"Welcome to Morbucks Coffee, what can I get you today?"

"Medium coffee."

"Which roast would you like, sir?"

Dexter finished yawning before answering, "The strongest you've got."

The bright-eyed, smiling cashier rang his order up, shouted the order to the employees behind her, and then handed him a copy of his receipt, telling him his number was located at the bottom of the paper. In the same breath she greeted the customer behind him. There was no doubt the employees of the establishment were "testing" their product.

He stood to the side of the counter and watched as the cashier took the next orders by repeating the same series of movements: take the order, shout the order, and hand the receipt to the customer. But the woman currently at the front of the line was a slightly different case. She was a too-busy-to-put-the-phone-down kind of customer. Dexter had seen her here a few times before, though never without her phone attached to her ear. He wondered what kind of job she had that kept her busy so early in the morning. She wore a three-quarter sleeve tunic, denim mini-skirt, and tall boots. It didn't exactly match high-executive office attire.

"That hardly qualifies as an interesting case," she told the listener on the phone.

He thought it was a bit too soon for the college students to roll out of bed and come in for their orders; it was only a quarter to seven. He had a difficult time trying to place an age on her. Her clothes and mid-waist length hair pushed behind a headband gave her a youthful appearance, but the shine and volume of her strawberry blonde hair revealed she was old enough to have an income that could be applied to frivolous expenses, such as visits to a hair salon.

"But he's just suing the guy. It doesn't get any more straightforward than that."

Dexter turned his head to look out the glass wall of the shop as she approached the waiting area. He mentally cursed himself, deeming this action no better than a school boy with a crush. He knew better than to act this way, he told himself. After all, in two years, he'd be thirty. If he thought a woman was attractive, he should be able to let her know without getting nervous or embarrassed about it. Right?

"Orders 22 and 24!" an employee said as he placed the to-go cups on the counter in front of them. The employee immediately went back to work on the other orders.

Examining the cups in detail, Dexter realized the employee hadn't marked either of them with a number. He made to tell the woman on the phone, but before he opened his mouth she'd already grabbed the cup directly in front of her, and went on her way. Dexter looked again for any sign on the cup as to which drink he was holding, and found nothing. Oh well, he said to himself, if it's the wrong order I guess I really will get to talk to her today. He took a small sip, nearly gagging on the flavor. Had she ordered a cup of coffee, or a cup of warm water with sugar?

"Excuse me, miss!"

The woman stopped no more than a foot in front of the exit. "Hey, I've got to go. I'll see you at the office."

As she pocketed her phone, Dexter pointed to the cup in his hand. "I think there was a mix-up at the counter. We might have each other's coffees."

She frowned, holding the cup closer to her face, as if noticing it for the first time. Then, without warning, she took a sip. "Ugh," she said as she handed him the cup, "don't tell me you drink your coffee like that."

"I do after an all-nighter," he said as they exchanged cups.

She rolled her eyes. "Or if you're hung over."

Dexter furrowed his brow. "Which is not the case."

She muttered an "mm-hm," before drinking her sugar-flavored coffee. She then placed her hand next to her mouth, mockingly whispering, "Thanks anyways."

She waved goodbye before turning entirely to leave. Her "office" was most likely walking distance because she made no sign of pulling car keys from her pocket.

Wishing the fantasy had just stayed that, Dexter sighed, and removed his own keys from his pocket. After the previous week, he had really hoped that talking to her was a sign of his luck turning around. Then he remembered, as a man of science, he had decided to stop believing in luck a long time ago.


Blossom sprinted up the front stairs and then into her office building. She blurted an apology to her assistant, whom stood up behind her desk. Blossom set her cup of caramel cappuccino down and started untying the lace of one of her boots.

"This is why I can't let you talk me into going out the night before my client and I meet with the defendant," she said. "Are my clothes in my office?"

"Clean, pressed, and hung," her assistant said as she rolled up her sleeves to her green cardigan. "It's hanging on the back of your door."

"Thanks, Kuki."

Blossom slipped off her boots, picked them up, and then dashed into her office to change. Kuki pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and then brushed some of her long, jet black hair behind her ear before she began gathering and organizing piles of paper work on her desk. A few minutes later, Blossom emerged fully dressed in a classic black pencil-skirt, a light pink oxford shirt, and donned a pearl necklace. In one hand she had her blazer, and in the other she held her make-up bag and toothbrush. She headed for the restroom. Kuki, focused on her task, reached under her desk and pulled out a slim briefcase. She laid it open on the top of her desk, placed paper clips on the corners of similar documents, and then finished by putting all of the organized paper work inside the briefcase.

