A/N: So I lied, this bit isn't longer. However, this is not the whole last chapter. Since I'd been dividing up the rest of the chapters by isolated events, I decided that since the last chapter had multiple parts to it, I might as well separate it into multiple chapters. However, they all have the same name, so they are split into Parts 1 through whatever I end it with. I think it's only going to have three parts. Anyway, on with the chapter!
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It was late. The two lawyers had just been kicked out of the small café so that it could close up for the night. One still had a to-go cup (with two sets of lip marks on the rim) clutched in his hand. Godot turned to Phoenix. "Wanna go back to my place for some coffee?"
Phoenix looked at him, puzzled. "Didn't we just ha-?" Phoenix stopped short as the implication of the prosecutor's statement hit him.
Godot smiled at him knowingly. "As I was saying, Trite. My place?"
Phoenix blushed profusely. He'd been thinking about what might happen tonight for hours, but never had he suspected that Godot would go so far as to…Thoughts whirled through Phoenix's head too quickly for him to make any sense of them. All he could manage was a slight nod in reply.
"Then let's make like trees and get the hell out of here," Godot said. He started walking without giving Phoenix a chance to remind him that his simile made absolutely no sense. The defense attorney wouldn't have said anything, anyway. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't realize that the prosecutor had begun to wander off down the street. Almost. The momentary lapse in observation left Phoenix a few steps behind, and he started jogging to catch up.
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