I was late, as usual. Damn snow. New York wouldn't even salt down it's own damn streets. People were slipping all over the place. I laughed at myself; I was beginning to sound like a bitter 40-year old woman, and I was only 14. Hopefully Vince wasn't even there; hopefully he expected my lack of punctuality. And if he was, hopefully he still found my tardiness and unorginazation cute, not incredibly annoying. If I hadn't have stopped for that coffee, maybe I would be on time, I chided myself. Ah, who was I kidding? I took a big gulf of the Macchiato. I needed the caffeine. Before I could look up from my fix, I felt a body collide against mine, and a hot rush of liquid spilling down my shirt.

"Fuck!" I shouted, garnering several turned heads in my direction.

A mother ushered her young child away, wrinkling her eyebrows in my direction. I shot her a sympathetic look.

"Oh god, I'm really sorry, I was just drinking this and I didn't look up?" I mustered an excuse as the pain in my chest began to subside.

The blonde woman in front of me nodded, and tried to get the coffee stain out of her blouse.

"It's not you fault. I slipped as well. The streets are still icy. Damn it!" she cursed and shook her head.

"Here I thought I was the only one who detested snow. Nice to know I have a partner," I smiled, and her lips formed one as well. "All that bullshit about it being magical. The only magical power that it holds over me is it makes me late."

The woman laughed. "A girl after my own heart."

I joined her in her chuckle.

"Well this blouse is officially done for," she announced, half concealing her disappointment.

"Where are you headed?" I asked her.

"I've got to be in court in 20 minutes," she told me.

I laughed. I should have guessed she was a lawyer. The perfectly tailored suit, expensive black leather purse. And those shoes. God they were certainly lawyer shoes. I laughed again.

"What's so funny?" she asked me, a bit amused.

"I just should have guessed you were a lawyer. I mean the whole wardrobe. The coffee. I'm just disappointed in myself that's all," she rolled her eyes, obviously catching on to my sarcasm. "Unless or course, you're the defendant. Should I even be talking to you?

She smirked. "No, I'm not the defendant, and I'm a prosecutor, not a lawyer."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "What's the difference?"

She took a moment to respond, taking a deep breath. It was so cold, her breath looked like smoke.

"What's the first thing you think of when you hear the word lawyer?"

"Sleazy. Vindictive. Cold. Curr-" I teased, pulling out every insult I could, before she cut me off.

"Very good," her blue eyes twinkled. "But you're thinking of a defense lawyer. The one who lets the criminals off. I put them in jail."

I looked at my watch.

"17 minutes."

"For what," she asked, confused.

"Till you have to be in court. You just spent the last three minutes explaining the non-existent difference between a lawyer and a prosecutor."

"How old are you?" she finally sputtered.

I laughed, and told her I was going to take her somewhere. To get her a new blouse, because she couldn't show up in court looking like she needed to start wearing a bib. She reluctantly agreed, which almost took me by surprise. She didn't look like the kind of woman that stops to talk to 14 year olds in the street; regardless of weather she had just spilled hot coffee on them. To be honest, she didn't look like she did much of anything besides work. Her face was pale- she didn't get out much- and circles were beginning to form under her eyes. She didn't sleep either. She said her name was Alexandra Cabot, Alex for short. I told her Alexandra sounded more like a lawyery name, to which she smiled and allowed her blue eyes to twinkle once again. Vince was going to have to wait- this girl needed a good time.