Disclaimer: Just in case it wasn't obvious, I do not own the rights to Boston Legal, or even anything that says "Crane, Poole, and Schmidt on it. Sad, isn't it?

This takes place sometime before the third season opening. Doesn't really matter when. And yes, in my lovely little world of Boston Legal, it is coming up on Christmas.

Alan Shore walked the halls of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt – thinking once again that they were far too bright. The sunlight that poured in through the copious windows, along with the occasional glare from Brad's inhumanely white teeth, severely tempted Alan to wear sunglasses indoors. Rounding the corner to his office, he came quite close to bowling over Shirley Schmidt, one of the senior partners.

He took in her black trousers and maroon shirt, sighing as he looked up at her face. "My, aren't we festive today," he said glibly.

"Alan…" Shirley began, "Dare I ask?"

"What?" Alan queried, looking around. Shirley nodded toward his face. "Oh, this?" he questioned – exuding innocence as he pointed to the flashing red ball on the end of his nose. "Most employees around here seem to be in lacking the Spirit of the Season. I merely thought someone should lead by example."

"Lose the nose Alan. We have a client."

"Wonderful," he replied – leaving the offending proboscis in place. "Perhaps I can persuade them to join my cause." Shirley rolled her eyes and turned, heading for the conference room. Alan followed behind, smiling.

xXx

Alan couldn't help it; he stared at the beautiful woman sitting before him. She was nothing short of voluptuous – a woman that only the ancient Greeks could fully appreciate. Her ample bosom was covered by a disappointingly well-fitting white blouse (he wished it could have been just a little tighter – as it was, he would only give it a five), and navy blazer. A matching blue skirt was smoothed over her hips, and Alan had to stop himself from imagining how she looked as she walked.

"Who's the reindeer?" she asked in a velvet voice, snapping Alan from his reverie. He raised his chin fractionally as Shirley answered her.

"This is Alan Shore," she said by way of introduction, "A capable, if somewhat… eccentric attorney. Alan, this is Michelle Westenburg – until recently the foremost spokesperson for a major fast food chain." Michelle reached out a hand, and Alan shook it warmly before moving around the table to sit across from her. He removed his nose-gear for the moment, but left it blinking next to a waiting legal pad. He might have imagined it, but he thought he saw the woman smile. Shirley took a seat at the end of the massive table, and Alan got down to business.

"So, you were a spokeswoman until very recently. I assume the loss of employment is the reason you're here." Michelle nodded. "What happened?"

She looked at him openly as she told her story. "As part of my contract, I ate a number of items prepared by the company during the filming of the advertisements. The more popular the commercials became, the more I made. And the more money the company made off of me." She didn't seem fazed that Alan didn't recognize her, and he made no move to explain that he avoided television whenever possible. She continued. "After a year and a half of these ads, I began to gain weight. It became more noticeable, and last week – two years into a three-year contract – the company terminated me. They refused to give an official reason, but one of the producers told me in confidence that it was due to my 'changed appearance'." She leaned forward a bit in her chair. "I can't believe how hypocritical they are. It was eating their food during shoots, sometimes thirty takes a day – that made me look like this. I despise fast food, Mr. Shore, and I have a dietitian whose advice I follow to the letter – with only one notable exception."

"He didn't want you to take the job," Alan filled in.

She sat back again. "He didn't want me to take the job," she echoed.

Alan nodded, turning to Shirley. "So we're suing them for…?"

"Breach of contract," Michelle answered. "We'd never get them on the weight gain."

Alan nodded. "You're probably right."

"No one in advertising will hire me now, Mr. Shore. In their eyes I simply can't sell anything."

"Except perhaps Weight Watchers," Alan added. To his surprise, she smiled.

"Their offer came in two days ago, at fully half my usual salary. It was summarily rejected."

Alan smiled back. Perhaps today was going to be a good day after all...

And… cue the theme music!

So, what do you think? This is my first foray into Boston Legal, and I suppose I should let it be known that I hate anything resembling a Mary Sue. I hope Michelle has a bit more substance than that… ;-)