Okay, so this is Angel's life in a nutshell...Go to work, work out, work on her cases, work on her beauty...WORK! But I hope Nate makes up for her total lack of life in SMEXY-NESS. Just imagine the sexiest person in the world. Y'all will be right. I think. Not the most dramatic of chapters, but nessasary, as it shows how she handles herself as a lawyer rather than as a woman. MORE OF VERGIL, LESS OF NATE. This is where he is innit the most anyways, so far.

Buh-bye. XOOXOXOXOX

I jumped a little, startled.

My alarm went off, being a stupid, hyperactive thing, and I rolled over my mess of blankets to switch it off.

Groaning, I rolled into my groove, my dip in my corner of my bed. I snuggled closer into the warmth of the blankets, sighing a sweet, happy sigh of pure and total bliss.

I felt good.

I loved sleep; it was my relaxing time.

Opening my eyes slowly, I almost screamed.

Mr. Sparda, his arms wrapped around me, throat centimetres away from my eyes – my nose pushed against his skin, his arms invading my space and privacy, his cool blue eyes staring back at me with a raised eyebrow and amused smirk-

"Get your hands off of me." I growled.

"You were spooning me, Miss Williams. And good morning to you too." He let my arms go, and I freed my legs from under one of his thighs.

I jumped onto the floor, flushed, and stark raving mad.

"I spooned you?"

"Yes. Indeed you did."

"I did nothing of the sort! Youwere holdingme!" I half yelled, my voice husky and not as nearly as intimidating as it would be if I had a little caffeine in me.

"Yes, you did. After about fifteen minutes after you fell asleep, actually, I was dozing, and I felt those cold little feet pressed against my legs. I almost took your head off." He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows.

I growled, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You're lying."

"For a lawyer, you aren't very good at spotting a lair from an innocent, are you?" he mused bitterly, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't have time for this!" I said shortly, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'm supposed to be in the shower. Don't talk to me unless you want your jaw pulled off." I snapped, gathering my work clothes and stomping to the shower.

I passed the mirror, glowering at my reflection.

Fuzzy unkempt hair, eyes large and gooey from lack of sleep, tank top twisted around my torso, panties shimmering in the sunlight, absence of pants…

I think my eye twitched.

I dropped all my clothes and stormed back to my room, where Mr. Sparda stood, shirt hanging from his hand.

"I was wondering when you were going to notice." He said blandly.

My jaw dropped a little.

Oh my, my roommate is a Greek God…

"You-…Did…Did you….?!"

"No, I did not." He said coldly.

I growled. "I fell asleep wearing pants, Mr. Sparda." I spat through clenched teeth.

"Evidently, you took them off when you began to have a nightmare." He said in a calmer voice than I expected.

"I didn't have a nightmare." I replied, never to be out done, straining to stay calm.

"Yes, you did. You clung to me through the entire ordeal of it."

But in this case- "I do not cling!" I exploded, eyes narrowing.

"I assure you," he said in a softly dangerous voice. "you wouldn't let me go."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a very deep breath.

"I'm going to have a shower. I'm going to get dressed and go to work, and I will be back at about nine o'clock tonight. Good day, Mr. Sparda." I said coolly, walking as opposed to stomping, down the hall to my dropped clothes.

I picked them up and laid them neatly on the toilet next to me.

I locked the door, not trusting him with it open, and pulled my shirt off over my head.

Undressed, the water beating hot against my skin, I planned my day, from start to finish, in my head. I scrubbed my hair with shampoo, closing my eyes against the attack of bubbles flowing down my forehead.

How will I get the Vermont case…? I have to have a pitch, but they won't give it to me unless they know I can handle two cases at once…Maybe I should neglect to mention the Smiths?

Now, there is something you should know about the Vermont case.

It is not a specific case – more like job of the month.

You do a few Vermont cases ( assigned to you especially by Dr. Jessie ) your practically lawyer royalty.

I scrubbed the shampoo away and replaced it with a generous handful of conditioner. I ran my fingers through to the tips of my hair, working away the frizz and knots away.