Just as the locks to the case clicked, Blossom rejoined her assistant in the main area. She looked around the room: behind the filing cabinets, next to the few indoor plants on the floor, and then under the seating across from Kuki's desk.

"Have you seen my heels, the black ones?"

Kuki shrugged. "I think I saw you putting them in your trunk last night. Sometimes I wonder if you ever go home."

Blossom frowned. "Recently, I guess I haven't been."

Her assistant handed her the brief case. "It's hard now, but things'll get better." She smiled broadly. "I'm just glad you're finally taking our help. You can't expect to do everything on your own."

Blossom took the case out of Kuki's hand. "For now. I won't bother you much longer with this kind of work."

"I like it. It's a nice change of pace from filing papers and answering the phone all day."

"I don't want you to feel like an intern. We're both professionals now. Have you seen—?"

"Your flats are next to the door. I figured you'd wear them while driving anyways."

As she slipped on her shoes, Kuki brought the cup of coffee to her boss. When Blossom took the cup from her, the assistant then handed her car keys she'd just pulled out of her own pocket.

"Oh, don't forget," Kuki said as Blossom opened the front door, "we're meeting the girls for lunch today. Abby said she could make it after all, so it'll be noon at the usual place."

"Thanks, Kuki."

Maybe Kuki had gotten the address wrong, Blossom told herself. She'd perused the case files while sitting at red lights on her way to the defendant's place of work, the previously decided location of the meeting that would bring her client's case to light. Until she pulled up to the office building, she'd missed that her client was in fact suing the Dexter of DexLabs Technologies. At the age of thirteen, Dexter founded his corporation and propelled to the top of sales by restructuring Townsville's power grid and creating new technological conveniences for the everyday person. Most of the city's Downtown area ran on DexTech and almost every household in the nation benefited in some form from the company's products. Blossom nearly squealed in excitement after exchanging her flats for her heels. If she could prove that the super genius with the extraordinary history had a dark side, she would gain national recognition.

She waited outside the main entrance of the building for her client still in awe of the case she was about to initiate. Kuki told her it was going to be an interesting one, but she never spelled out why exactly. She'd probably expected her boss to put more effort into researching each of the parties at this point. Until now, Blossom just couldn't put heart into working on another case over petty suing, assuming her client would want to take the case to a small claims court. Corporate pettiness was a different story. She thought it odd her client, a well-known corporate executive himself, was suing an individual, rather than the business as a whole. It was why she didn't find the case to be that interesting, initially. Upon further reading of her notes, she saw that the technology predated the founding of DexLabs and her client's company. This meant her client was probably more focused on tarnishing Dexter's reputation than trying to claim financial compensation.

Five minutes passed before she decided to look at her watch again. She'd purposely arrived early to review some last minute notes, but found her situation too stimulating to concentrate on reading more than she had in the car. She took in the scene around her, etching each detail in her mind as the beginning of a reality she'd worked hard to achieve. The DexLabs Main Office was at least five stories high, with a wider tower attached behind it, at least fifteen stories in height. The hexagonal shape of the tower gave the building a modern feel. The logo of the company glowed at the front of the Main Office, above the entrance: two atoms warped together to resemble a lemniscate. Across the walkway lay a small courtyard, typical in office building fashion with seating, manicured hedges, and a fountain in the center.

Blossom heard the front doors to DexLabs slide open. She quickly turned to see who had joined her. Her expression fell. The man who'd exited the building was the same man she met earlier at Morbucks. Seeing his unkempt, bright red hair again bothered her. But, she noted, he did not look like scrawny, shy guy that approached her this morning. This time he was a tall, solemn-faced man in a lab coat. If he'd stay some distance away from her, she thought, he'd be kind of handsome.

He adjusted his thinly framed rectangle glasses before speaking. "Well, well. We meet again." He grinned. "I guess it was only a matter of time."

"Why's that?" she said while trying to place his Slavic accent. It wasn't as noticeable earlier when his words lacked confidence.

"Because of that little drink mix up, you could say we inadvertently kissed. I guess you're here to experience the real thing." He laughed.

"You drank some of my cappuccino before giving it back to me?"

He folded his arms. "You drank my coffee before giving it back to me."

