The Jolly Roger would have been considered a dive bar by most, but its close proximity to the courthouse made it the perfect stomping grounds for the well-dressed sharks and miserable wretches that craved an escape from the subtle cruelties of Lady Justice. Friday nights were especially crowded and tonight was no exception, every seat filled and the bartenders struggling to keep up with the customers crowding the bar.

"All right, boys - down the hatch!" Jefferson called out gleefully as he surfaced near their table, a collection of shot glasses clutched in his hands. This was not their first, second, or even third round of shots, and his hands lacked their usual grace as he slide the glasses across the table to their recipients, dark liquid sloshing over the edge.

"Christ," groaned Robin as he lifted the shot glass towards his face, squinting blearily at its contents. "What is it?"

"A new invention!" Jefferson answered with a wild grin.

"You're a madman," Robin announced before gamely knocking back the shot, shuddering from the force of the alcohol's burn.

But he didn't drop dead instantly, so the others quickly followed suit - except for one.

"Jones!" Jefferson scolded, slapping a heavy hand on the man's back to rouse him from his thoughts. "What're y'doin?"

"Hm?" Killian hummed, dragging his gaze from the floor to take in Jefferson glittering eyes and arched brow. "Nothing, mate, just thinking." His shoulders rolled in an idle shrug as he snaked a hand out to draw the shot glass closer.

"Thinking? There's no ... thinking in here," Jefferson slurred while waving an expressive hand about them. "Only drinking! We're celebrating, right Captain?"

The nickname's origin was something none of them could remember - but it was fitting, given Killian's flair for the dramatic and tendency to face each potential lawsuit his clients faced as a cry for war. It had been no different today - taking down the widow who dared to claim their client's medication caused her husband's death with a simple flash of a Facebook photo showing the man sipping on a glass of champagne at his daughter's wedding.

But now all Killian can remember is the paleness of the woman's face - the twist of her hands as she clenched them together. There's a sinking feeling in his gut, and it's avoidance, more than anything, that causes him to quickly knock back the shot before chasing it with a long pull of his beer.

"Alright lads, I've got the next round," he promises, raising a hand to signal for a waitress.

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They stumble towards the car, Jefferson leaning heavily against Killian, mumbling the lyrics to some unknown song.

"C'mon, you git," Killian nudges him towards the passenger side while fishing the keys out of his pocket. It takes more effort than expected to fold himself into the driver's seat and insert the key into the ignition, but they eventually figure it out and head out of the lot.

"Y'want some tea?" Jefferson teases while waving his flask towards Killian's face - the unexpected movement causing the car to swerve dangerously as Killian waves it away.

The blare of sirens should have been expected, but it catches them by surprise nonetheless.

Squinting from the glare of the flashlight, he peers up in the general direction of the police officer and schools his features into a charming expression. "Problem, officer?" He asks - but the innocence of the act is ruined by Jefferson's drunken cackle.

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Hours later, he emerges from the police station and is pleasantly surprised to find Milah waiting for him on the sidewalk. Taking in her narrowed eyes and the tension in her posture, he forces the corners of his mouth to lift into a wide grin as he saunters towards her - he knows his carefree display will only stokes the flames of her ire, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he calls out in greeting once he is in earshot, raising a hand to scratch behind his ear as he scrunches his features into a thoughtful expression. "Although, I have to warn you, love, if you had left me in there any longer, I might have replaced you with a rather interesting character named Bubba." Waggling his brows, he comes to a halt in front of her. He appraises her for a moment before jerking his chin towards the cab waiting behind her. "Shall we go, love?"

She huffs a sound that borders on laughter, but has too much grit, too much something else, to be considered a pleasant sound before slapping a folder against his chest with enough force that it momentarily knocks the wind from his sails and he rocks back with a surprised grunt while lifting a hand instinctively to hold the folder in place.

"I want a divorce," she sneers before disappearing into the cab.

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It's surprising simple to end a marriage - a few signatures, a few guarded conversations across a conference table to decide who gets what, and it's done.

It's over.

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A month later, Robin advises him that the DA will agree to allow Killian to complete community service as a diversionary program to avoid the DUI charge. He'll have to take a leave of absence from the firm - but it might not be a bad thing, his friend explains.

"You like hockey, right?" Robin asks with a devious smile.

"I played when I was younger," Killian agrees, tilting his head slightly as he takes in Robin's smile. "Why?"

"Just making sure," Robin says while shifting to toss a hat onto Killian's desk. "Have fun, Coach."

[Author's note - the inspiration for this came after watching the Mighty Ducks. Our heroine will appear in the next chapter.]