Dr. Jessie was a kind hearted man, easily swayed with the notion of second chances, right versus wrong, and challenges for the mind and all sorts of rubbish. But before you went to him, you went before a meeting consisting of the hardest lawyers in the city.

If you've heard the term 'A rock and a Hard Place', this was the hard place.

Mr. Sans, was not only the most hormone driven of the entire lot, but the boss who had a lot of influence on the cases he and his co-workers gave out.

I was going to shamelessly target and destroy him, going up against Bianca.

Groaning as my timer went off, I turned the knobs off and patted my face, chest, arms and stomach dry, wrapping the towel around me then stepped out into the steamy room.

I blow-dried my hair, styling it to sit wavy down to the centre of my back, and fringe pulled to the side.

I pushed both puppies into the push up bra, and struggled into the shirt.

Damn, they seem to be getting bigger.

I slipped my heels on and applied my smokiest, most sexy eye shadow before adding large amounts of mascara and cherry red lipstick.

Knockout, if I do say so myself.

I perfected my pout, then began to strut down the hall to get my jacket, purse and brief case, which I managed to snatch without having to confront the vile, insolent being that was my room mate.

I pulled my jacket from the hanger, pulled my Gucci from the coat rack and left with out so much as a mention to Mr. Sparda, slamming the door to announce my leaving instead.

Mr. Sans was a large man, squeezing into his usual grey suit and lavender tie, sometimes being a little crazy and trading the tie for pink, or red. Or perhaps the suit for a shade of darker grey, or maybe even a hint of yellow to his shirt.

He looked like a walrus, with a moustache, really. A very pale, skin tagged, small beady brown eyed, grey haired walrus. A short walrus, standing at about five nine, still towering over my four eleven.

Not in these heels, though…

And as I passed the conference door once, to go check in, I shuddered at the thought of him eyeing me off today like a piece of meat.

Dr. Jessie, an attractive man, with blonde wavy hair, smooth cream coloured skin, would be a much better candidate. He stood at out five eleven, and his crooked grin and soft palms could manage to work a blush over my cheeks at the barest minimum.

It was hard to think they were related – with Mr. Walrus – Sans – being his elder uncle. Dr. Jessie was a lawyer, and a psychiatrist. He had a brilliant head and heart. He insisted that we called him by his first name, as opposed to 'Dr. Sans', because according to him, he didn't want to sound so old. I thought that maybe he didn't want anyone to know who he was related to.

All eyes were on me as I entered the meeting room.

I was late, only by one minute- people were still standing.

I was surrounded by glass, so I knew just how perfect my hips swayed under the coat.

Various lawyers of random rankings littered the table, all of them, male or female, raising eyebrows in my direction.

Some more suggestive than others.

I flicked my hair back and strutted to the head of the table.

Amongst the blacks, greys, whites and occasional brown, Bianca Jones stood out horridly clad in pale pink.

"Bianca. How surprising to see you here." I said boredly.

She smiled at me. "Taking a leaf out of my book, Angel?"

"Hardly. I'm here for the case." I undid the belt holding my jacket closed slowly, then peeled the jacket from my arms with a grace I had never guessed capable of myself.

"Now, where were we?" I asked sweetly, placing my jacket on the back of my chair and looking over at Mr. Sans, who sat at the head of the table.

Judging by the slack jawed expression on his face, I was going to get the case in ten minutes flat.

His moustache bristled – his face turned red and I could see sweat beading on his receding hairline.

"We…" he took a large gulp of hair, almost sucking the room in with it, and continued . "We were just getting started, Miss Williams. Please, take a seat."

"Why, thankyou, Mr. Sans. Ever the gentleman, I see." I drawled in an almost bored tone.

Had to keep them guessing. And plus, I was already seated, hands under my chin, lips pouted.

"We are here today, to allocate the most recent case of higher ranking status to those who are worthy."

In other words, auction it off because no one really wanted it until no one had it, then every one wanted it.

"Those who are interested, raise your hands and give a valid reason."

I, along with Bianca, rose our hands.

"Well?" he said gruffly.

I eyed Bianca. She eyed me. I stood, flashing her a smile.