"Only because I thought you were lying. You looked like a typical office pervert. I guess I was right."

He dropped his arms to his sides. "If you're a man-hater, fine, but could you at least disguise your hatred a little better so we can have a normal conversation?"

"I'm only calling it like I see it. It's not my fault if you interpret my reaction to your poor attempt of hitting on me as 'man-hating.'"

The man looked away from her, slightly red-faced, folding his arms across his chest again. "Anyway, what business do you have out here?"

She glared, placing a hand on her hip. "It's really none of your concern. I was just about to ask you why you came out of that building."

"I'm waiting on my lawyer. Apparently I'm getting sued."

Blossom softened her stance, lowering her hand. "You are?"

"It's nothing new, but it is annoying." He raised an eyebrow, slightly smirking. "What, no quips about a sexual harassment charge?"

Blossom stepped forward and grabbed the badge clipped onto the man's coat. When she pulled it closer to read, the man leaned forward so as not to lose it. She felt her stomach give way, as if the bottom fell through, and the ground beneath her disappeared. "You're—"

They made eye contact for a brief second before she let go of his name badge. She blushed, overwhelmed by her sudden realization.

"Oh, I see where this is going," Dexter said flatly. "You're Mandark's lawyer. I bet you're fresh out of law school, too."

"What makes you say that?" She turned her back to him.

"Well, it's just that, some of these charges are old news. Either you're new, or Mandark's hiding things from you, which if I'm not mistaken is kind of a bad idea for your case."

Blossom responded with the cold shoulder routine.

"Hey, come on, there's no need to act that way. I could give you a hint, if you'd like—"

"Don't screw with me," she said quietly.

Dexter put his hands in his lab coat pockets. "Right. I guess it's time to act like adults."


When his lawyer walked up, Dexter nearly cried out in joy. The awkward atmosphere weighed too much for him to handle on his own. He held out his hand to greet her. "Mandy, long time no see!"

Mandy ignored him, and instead addressed her peer. "My name is Amanda, but I go by Mandy. I see you've met my client. If he's already offended you, you'll have to forgive him. He was born with the social ineptitude of poorly reading the atmosphere."

Dexter fought the urge to combat her remark, choosing to remain stone-faced. He trusted her to sense something went wrong when she wasn't here.

"I'm Blossom. I'm sorry—I don't mean to sound pretentious," she began, "but isn't it a bit inappropriate to call my client an idiot and your client socially inept, regardless of his actual physical or mental status?"

Mandy smirked, which often meant trouble. "I like you. So I'll be straightforward with you. The three of us go way back. Our clients, in fact, went to the same grade school. As kids, they would sabotage each other's work. As adults, they're doing the same thing through the legal system. It's like a game to them. Don't take it personally. They are after one another's money and the legal cases they've brought against the other are very serious, but no matter the outcome, they just end up squabbling again at some point. It pays my bills, so I don't mind the redundancy."

Dexter placed a hand on Mandy's shoulder. "Okay, that's enough history with the enemy, don't you think?"

She pinched the back of his hand. "And you. It's been six months and you only call me because of your antics? You missed my wedding."

"I was busy," he said as he rubbed his hand, pouting slightly. "I told you that."

"You'll explain later." She nodded towards the bottom of the stairs. "Your client's here, Blossom."

Dexter and Blossom followed Mandy's stare. The owner of DexLabs rolled his eyes at, what he felt, was the causation of his recent bout of bad luck. If Mandark hadn't initiated this lawsuit, Dexter wouldn't have had the opportunity to stick his foot in his mouth with Blossom earlier. He was miffed by her attitude towards him this morning, and wanted to extract a little verbal revenge, under the assumption they would never speak to one another again. But now they would see each other more often than he'd like.

"Greetings, everyone, I apologize for being late. I had some personal matters to attend to." He smoothed out the bottom of his red tie.

Dexter was a little surprised his rival had worn a suit to this meeting, rather than lab attire, but made an attempt to hide this.

"Dexter, I'm shocked. You actually look like you showered and shaved today. What's the special occasion?"

Mandy held her arm in front of Dexter before he could respond. "Enough. You're late, so as punishment, you only get to speak when your lawyer gives you permission. And same goes for you Dexter, as punishment for being a bad friend. Now let's get inside and start this. I still have to drive all the way back to Endsville after this."


