Part Sixty Seven
When George awoke on the Thursday morning, she could hear John moving about downstairs. She lay for a while, trying to persuade her senses in to some sort of order. When he reappeared, he was carrying a cup of tea and followed by Mimi, who immediately jumped on to the bed. George put out a hand and began stroking her.
"She doesn't need any encouragement," He said, handing George the cup of tea as she sat up. She looked very child-like in the early morning sunlight that peeped through the thick curtains. With her hair tousled, and her body only covered by a t-shirt that was clearly too big for her, she looked even more vulnerable than she had done last night. George took a grateful swig of the tea. As both of them were aware of George's almost inability to speak first thing in the morning, they barely exchanged a word. She'd always hated John for being able to be totally coherent at any time of the day or night. As she listened to him take a shower, she drank the rest of her tea and scratched Mimi's ears. She knew she couldn't even think about dealing with the ramifications of last night until her brain had fully woken up. As John emerged wrapped in a towel, George finally dragged herself out of bed. He observed her still extremely pretty legs which descended from the t-shirt like pillars of loveliness. John privately thought she looked enchanting in that t-shirt which barely extended to midthigh and clung to her small, jutting breasts. George walked over to the mirror and stared aghast at her face.
"that's going to look wonderful in court this morning," She said, all the bitterness of last night reasserting itself. He walked over to her and turned her face towards him.
"Concealer or something similar might cover it."
"Well, I don't have any, not here anyway." Whilst George was in the shower, John had an idea. As it was getting on for eight o'clock, he picked up the phone.
"Jo, it's me," He said when she answered.
"this is a nice surprise," She said, in that slightly huskier early morning voice that he found so sexy.
"Please could you do me a favour?"
"John, you never say please, it must be serious." He laughed.
"I do say please, sometimes. On your way in to the office this morning, could you come here first, and bring some concealer or whatever you women use to cover up facial disfigurements you'd rather others didn't see."
"John, you're talking in riddles. Who did you get in to a fight with?"
"Not for me," He said in disgust, "For George." Then, lowering his voice he said, "She turned up here last night after having a row with Lover Boy, looking like she'd gone a couple of rounds with Frank Bruno. I had to let her stay here."
"Give me about an hour, with rush hour traffic."
"You're a star, Jo."
When George appeared downstairs, wearing yesterday's clothes and dragging a brush through her wet hair, she looked nothing like the very together, utterly sophisticated woman he knew. John was seated at the table, eating toast and reading the morning paper. George poured herself a glass of grapefruit juice and peeled an orange.
"I rang Jo," John said, after finishing the article he was reading. "She's going to drop off some concealer for you on her way to work." George put down the segment of orange she was about to eat.
"That's all I need," She said. "Having to be grateful to your girlfriend." John ignored the jibe, knowing that anger and irritation were George's way of hiding how she was really feeling.
"How does it feel?" He asked, gesturing to her face.
"Bloody sore," Was her only comment. A while later there was a knock on the door.
"Mrs. Mills for you, My Lord," Said the man who had witnessed many comings and goings from this particular judge's room. George's immense feeling of insecurity increased a thousand fold when she caught sight of Jo, looking smart, professional and totally unruffled. Sensing the arrival of a friend, Mimi bounded over to stand wagging her tail at Jo's feet. Jo gave George a quick assessing glance, taking in the now dark purple bruise and healing cut under her left eye.
"You should get that looked at," Said Jo as a form of greeting.
"Absolutely not," Said George firmly. "The fewer people who know about this the better." The unspoken affirmation was that George would really rather Jo hadn't had to know about it.
"Oh, and what are you going to say to anyone with a pair of eyes and half a brain?" Asked John, thinking that George must be living in cloud cuckoo land if she thought she could get through the next couple of days without anyone noticing.
"That I walked in to a door," Said George flatly. John threw down the paper in disgust.
"That's the oldest and most overused line in the book, George. You're a barrister, which means you'll be aware of every explanation, every apology he'll use to worm his way back in."
"And you're making me feel like a bloody witness," Threw back George.
"Well, go back to Lover Boy and one day you will be."
"John, just give us a minute," Said Jo quietly, trying to defuse their rapidly spiraling argument.
"No," He said refilling his cup with coffee. "I'm not saying anything she doesn't know herself deep down." Jo looked at him stonily.
"John, just take Mimi out or something, because right now I don't think you're helping the situation." Knowing when he was beaten, John stood up, clipped a lead on to a delighted Mimi, and walked out closing the door none too quietly. Jo dug in her handbag and put a tube of concealer down on the table.
"That should help," She said.
"Thank you," Was George's subdued reply. She moved to stand in front of the sideboard, over which hung an enormous gilt-edged mirror. She began applying the cream to her face, wincing as her fingers came in contact with the bruise.
"I'm amazed," Said George, half sarcastic half meaning it. "You've not asked what happened. That's all John really wanted to know last night."
"Well, I'm not John," Said Jo succinctly. "And I think the rest is obvious. It's also absolutely none of my business." George turned to face her in astonishment, the tube of cream in her left hand, and her right poised in midair to apply some more. Staring at Jo assessingly for a moment she turned back to the mirror.
"Has this happened before?" Asked Jo.
"No," Was George's curt reply, and Jo could almost feel all the barriers going back up again.
"What are you going to do?" Asked Jo gently. That was it for George. She'd almost been courting an excuse to sound off at anyone since Neil had done this, and ironically it was the quiet, levelheaded Jo who made her snap. George weeled round, and the pain in her eyes hit Jo and rooted her to the spot.