"This particular case has caught my eye. I believe with every fibre of my being, that not only could I solve it, I could award justice to the guilty and closure to the families affected. Questions? Comments? Good." I finished, keeping it short, sweet, and simple. Very me. I had no particular style, but when I wanted something within reason, I saw no qualms as to getting it.

There was a general murmur and I saw Mr. Sans eyes travel from my eyes to my lips – down my throat to my chest.

Typical male.

"That's…very honest." He took a breath in. "Miss Jones?"

Bianca smiled at him, then rose elegantly from her chair.

"When I first started out at this firm, I was told to dedicate myself fully to a case. I agree holey and solely with Miss Williams, but I'm afraid that this case added to her already stressful working condition, might just disable her focus for the shortest while."

I narrowed my eyes at her.

Oh, she doesn't fight fair.

"What already stressful workload?" enquired Mrs. Kennedy, an aging old bat who sat on the right of Mr. Sans, reminding me of a female Professor Snape. Greasy salt and pepper hair, unplucked eyebrows, nasty, narky, bitchy, rather large nose bent at a slightly odd angle, collar drawn around her throat…

I stood.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Jones." I smiled, cocking my head to the side at her.

"But I don't see what prompted you to go through my personal things."

"I wasn't intentionally going through them, of course not. My clumsy hands slipped, and I saw how hard you would be working for your boss."

"Why where you in my cubical, may I enquire?" I asked smoothly.

She smirked. "No, you may not."

"Ladies, please." Said Mr. Sans, lugging his big walrus self up. "Take the cat fight outside, if you will."

I smiled at him. "Of course not. We're all composed, mature adults. Why would we fight?"

"Were we fighting?" Bianca giggled, pressing her hand into an already bludging bust.

I smiled. "Of course not. You'd know if I was fighting you, sweetheart."

"Oh? And how's that?"

My smile practically doubled as I got the best mental image of pulling out her fake hair.

"Trust me, hun. You'd know."

There was an awkward silence.

One half of me wanted to yell and throw things, but the other, more dominant half, told me to keep a cool composure. To which I did.

"I'd like the Vermont case."

I shot a look down the end of the table, as did everybody else.

A new guy, black hair, green eyes, cocky grin – stared up at us.

"Well, do you have a reason, Mr…?"

"Gabriel. Nathan, Gabriel."

I rolled my eyes.

He strolled up to the head of the table, which is when I took in his figure.

Tall, taller than Dr. Jessie, and certainly tanner.

I take it back. Apparently my new co-worker is a Greek God. Damn!

Black curls swept away from his forehead, cocky grin fading into a cute smile, nice ass.

Encased in a jet black suit, tie loose and top button undone, he took a seat next to Bianca.

"I'd like to prove myself, sir. You know, new guy, I gotta feeling this is the make or break case. I have a gut feeling it's a 'make' case." He made the quote signs in the air. I raised an eyebrow.

Arrogant, cocky bastard.

"I like you, Mr. Gabriel. You've got it." Smiled the Prof. Snape look a like.

Oh. No. She. Didn't.

"What?" cried Bianca, slapping a hand over her mouth. "I mean, but sir, shouldn't you put us before the good doctor?"

I rolled my eyes and sat down.

"Give it up, Princess. You lose."

"A good lawyer never gives up!" she barked at me, all sweetness gone.

"No, a good lawyer knows when to give up." I corrected her coolly.

"She's right, you know." Murmured Mr. Walrus - Sans - to the elderly woman.

"Yes, indeed she is." She mumbled.

They shared a heated banter for a while, then Mrs. Snape's ink black eyes narrowed at me.

"Angel, you're working a joint case with Mr. Gabriel." Barked Mrs. Kennedy.

I rose a cool eyebrow. "What about Dr. Jessie?"

"What about him? He's on vacation." She snapped, standing. "Either you work with him, or Miss Jones does."

I smiled at the old lady. "Of course, I'd never deny Mr. Gabriel the pleasure of my company."

She narrowed her eyes, further, looking like she was trying to read fine print than glare.

I, however, had my glare perfected.