Blossom flopped down into the chair of one of the sandwich shop's tables. Her meeting ended earlier than expected. Mandy seemed genuinely impressed by the research the prosecutor and her assistant had done, declaring that there was a reason to pursue one of the charges, whether it be inside or outside a courtroom. She requested more time to prepare the terms for the first round of negotiations with Dexter. The prosecution agreed, not being entirely prepared either, though Blossom and Mandark non-verbally agreed to omit this from the conversation. Blossom couldn't help but feel a little satisfied by how pale Dexter's face was by the end of the meeting. But there was no way to call this a victory for her just yet. Her relationship with her client was unsettling, by her standards. She felt as if she had only peered into the vat of information she would later bathe in by the end of this case.

"Girl, you look exhausted."

Blossom sat up straight, quickly following the voice to its source. She smiled, greeting her friends Abby and Kuki. "Abby, you don't know the half of it."

They joined her at the table.

"How did it go?" Kuki asked while leaning forward.

"It was… interesting. You were right, though. There's more to this case than it initially seemed. I have a feeling this goes further than a faulty patent." She sighed. "I don't want to think about it anymore, for now."

At that moment, the remaining members of their lunch party arrived: Blossom's sisters, Bubbles and Buttercup. She was amused at the sight of them standing side-by-side; they were quite the opposites. Bubbles, blonde and blue-eyed usually wore pastels and brightly colored, feminine dresses while Buttercup, dark-haired with eyes like jade, dressed in black t-shirts and jeans. Despite their physical differences, their choice of professions overlapped. Bubbles was a costume designer for local performance groups, and sometimes Buttercup would ask their sister to come up with styles for her independent rock band. Perhaps she was the one most opposite to her sisters, Blossom mused to herself. It amazed her how different they'd grown up to be, starting out similar as triplets.

When the sisters joined the table, their group became the liveliest in the shop. They hugged, laughed, and added dramatic gestures when telling stories about everyday goings-on in their lives. After catching up on their day so far, they addressed the fun of the antics they'd gotten into the previous night.

"Sometimes, I think we're as bad as my students," Abby said with a laugh.

Blossom liked listening to Abby's stories about her twelfth grade Government Class. As a teacher, Abby had a special talent for balancing the duality of being young, trendy, and connected with her students while still commanding respect for the rules in her classroom. Her ability to motivate the youth to learn about world issues was inspiring. Blossom often wished Abby used her interest in politics to pursue a career in law, but understood her desire to stay amongst everyday people. Abby often joked if she had become a lawyer, she'd lack the time to keep her house safe while her husband worked on his inventions, when he wasn't giving lectures as an engineering professor at the local university.

Blossom first shared a class with Kuki and met Abby soon after. Abby and Kuki, she found out early on, were childhood friends that grew up together in the same neighborhood, along with Abby's current husband, Hoagie, and Kuki's boyfriend, Wally. As Blossom's career progressed, she shared more classes with Hoagie, making him a valuable asset to her line of work. If there was some part of technology she didn't understand in a case, Hoagie could explain it in terminology she grasped quicker.

"We need to get to ordering if I'm going to make it back to class on time," Abby said, standing, eying her wristwatch.

Blossom pushed her chair back, but remained sitting when Bubbles laid her hand on her forearm.

"Buttercup said she'd treat you today."

She looked to her other sister, whom, with Abby and Kuki, was already in the process of leaving the table. "Oh, no, you don't have to—"

"You like that turkey bistro thing, right?"

"Yeah," Blossom said half-heartedly. She waited until the others were out of earshot before turning to Bubbles. "You guys have got to stop paying my way for me."

She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. You deserve it!"

"You don't have to keep treating it like it just happened," Blossom said while pulling her chair back to the table. "It was dying relationship anyways. I expected us to break up."

"But it did just happen. You were with him for years and the last month you lived together. Two weeks isn't enough time—"

"I don't have any time to worry about it. I might have my first case that could really help get me recognition for other work."

Bubbles groaned. "So that's it, then? You're going to marry your job?"

"Marriage to anyone or anything is the least of my concerns," she said with a laugh.

Her sister tapped her fingers across the top of the table. After a moment, she sighed, and then said, "Is your client single, at least?"

"N-no. He's married, and he and his wife are expecting their first child."

Though Mandark's dark features and slender build were attractive in their own right, she had no desire to pursue any sort of personal relationship with him. By withholding information from her already, she was convinced her initial perception of him was not too far off. He was a well-guarded individual with a harsh demeanor, acting only on self-interest. But she wasn't hired to weigh the moral standards of her client. As she thought about her second meeting with the defendant, she blushed, deciding to not mention his assumed bachelor status.

