Chapter Text
It was a bitingly cold evening in February, the rain was splattering hard against the window pain, and Courtney had stayed late at work... again.
Despite her graduating law school 2 years early, despite her cit training and perfect GPA, she still found it preposterous that she was expected to complete this 'community work'. Sure, it gave her experience, but she'd got into the business for two reasons: money and winning arguments. And although she was winning arguments, this volunteer work (although she really didnt have a choice) was not making any cash. As a 21 year-old fresh out of college, she needed money fast, and unfortunately, this crummy community attorney programme was the only way she could gain enough experience for a high-paying job.
She sighed. It was 10pm already and the office was completely empty, her only companion her fluorescent-lit reflection. Studying the face that looked back at her from her blank laptop screen, she winced. Had she always looked this peaky, or were the late nights taking their toll?
With a scowl at the stack of tattered folders on her desk, she elegantly arose from the squeaking office chair and swept the pile of documents into her leather rucksack. Fuck this, she had leftover takeout and an entire season of the Boys waiting for her at home. Not to mention a comfortable seat. With a final glance at the mess of papers on her desk, she swiftly switched off the light and flounced out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
The drive home was a cautious one. It took her six tries to pass her test, and even now, on nights like these where the roads were slick with rain, she still liked to be careful. Her day shift at the cafe paid for gas, but the car itself was ancient, the upholstery peeling and faded and the left rear light shattered. God, shed graduated top of her class yet was still driving a vehicle produced in 2008. What. A. Joke.
After a couple tries parking, she finally stumbled through the door of her ground-floor apartment. Toronto wasn't cheap, so at least she was semi-pleased she could afford this on her meagre wage. The electricity cut out and the smoke alarm didn't work, but it was clean and fairly spacious. She kicked off her shoes, strappy platform sandals unfit for the weather, and made a beeline for the refrigerator. A half-eaten tub of pad Thai lay lacklustre on the top shelf. She reached for it gratefully, sticking it in the microwave for a few rotations whilst she hunted for a fork, and eventually collapsed into the sofa with an exhale of breath.
Losing herself in the blood, action and violence of the TV screen was the highlight of her day. Here, in the warm, a bowl of noodles in her hands and the TV bathing her in a soft glow, she felt content. She felt... almost happy.
With a jolt, she started awake at - wait, what, 3am?! She must've fallen asleep on the couch again, it was a habit she'd sworn off a while ago. At least the TV had shut down, that would at least save her a few dollars on her energy bill. The sofa was quite comfy, really. The only disadvantage was that she now has takeout smeared over her cheek and the cushions. But she could clean that another day. This night - or morning - was hers. It was Courtney's day. So with a stretch she reclined back into the cushions, pulled her oversized hoodie tighter around her, and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Courtney could have sworn she'd only been dozing for a mere hour when her phone buzzed vigorously. It was - urgh, she was late for work. Her one free shift at the cafe she had to spend at the lawyer's office, due to 'scheduling constraints'. Scheduling constraints my ass, she knew that nobody else wanted to haul themselves out of bed to go file charity lawsuits at 7am on a Saturday. She rather begrudgingly pulled on a fresh shirt and dragged a comb through her shoulder-length hair. She'd only be there for a couple of hours, she told herself. She could shower later. It was irritating sure, but justice slept for no woman. Also, she was pretty sure she needed just one more case before she could finally quit, and move to one of the glamorous american firms. So, it didn't matter much. She was getting out soon.
The file was already on her desk when she arrived. Hmm, someone must have been in even earlier than her. She flicked through pensively, absorbing the information like a sponge. 20 year-old Canadian male. Historic juvie charges. Class-B drug trafficking. Desperately pleading non-guilty, it seemed like, despite the likely profile. She'd give it a go but, to be honest, she could see him being flung into a cell for a few years. Might do him good, she didn't know.
Her nails, painted a glossy ivory, clacked lightly against the keys as she typed an email. "Yes Rob, I will take the case" she typed, "And after that I'm done. Remember, I can't guarantee anything. To be honest, he seems like a lost cause."
Rather aggressively, she firmly clicked send, then immediately switched off her laptop and tucked it neatly under her arm. Now, she was going to enjoy her Saturday. She would *not* think about work, she would *not* think about the case and, most importantly, she would *not* think about the rapidly approaching anniversary of the 1st Total Drama episode.