It's Like Saying 'Please' By Way of My Cane
Summary: Ficlette depicting a random -- but always entertaining -- encounter between Brad Chase and Alan Shore. (No Slash)
Disclaimer: So far as I'm informed, they don't belong to me. If ever they do, you'll be sure to know.
A/N: Too short even to be considered a one-shot and too random to incorporate into a novel-length fic. Just a snippet I was inspired to write. No other purpose other for my own amusement. And conerning the title, aka "Game, Set & Match." Though the current one does leave more to the imagination.
"Alan!"
The head of the aforementioned popped out of the door he had just disappeared through and was quickly followed by the rest of him at the sight of his assailant.
"Yes? Was that my name I heard resounding through the corridors?" he asked curiously, one eyebrow risen in amusement. Without a word, Brad brandished a print of a lurid picture at him accusingly, and Alan paused both speech and movement to admire it, tilting his head to the side.
"Ah, yes, I opted for the blue dress because it brings out her eyes, though I was in two minds whether or not to go for the traditional black to," another admiring glance at the photo, "bring out the whip."
"You're a lawyer, Alan! One with questionable methods and dubious human ethics but even so, you cannot go round extorting your own clients," exclaimed Brad indignantly. He grimaced at the photo in his hand and shoved it at Alan.
"She's extremely talented. I have frequent flyer miles," he informed the ex-Marine, taking the picture and studying it further. "I call this one 'Debilitating Man- It's like saying 'please' by way of my cane'. What do you think?"
"This isn't a joke. You could be disbarred for this."
Alan removed his gaze from the - in his opinion - brilliantly tasteless imagery and spared his colleague a slightly less jubilant expression.
"Actually, I won't," said Alan assuredly. "Not if you want to make partner and not if he doesn't want to go to prison."
"Some things are more important than making partner -"
"Like getting a colleague fired, for instance?" asked Alan offhandedly.
Brad sighed wearily before attempting to begin again.
"Listen, that's not how things are done at -"
"Crane, Poole and Schmidt," Alan finished for him. "Then I suggest you report me to the board. Until then, I'm late for an extremely important and costly meeting that simply can't wait. I'm told she will be wearing black."
Just as he turned and was about to leave, Brad continued with the argument he'd so hoped was over.
"I'm curious, Alan, how things'll go over during your exit interview with Paul. And what's with this thing you have with posters? Granted, Chase for D.A. - not bad. I suppose next we're gonna see whatever you've got in that art portfolio you were caressing last week?"
Swivelling on his heel, one hand against the frame of the door to his office, the other on his tie, Alan smirked smugly at him.
"I'm afraid not. While the contents of that portfolio would no doubt be extremely motivational, they're mine alone to caress," he said candidly. "I would also have some difficulty devising a caption, since the contents in question have a tendency to deprive me of words."
A pause as Brad surveyed him before Alan retreated to his office triumphantly and closed the door behind him, leaving an irked and irresolute Brad in the corridor. Inside, Alan sat heavily in his office chair, allowing the tension to ease for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Game, set and match.