The others returned with their orders. Kuki was the first to notice Bubbles had yet to order anything. It was then she admitted that after meeting with everyone here, she was going to a luncheon for a dance troupe she had recently designed costumes for; the director wanted to show her off to others who might be interested in her work.

Blossom understood where her sister's concern for her personal relationships came from, Bubbles being the most maternal of the three. But sometimes she wished she would take her own advice. If she was so concerned about Blossom's relationships, why hadn't she taken the time to engage in one of her own? It was a thought quickly pushed aside when the meeting from earlier crossed her mind once more. She needed time to sort everyone's story out.

"Welcome to Morbucks Coffee, what can I get you today?"

"One medium chocolate caramel cappuccino, and… a medium coffee."

"Which roast would you like with that coffee, ma'am?"

Blossom thought for a moment, recalling the small sip of what she had mistaken as her own drink yesterday. It was the bitterest drink she'd ever tasted.

"Your darkest roast, please."

She'd hoped Dexter was a man of ritual and would return to Morbucks this morning. If not, the next time they could speak, Mandy would be there filtering what he should and shouldn't say, giving Mandy and Dexter the advantage. No matter how hard she thought about her own morning visits to this coffee shop, she could not remember if she'd ever noticed him before yesterday. As of late, she couldn't consider what she did in the mornings as part of any routine. On a whim she would order from this shop, other times she would eat breakfast with her sisters or Kuki at a locally owned hot spot.

Blossom decided her base of operations would be one of the tables closest to the front counter. She'd dressed conservatively in grey trousers, a white dress shirt, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. If her polished, no-nonsense style failed to stand out, her pose would not. She sat with her back to the counter, facing the entrance of the store, and legs crossed, adjacent to the table. It excited her, setting up this meeting, as if she were a game hunter. She smirked when her target walked through the door.

As expected, it did not take long for Dexter to notice her. He caught sight of her in his peripheral vision as he stood in line. He did a double-take before blatantly staring at her, arching his brow.

"Good morning," she said, greeting him with a beaming smile.

"You."

"I've taken the liberty of ordering for you. Would you like to join me?"

She watched as he weighed his options. Sarcastic quips did not come easily to him in the morning, she assumed. He took a seat across from her at the table as she re-positioned herself to face him. She slid his cup of coffee in front of him, but he took no interest in it. A silent moment passed between them. Dexter's expression hadn't changed since he first noticed her. Blossom prepared herself for a witty retort from him, but felt a little disappointed when she realized they were not going to begin by conversing with their usual banter.

"It's still black—I didn't know if you wanted anything in it, so I left it alone."

"I wonder," he said, looking down at his cup, "if this tactic has actually ever worked for you. By pretending to take interest in my personal preferences, do you think I'm going to tell you more information?"

"It's not really a matter of 'how much.' I need specifics. As head of your company, I'm sure you know setting a sense of equality between two negotiating parties is a key factor to coming to an agreement. If I can establish this mutuality now, I should have no problem in attaining the information I need."

"Then what's in it for me?"

"It would be best to cooperate to avoid any additional charges, I should think."

"I think your definition of mutuality is warped." He took a long drink of his coffee.

Blossom seized this moment to rethink her strategy. Naturally, he felt cornered by this confrontation. Defensive retorts were not helpful. She would have to find a way to drop his guard. Perhaps it was time to change the subject.

"Another all-nighter?" she said.

He leaned back in his chair. "The sympathetic card isn't going to work either, sister."

"I know." She smirked. "I find it amusing you wouldn't try gaining sympathy from me. Yesterday, you noticed I was inexperienced. You could use that to your advantage. I'm only human after all."

"I'm not convinced."

She laughed, looking down at her hands, entertained by her own private thoughts. Just as quickly as they appeared, she pushed them away to rejoin their conversation. "I understand it's a very stressful situation for you right now. Your reputation is at stake, and no monetary value can replace it. You're probably wondering if I already view you as guilty. But that answer doesn't matter because I'm not here to help you. I was hired to take the opposing position in this case. At the end of it, if the justice system acts as it should, one of us will be rightly proven wrong. The only advice I can give you is this," she said as she stood up, "get some rest. If you aren't guilty, then there's no changing that. If you don't take care of yourself, you won't be able to do what's best for you. So whenever you think you're ready, you should call me to continue this interview." She pulled her business card out of her pocket and offered it to him. She knew it was next to impossible they would speak again without Mandy present, but her intuition told her to offer it regardless.

