Shark's Smile
The wife killer was waiting for her in her office. He was dressed in a suit sans tie, top button undone. Smarmy smile on his face that felt like fingers trailing up her back. She preferred it when he was serious, wounded. Honest. It was a rare occurrence, but when that happened she almost liked him.
"Mr Sweeney," she forced a smile, not trying to hide its falsehood. "Why are you here?"
"Mrs Florrick," he chided with amused undercurrents, "no 'good morning, how can I help you'?"
She twisted the smile tighter.
"Ah, but I did help you, Mr Sweeney. Much to my distaste."
His grin widened. "I assume that you're referring to my new-found freedom?"
She twitched her folders at him. "That's the one."
He nodded once, slowly, knowingly, his smile faded. "Won't you sit down?" Solicitous, gesturing at her chair.
"No," she replied curtly. Still pasting on the smile. "That would encourage you to stay." He chuckled softly, and her hairs stood on end. The fake smile died. "What do you want Mr Sweeney?"
"You know, Mrs Florrick, I like you." He got to his feet so they stood as equals.
"I wish I could say the same," she retreated into deadpan expression, monotone voice.
He curled the corners of his lips ever so slightly. "Oh, but you do." It was practically a purr. "Against your better judgement, maybe, but you do."
He was being serious now. There was something compelling about him when he was serious. He knew that somehow. He was using it on her. She was feeling a sudden kinship with Eli Gold and his often-snapped expression "I hate being used". He meant manipulated. She felt manipulated.
"You're wrong," she told the killer in no uncertain terms. One break, one crack, and he'd be crawling around inside her head.
"Maybe," he agreed softly, before flashing a flesh-crawling smile, "but I doubt it."
'Clarice and Hannibal' she heard Celeste whisper and felt her insides jerk.
"Mr Sweeney, if you have merely dropped by to exchange pleasantries then you can consider them exchanged. I'm very busy and you need to leave."
She stepped past him and dropped the folders onto her desk. She'd had to get closer to him to do it. It took more of her courage than she'd thought to walk within touching distance of those murderous hands.
"Actually, I want a lawyer."
She lifted her head. He stood, back straight, side on to her, one hand in his pocket.
"I can recommend some," she replied curtly. His smile curled slowly onto his face.
"Oh no, I don't want some. I want you, Mrs Florrick." There was an underlying second meaning that he intended her to hear. She heard it. She didn't react. He loved to see her react.
"Mr Sweeney," she forced the smile back, "My firm represents your company, which we assisted in taking off you. Why would you want us?" She tried her best enquiring tone, as though he were being illogical.
He gave a bark of laughter. She jumped a little, gripped the side of her chair. Released it. She wasn't afraid of him. Not really. Only a little. Sort of. It was too complicated to define what she was. There were too many feelings in too many shades. She held on to what she did know tightly, using the weight to ground her. This man would kill her if he had to. Even if he just wanted to. That sharpened things.
"Oh, you are funny Mrs Florrick. I never said anything about an 'us'. I said 'you'."
She had to ask. She needed to know. It was only encouraging him, but she needed to know.
"Why?" Her confusion bled through. He turned to face her, all serious again. Wholly compelling.
"Because. You care."
She shook her head. A silent no. He raised his eyebrows.
"You mean you didn't care if I got stabbed to death in the prison yard? A bled-out corpse, twisted and broken." The image clearly appealed to him. She felt repulsed, swallowed the word 'stop' that would have sounded like pleading, and clung to a previously generated answer.
"Not wanting you to die like that is a pretty low bar for caring."
His gaze did not waver.
"Not for a wife killer."
She held the gaze, didn't budge, even though her legs begged her to sit.
"I'll need to check with Will and Diane that there won't be any conflicts of interest."
It was the only thing she could say. The only thing that sounded half professional, that would make him leave. He would pursue relentlessly otherwise. He smiled a shark's smile.
"Excellent. I can't imagine there will be a problem."
She could hear Diane's voice in her head. He's a rich client. Likely to have more work for us. We could set up a Chinese Wall…
Sweeney's expression told her he knew it. "I look forward to hearing from you."
He turned to her door and to her relief began to head through it. She had almost relaxed, but he had one parting shot left to throw. "I'll try not to kill anyone else before then." She watched him grin, only half-joking, and then he was gone.
Alicia collapsed in her chair and put her head in her hands, desperately needing a shower to wash off the feeling of his smile on her skin, and to change into clothes that hid her body, but more vitally, she needed a hug. With none of these available she settled for putting a call through to Will.