lipped unless called upon.
“Have you any dinner plans tonight, Justice?”
He drew his eyebrows together in question. Kristoph had forgone eye contact, instead organizing and reorganizing the manila envelopes in the IN/OUT basket of his desk. Some things his boss had to have just so—the way case files were ordered by descending work numbers and kept in triplicate (two hard copies, one in its proper filing cabinet in Kristoph’s office, carbons given to Margery, Kristoph’s secretary, and one stored in an electronic database), how correspondence was to be delivered by certified mail only, how teleconferences were to be recorded at all times with a client’s consent—if consent was not forthcoming, the client was at the risk of losing his defense.
How paperclips were to be used to sort papers, and never, never staples.
Our outward appearances are just as crucial to our position as our knowledge. We are to be clean, groomed. Does our work not deserve the same, unmarred presentation? Creases belong on well-ironed slacks, not our papers.
Needless to say, the mistake was never repeated.
“No, sir. My friend and I were going to study for midterms together.”
“Hm. This is the friend in… aeronautics, was it?”
“Astronautics,” Apollo corrected lightly. “He’s also training for the next HAT mission.”
Kristoph appeared somewhat surprised, although his voice didn’t betray it as he spoke. “He sounds like quite the accomplished young man. Good to have friends such as that—reliable, trustworthy.”
“Yeah. Clay’s very goal-oriented… he’s the one who kept encouraging me to become a lawyer.”
Strive for what you want.
“Perhaps I ought to thank him personally for that,” Kristoph said, “otherwise I would be out an apt pupil.”
“I’ll pass on the message, sir.”
Menial tasks.
“I do wish you would accompany me to dinner. I have reservations for two, yet my guest is unable to attend. Pressing obligations.”
No interpersonal relationships.
Or always cede to the want of the superior?
But—never accept without gathering preliminary facts.
”Ah, no matter. Perhaps some other time—to celebrate your official hire. How does that sound, Justice?”
It sounded fantastic, knowing that he was going to have such a chance to work for Kristoph, but he remained impassive. Evidence is everything, and other than Kristoph’s words, Apollo had nothing to go on to signify that he was for sure going to work for Gavin Law Offices other than some idle talk.
“I would like that, sir.”
He would have liked immediate evidence to back up his mentor’s words even more.