He hesitated before taking the card out of her hand.

Blossom picked up her cup and then pushed in her chair. "Right, well, I'm sure you're pretty busy so I'll be going. Just leave a message with my assistant whenever you want to get together." She waved as she made her way to leave.

When she stood outside the coffee shop, she sighed. She wanted to revisit yesterday and correct her behavior. What she thought was a harmless joke could set her case back, depending on how tight-lipped Dexter decided to be. She needed to hear, from both sides, the origin of the microchip in the patent in question. If he hadn't stolen the idea from her client, she would have to get him to admit the microchip was used in a way not described in the patent. If the latter was a reality, it would nullify the patent Dexter submitted, making the one Mandark registered the only real patent. From Blossom's current understanding, this microchip was in most of DexLabs and Mandark Industries' industrial grade products. The chip acted as a failsafe for the energy capacitors in the robotics. If, for any number of reasons, a robot experienced too much or too little energy in its system, the chip would turn off the robot until it could be repaired. It was essential to have this precaution so as not to cause injury to people near the machines.

Today she felt she made up for her actions a little. This was the best course of action: plant a seed of trust and wait for it to grow. She was confident Dexter would talk to her about the chip. The unusual part of her case actually rested with her client.

After yesterday's meeting, Mandark explained to her the reason for his tardiness. He had been with his wife, and their doctor. An hour before he arrived, he'd learned they were expecting their first child. With this news, he decided he would be unavailable for any sort of questioning from her or any further work for the case. He presented to her a badge that would allow her access to his company and any company files. Blossom wanted to protest, but she felt the oddity of her current situation stifling. He was setting her up for failure. Regardless, she found no way to vocalize this with evidence. She understood parenthood was a life changing experience, even if she'd never been close to entering it herself. Perhaps the term should have been "all consuming" rather than "life changing," though she didn't realize a child would consume all of ones time without even being born.

When Blossom entered her office building, she found it empty, noting Kuki's belongings for research were gone. Yesterday Blossom gave the Mandark Industries badge to Kuki, putting her in charge of collecting information from her client's computer files. When she finished explaining the entirety of their situation with the case after their luncheon, Kuki whistled. Blossom agreed the chances of this case going to its full potential was still up in the air, but assured her they were going to give it their all. She still couldn't shake the feeling of missing the bigger picture between the two corporate executives.

She sat in her office, finishing her cappuccino while checking her e-mail. Laughing to herself, she opened the letter from Kuki. Did she think her boss couldn't manage things without her for a few hours? Blossom looked over the letter quickly, gasping at the end of it. She'd forgotten she had made an appointment with another client today to give legal advising. In thirty minutes, he'd be here, expecting her to discuss a potential case.

Jumping from her chair, she hit her thigh on the inside of her desk, knocking over her cup and spilling its contents into her lap. The drink wasn't as hot as it initially was, but the spill caused her to stand in shock for a moment. She kicked her desk and then picked up the cup and threw it into her garbage can. As for the remaining coffee, she used paper towels from the office bathroom to clean it up. When the mess was taken care of, she sat back into her chair and sighed. Perhaps she could hide the spot on her pants with some paperwork when she went to greet her client, spend the rest of her time behind her desk, and go home to change before Kuki got back. But first she would need the paperwork for today's client.

Blossom looked through the drawers of her assistant's desk, skimming over the paperwork, and pulling documents that had recent dates. The phone rang. She answered it offhandedly.

"This is the Law Office of Utonium, Utonium speaking."

"So you run your own office, huh? Where did Mandark find you?"

She sat up straight in the chair, dropping the papers on the desk. "O-oh, it's you. That was quick."

"I thought you wanted to talk to me."

"I do!" she said quickly, "A-about the case. I just didn't think you'd be willing to talk so soon. When can I put you down for?" She reached for Kuki's planner and a pen.

The door to the office opened, and Blossom removed the receiver from her ear. Dexter stepped inside, slightly out of breath, pocketing his cell phone. He was wearing his lab coat, leading Blossom to believe he made up his mind to go to her office shortly after arriving at work.

"Actually, I'm available right now," he said while grinning.

She placed the receiver down. "I'm about to see a client. Now's not a good time."

"Absolutely," he said, placing his thumb and forefinger around his chin. "Looks like your client will just have to reschedule."

