Chapter Text
"Just because Paris Geller thinks it's a good idea, that doesn't make it a good idea," Jeff declared. "If anything, I'm prepared to argue the opposite is true. You've met Paris."
"I have," Annie admitted. "But you know, she made good points. I'm pretty sure she's a very good lawyer. And you don't have to be a very good lawyer to know that most law offices have...offices."
They were discussing a notion that had been circling around them for a while: relocation. Paris's statements were merely the latest ammunition for the pro-relocation camp; Jeff and Annie knew all too well that it was extremely easy for Elroy or Jason or April (or one of the thousands of other people in the city) to just walk in on them, while they were in the middle of something. Anything. They might be doing anything. As a legal team they needed privacy to speak to clients.
Jeff held up one hand and rubbed his thumb against his index and middle fingers, the universal gesture for money. "Anywhere else, we're going to have to pay in American dollars, not Uzbek so'um. Our previous landlord gave us extremely favorable terms on the lease."
"So favorable that we could continue to pay rent here until the lease runs out without even noticing it! It's what, a hundred bucks a month? That's nothing. Even after taxes, we're sitting on a nice pile from Gustavo Vort's settlement with April."
Jeff raised an eyebrow.
"We will be sitting on a nice pile this time next month," Annie said, conceding the point. The wheels of bureaucracy turned slowly and the rich did not like writing checks. "I'm not saying we should go out and buy an office building! I'm just saying we should consider all our options." She rose from her desk and stretched. "It would be nice if we could just close and lock a door whenever, right?"
"Technically we could do that now," Jeff said, watching Annie saunter over towards him. He shifted in his seat in a way that would make it easier for her to sit on his knee, if she were of a mind to. They'd just gotten new chairs for the office: Gates chairs all leather and chrome and ergonomic supports. He'd made sure she could sit easily on his knee while he was sitting in his.
"People can see in, if we don't close the blinds," she said, pointing towards the glass window fronting the office as she stepped close and stopped, just short of climbing onto him. "And if we lock the door and close the blinds, we look closed."
"We've gotten walk-in traffic, what, once? Maybe twice? That led to work, I mean."
"What if," Annie interrupted, "what if we got a building with an office on the first floor and an apartment upstairs? And by 'got' I mean buy, with a mortgage. We could swing a solid down payment, cut a very nice deal. Then we would have a whole downstairs: lobby with a reception desk, an office for you, an office for me, a conference room…" She ran her hands through his hair at office for you and again at office for me and bent down at conference room, not quite close enough to kiss. "And a whole upstairs," she continued when he didn't immediately respond. Not verbally, anyway. "With a bed...room…"
"The upstairs is for us?" Jeff grinned. "Or is it where we stash your roommates-slash-dependents? Because you're forgetting—"
He broke off when the office door, which was not in fact locked, flew open and a tall brunette shouldered her way in. She was faintly familiar-looking, fashionably dressed, and holding a hockey stick, for some reason. "April Ludgate!" the woman shouted. "Where is she?"
"Not here!" Jeff snapped.
"Can we help you?" Annie asked, straightening up. The woman wasn't actually all that tall, she just carried herself like someone who took up a lot of space in a room.
"Or Gustavo Vort?" The woman hefted her hockey stick like she was looking to smash something.
"Who are you?" Jeff asked her. He'd risen to his feet and placed himself between the woman and Annie without Annie consciously noticing. Despite the woman being armed only with a hockey stick, it felt like a highly tense situation.
The Winger & Edison landline phone rang. Everybody ignored it.
"Why do you have a hockey stick?" Annie asked.
The woman scowled. "It was going to be a shotgun but there's a stupid mandatory waiting period for some reason and I didn't have time to find a loophole. I'm Robin Scherbatsky," she said like it was supposed to mean something to them.
Annie almost recognized the name. "Robin…?"
The landline stopped ringing. Dang, thought Annie, that might have been a client.
The woman, Robin, fumed at the lack of recognition and brandished her hockey stick. "Robin Sparkles? Robin Daggers! Duchess, I'm Duchess, okay?"
"Duchess!" Jeff said, pointing at her and nodding. "Right. Right!"
"In the flesh!" cried Robin.
Annie's cell, over on her desk, started ringing. "I should get that," she said.
Robin grimaced. "Fine!" she said. "Stupid hosers!"
Jeff's eyes narrowed as Annie snatched up her phone. "Are you actually Canadian, or is this a put-on?"
Caller ID indicated it was Rebecca, of all people, on the phone. "Rebecca's your lawyer, too, right?" Annie called to Robin.
"What?" Robin seemed surprised at the question.
"Rebecca Bunch," Annie clarified. "Right?"
"I guess? Yes," Robin decided. "Yes!"
Annie nodded to herself as she answered the phone. "Hello, Rebecca?"