It's eight AM and Scotty is not awake. He's standing in front of his friend's coffee maker, looking at it as the brown drops are falling down into the pot. He's back is aching from sleeping on the couch his Miranda had offered him. Well, it was better than his Ranchero, and that was all he needed to know. The dark brown drops that will wake him up are dripping slower and slower.
He takes the put and starts to pour it into a brown mug decorated with yellow glitter. Miranda has probably done it herself. "What's up with these lesbians and their pottery?" he asks out loud, sure that Miranda left for work already.
He sits down by the kitchen table, lifts the mug to his mouth, smelling the divine coffee and just when the liquid is going to touch his lips, his phone rings. Scotty sighs heavily, puts down the cut and goes to the living room to locate the phone.
The display reads "Kevin" and right there it hits Scotty why he's up at this god-forsaken hour. His trial is today and he's going to meet Kevin in an hour to "prep", whatever that means.
"Hi Kev." Scotty's voice is scratchy and dry. He clears his throat. "What's up?" Still scratchy.
"Wow, you sound perky." Kevin is clearly wide-awake, probably already at work.
"It's early, I slept three hours and I haven't had coffee. Are you sure you want to mess with me?"
Kevin chuckles lightly. "I've forgotten you're not a morning person."
"Why are you calling, Kev?" Scotty is back in the kitchen, finally enjoying the coffee.
"I'm just letting you know that I'm ready for court, all's good… and to make a small request."
"Mhm?" Scotty answers while gulping.
"Can you wear something… pink?"
Scotty puts down the mug too fast, making it splash on the rainbow patterned table cloth.
"Pink? I thought it was court, not a fetish club."
"Humor me, Scotty. It's for a good cause."
Due to the early hour and the lack of caffeine rush in Scotty's body, he didn't protest anymore. He mumbled something affirmative.
"Okay, so see you in… forty-three minutes." Kevin sounded cheerful, which probably was a good sign.
"Yeah. Sure. Forty-three." Scotty replies.
"And Scotty… it wouldn't hurt if you jerk your wrist a bit when we enter the court. See you."
There was a click and then it was too late to object. Scotty looked at the phone, as if he was expecting it to answer his unspoken question.
Scotty finished the last coffee, frowned a bit because of the bitterness, and went to find his pink shirt and that narrow tie he'd only used like once. He didn't get why Kevin suddenly wanted him in pastel, but he was ready to oblige. After all Kevin had done for him.