"No, you're going to have to make an appointment with me first."

"Well, the thing is, I don't know if I'll be willing to talk any time after this. I might just decide to relay everything through my lawyer instead. But in this moment in time… gee, I guess I'm willing to talk about anything, really." He shrugged.

Blossom stared at him for a moment, taken aback from his sudden audacity. Maybe, she thought, she should have slipped him a decaf coffee instead.

"Anyways, why are you sitting at someone else's desk? Or did you lie about your name?" he asked while adjusting his glasses. He'd read the name plate at the front of the desk.

"This is my assistant's desk. I was looking for the paperwork for my next appointment." She blushed, willing the spilled coffee on her pants to dry faster. "Listen, I can't cancel this appointment. He's on his way here now."

"But he isn't here. There's still time."

She slapped her hands on the desk, standing. "Stop acting like a spoiled brat. I don't have time for this right now."

"This doesn't help my argument against the brat claim, but do you know it looks like you've wet—"

"I know!" she said, sitting back down. "I hit my leg on my desk and spilt my coffee just before you called." She closed her eyes and massaged her temples, wishing she could hide for a few minutes in her office. "I was just going to wing it until after this client and then go home and change. I mean, I've got something to wear in the meantime, but it isn't very professional. I don't mean it's entirely unprofessional, but in my case, it wouldn't really look well for me to wear it." She covered her mouth to stop herself from continuing. She didn't need to justify herself to him, nor did she want his pity.

He scratched the back of his head, and then snapped his fingers. "Okay, I've got it. You can go change your clothes and I'll take care of your client."

"I'm not leaving you here alone. I won't know if you've told him anything inappropriate."

"Then change into your other clothes and hide out nearby. And if I say or do anything wrong, you could always step in."

Blossom bit her lower lip. "Well, okay. I guess I could listen from my office." She looked over at the clock on the wall across from her. She only had ten minutes before her appointment started. "This is totally unprofessional," she muttered as she left the desk.

She retrieved her dress from her car and then ran back inside the office. In one breath she told Dexter she'd seen her client from the road and slammed her office door shut, locking it behind her. As she changed into her dress, she listened to the men by pressing her ear to the door.

"You're Mr. Jamison, correct?"

Perhaps he wasn't as much of an idiot as she thought. He'd known to look for her clients name on the papers on Kuki's desk.

"That's right, but, I thought you were a Ms. Utonium."

"I apologize, but Ms. Utonium is actually unavailable today."

"Oh, but I made an appointment with her—"

"Yes, yes, she mentioned that. Unfortunately, I'm the reason for her being unavailable. It's a bit of an emergency in my case, and I know your time is valuable, so let's compromise. How much did she charge you for your time? I'll double that if you let me have her for the day."

"Oh, no, I couldn't—"

"A thousand dollars and a promise you'll call back tomorrow to reschedule ought to do it."

They were silent for a moment as Dexter filled out a check for the man. Blossom pulled herself away from the door to readjust her dress in attempt to pull the zipper all the way up. She didn't need to listen to the rest of the conversation. Her head felt like it was spinning. She leaned forward on her desk to ease her dizziness. He'd paid a complete stranger a thousand dollars to monopolize the rest of her time. Where was he going with this?

She heard a knock on her door.

"Yes?"

"Just thought you should know it's all taken care of," he said.

"Why did you do that?" She swung the door open.

He took a step back. "Do what?"

She felt the blood rushing to her face. "Why did you pay him all that money?"

"Is it a lot? I don't remember anymore. Mandy bills me and I usually have H.R. take care the payments." He smirked. "A little black dress. Classy. Do you always keep one of those on hand?"

"No, it's from—" She paused. "Forget it. I couldn't get the zipper in the back. Will you help?" she said while looking at the floor.

"Sure."

She turned around while pulling her hair over her shoulder, hoping she'd pulled it up high enough to cover the back of her bra. This wouldn't feel as awkward, she thought, if she hadn't seen his expression before she turned around. Their cheeks were flushed with a matching crimson color. But it was better than the zipper slipping down if she'd made the wrong move.

"Thanks," she mumbled as she turned back around.

"I guess you want to get back to your place to change."

"Oh, you're coming with me," she said while placing her hands on her hips. "You've been acting too spontaneously for my taste, and I don't want you to decide you've changed your mind while I'm gone."

He made to speak a few times before settling on agreeing.