Peter spun his chair around in lazy circles as he stared at the half-eaten Chinese takeout in his hands that had long since gone cold. He paused in mid-turn to gloss over the handful of photos sprawled across his desk; a painful reminder of his case slowly spiraling out of control…much like his chair, he mused, as another forceful spin sent him careening into the bookcase behind him. The prosecutor took this as his cue to stand for the first time in hours. The sleepless city outside his office windows hummed with nightlife. He glanced at his watch and instantly regretted the simple action. Eleven o' clock. Right, then. He might as well just bunk in his office for the night. Wonderful.
Peter acknowledged the soggy noodles in the neglected carton with a sigh. Was he really going to lose this case? He didn't register the soft knock at his door until the brunette entered his office of her own accord. He jumped as the door shut behind her.
"Anna? What are you still doing here?" Peter asked the Assistant State's Attorney. The circles under her eyes mirrored his own. She placed a large pile of files on his desk next to the scattered pictures that Peter had already committed to memory.
"Trying—and failing—to find us a lifeline," Anna replied. Peter chuckled at the cup of coffee crooked under her elbow and gestured at his own takeout.
"Look at us. Dinner of champions."
"Champions win, Peter. I'm not so sure that we'll be able to do that this time."
"Yeah, well, the case isn't over yet." Despite his bravado, Peter felt that sinking feeling return in the pit of his stomach. It was this sense of hopelessness that had rendered him into a useless, spinning mess in the first place. He was suddenly glad for the company as Anna set her coffee cup aside and stretched.
He'd scouted Anna Valdez for his team because she was smart, capable and had a knack for finding the truth. They complimented each other in the courtroom, like a pair of old friends, and that camaraderie continued even through the worst of cases. Peter caught himself scrubbing a hand across his weary face and stifling a yawn.
"Hey, check this out," Anna said, directing her attention to an incoming text message on her phone. Peter swapped the container in his hands for the baseball he kept on his desk and tossed it lazily in the air as Anna swiped through the contents of her mobile device.
"If this is the video about that supposed surveillance footage, I've watched it a hundred times. There's nothing there. No leads. No factual evidence. Nothing that can persuade the jury—" Anna grinned as she held the phone aloft for him to read.
"Or it could just be Laura, Antonio and the others inviting us for a drink at Molly's." Peter's phone went off a beat later bearing the same message from the group text titled—
"#OneChicago? Clever," Peter said, giving the baseball another toss. He spared one last glance at his cluttered workspace before giving in with a sigh. "I don't know about you, but I could really go for a beer right about now."
"You and me both," Anna agreed. "Dinner of champions, right?" Peter laughed.
"You got that right."