"look at you, colluding with the defense. this man is no prosecutor."
"i'll remember this, you prick."
wow, athena thinks, someone's in trouble. she watches simon leave the witness stand to go take a seat somewhere in the gallery. her hand smacks into the bench.
"prosecutor sahdmadhi! it is—"
"ugh!" prosecutor sahdmadhi scoffs. "just let it go. your case is finished. i'm sending you straight to hell, you putrid half-boiled yolk!"
"what the fuck did you just say you little bitch" suddenly simon is back. he's rolling up his sleeves. he's marching towards the prosecutor's bench. he's–
"bailiff!" barks the judge. "please restrain the witness immediately!"
the bailiff manages to pry simon off of the prosecutor, leaving only minimally smudged mascara and bloody earlobes behind. nahyuta huffs, clutching the bench in a way that distinctly reminds athena of simon himself, before seeming to pull himself together. sahdmadhi looks as regal as one can with crooked jewelry and a bleeding lip—which, for this man, is considerably so—before calling for a recess. the court is met with a gavel slam and a half-hour break.
athena makes her way out into the defense lobby. she still knows jack shit about the case, and she's maybe freaking out a little. she decides to spend the time reviewing the files and visiting the defendant in the infirmary. he's still blackout drunk, no surprise there. athena supposes it was worth it to at least check. on her way back to the lobby she spies sahdmadhi being tended. she almost feels sorry for him. almo–fuck it, she actually does feel sorry for him. what the hell was simon thinking? he's not usually like this.
she surmises that this might be an omen of (bad) things to come, and promptly ignores it.