Give it up, lady. You're too old, and married.

She walked out of the room her nose in the air.

"Dismissed, Miss Williams, Miss Jones, Mr Gabriel."

"Thank you, sir." I murmured, picking up my jacket and swinging it around my shoulders.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, bro."

I raised an eyebrow at the new kid, who was shaking Mr. Sans' hand with a lot of enthusiasm.

Silently fuming, I smirked as Bianca sunk further down in her chair, preparing for the lengthy meeting ahead of her, no doubt.

Competitive, but not patient.

As I walked out of the office, and down to my cubical, I muttered a cuss then turned to retrieve my brief case.

"Oh!" in heels this high, in a skirt this tight, after slamming into somebody, I had no chance.

I toppled over backwards, closing my eyes for impact –

I opened my eyes when I didn't hit the ground.

To stare up into the gorgeous green orbs of the new guy. One of his massive hands were braced under my armpit and around my back, the other behind my head.

He grinned cockily.

"Well, that's one hell of a welcome."

His legs, strong and athletic even through the layer of suit, were on either side of mine.

I shut my knees on instinct.

He laughed, standing me upright.

"You okay, babe?"

"My name is Angel." I groaned, hand over my heart. "And you scared the shit out of me."

He chuckled, and extended a hand. "Nate Gabriel, ex-FBI, saviour of helpless falling females since the day I was born."

I took it, shook it, then said coldly. "Angel Williams, current lawyer and black belt one dan of karate."

He grinned.

"Black belt, huh?"

"Yes."

I tried to walk around him, but he caught my arm and spun me around, seemingly knowing I couldn't do anything but kick his shins in this outfit.

He held me as if in a tango, and dipped me.

"Looking for something?" he purred.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You got fired for sexual harassment, didn't you?"

He laughed, "I wish, babe."

"It's Angel."

"Oh baby, you look like an angel. More like a devil, with that whole smoky eye thing goin' on-"

"Stand me up straight, Mr. Gabriel." I said coldly.

"It's Nate, to you." He grinned.

"Nathan," I began in a warning tone.

"Deal." He chuckled, standing me up straight.

I pulled my shirt down, feeling the blood fill my cheeks when I realised that it had ridden up some, and turned to walk away.

"Hey, babe, wait."

I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Has anyone ever told you, you're like an annoying, over excited puppy?"

He pouted.

"You don't even know me."

"I can assume."

He stuck his tongue out, winked, then grinned.

"Come to dinner with me."

I raised both eyebrows, then snorted, turning to retrieve said briefcase.

"I don't have time for this."

He skidded around me and in front of me, holding my case to his chest.

"I didn't want to have to resort to bribery." He cooed.

I made a snatch for it but he held it above my head.

I scowled. "Give me that case, Mr. Gabriel."

"Nate." He corrected. "And why? It's the only chance I got to spend the night looking into those gorgeous green eyes of yours."

I shook my head. "Desperado, give me my case back." I reached for it, but didn't even come close. His over long arms held it above his head, not even extending to their full range.

I groaned. "I can't even sleep in my bed without annoying males popping up and stealing my spots." I muttered. "Now this…?"

His grin faltered. "You have a boyfriend?"

"I'll tell you if you give me my case back." I said calmly.

He handed it back with a weary eye.

"No." I told him flatly, turning in the other direction to walk to my cubical.

He ran around me and held his hands out. "What about for a meeting? You know, joint case?" he said hopefully.

"Joint case…? Oh. Right. Vermont's."

He chuckled. "The case you get all dolled up for to get, and you can't even remember? Jeeze, babe, you really need to come to dinner with me. Loosen up some."

"Angel."

"I know you are."

I rubbed my temple. "You are exceedingly annoying. I don't have time to socialise."

"But it wouldn't be socialising! We could talk about the case! C'mon, babe."

"Angel."

"You don't have to remind me, staring into a face like yours-"

"Okay! Cut the lines, leave me alone. I'll find you." I muttered bitterly.

He grinned then kissed me on the cheek. "Don't forget."

I flushed crimson. "I'm sure you'll remind me."