"Why is it," She began, the clipped, aristocratic bite more prominent than ever, "That you and John seem to think I have all the answers. I don't have the first idea how to deal with this or what I'm going to do, because funnily enough I've never been in this situation before. You've got absolutely no idea, have you. That bastard, who calls himself the secretary of state for trade, has taken away the one thing I value most, my pride. I've got to go in to court this morning, looking no better than a common whore who's just come off the night shift at King's Cross. That isn't how I usually prefer to defend my clients. He's taken away any shred of dignity I might have had. I've always known Neil had no scruples, but I totally misjudged the situation because not once did I ever think he'd go this far. He gave me this, purely because I couldn't come up with a good reason as to why I hadn't been able to get Merriman and Atkins found not guilty. It had to be you, didn't it. It just had to be you and John who between you managed to first convince a jury they were guilty, and second, send them down for the longest stretch possible. You are the biggest rival I've ever had, in and out of court, and you just had to be there on the one occasion I needed to succeed, and yes, before you so kindly point it out, I know that's the price of sleeping with a cabinet minister. John warned me at the time, and though I'm loathed to admit it, he was right. I suppose you think this is all I deserve." This last thing was said in such a hollow, defeated voice, that Jo immediately forgave any inference that George's black eye was in some way her fault. George had needed to get this out of her system, Jo knew that. As George turned away from her, Jo caught sight of the hitherto unwitnessed Channing tears running unheeded down her face. She fumbled blindly for the nearest chair, and her body seemed to collapse in to it. Jo had never seen George this broken, this defeated, and for a moment she stood stock still, simply watching her. Then, realising that there was at least some practical thing she could do, she went upstairs in search of a box of tissues. Taking brief note of the unmade bed where John and George had clearly slept last night, she picked up the box from the bedside table and returned downstairs.
She put the tissues down in front of George, and took a seat opposite her.
"John thinks this is so cut and dried," Said George, taking some tissues from the box.
"That's because he thinks the distinction between right and wrong should decide everything. Even after all his years of trying to uphold the law, he sometimes fails to see that it doesn't always work like that."
"I told Neil to be out of the house by the time I get home, but even if he is, which I doubt, I can't just move on and forget he ever existed."
"I know," Said Jo gently, lighting a cigarette for George and then one for herself.
"Bet you never thought you'd see me crumble before your eyes, did you," Said George, taking a grateful drag.
"We all do it, George. The secret is not to be afraid of it." George laughed mirthlessly.
"I remember the time John told me I was maladjusted. Oh, I wouldn't worry," She said, observing Jo's slight wince at John's callous remark. "I suspect he had cause to at the time." On hearing the unmistakable sounds of John and Mimi returning, George, realising that she'd inadvertently wiped mascara over her face, grabbed her handbag and Jo's tube of hopeful cover up and fled upstairs to the bathroom.
When John appeared, he took in the box of tissues on the table and George's absence.
"Is she all right?" He asked, removing Mimi's lead.
"No," Replied Jo, stubbing out her cigarette. "Not very."
"I'm going to ban those things from here," He said, gesturing to the ashtray.
"You wouldn't get away with it," Said Jo with a smile. "For a start, you wouldn't see anywhere near enough of me if you did."
"I suppose it's worth the concession," He said, leaning down to kiss her. When they heard George returning they broke apart. George took one look at John and smirked, the first sign of a smile they'd seen all day.
"What?" He said, staring at her. Jo also looked at what had caught George's attention and laughed. "What is wrong with the pair of you?" He asked in exasperation. "Have I got butter on my chin?"
"No," Drawled George. "Lipstick." He grabbed a napkin off the table and furiously scrubbed at his face.
"I'd half a mind to let you go in to court looking like that," Said George.
"that would have made an interesting story in The Evening Standard," Put in Jo. George handed her back the tube of concealer.
"Thank you," George said, her eyes for once looking straight in to Jo's, not something they usually did, and Jo knew the thank you was more for listening and not judging than anything else. As they walked out of the lodgings, Jo left to drive to her office.
"I'll see you later for that ruling," She said.
"Come earlier and have lunch," He suggested. As he watched Jo drive away and George retrieve her papers which she'd fortunately put in the car the night before, knowing that with her dislike of mornings anything could be forgotten, John wondered just what would happen to her. George wasn't very good at being alone, but if she didn't let Lover Boy worm his way back under her skin, that was exactly what she'd be.
Around one o'clock, George had finished talking to her client and was walking towards the exit. She was exhausted, more emotionally than physically. She could have sworn that every member of the jury had looked curiously at her face, wondering just what this particular QC had been up too. But before she could reach the doors that led outside, Neil Haughton, the secretary of state for trade accosted her.
"George," He said, coming over to her. "We need to talk."
"No we don't," Said George perfectly calmly. "I think we said everything there is to say last night." He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, to stop her walking away from him.
"Don't touch me!" She hissed.
"Georgia, darling, I'm sorry," He weadled.
"That's what you'd tell a barrister in cross examination, is it?" She threw back at him.
"George, you're not going to take this to court, are you?" He asked, in a tone that clearly told her he thought this notion was utterly preposterous.
"I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet," She said. "Just look at me. Look at what I had to put up with in court this morning. You did that, nobody else."
"Where did you stay last night?"
"That's absolutely none of your business."
"You stayed here, didn't you?" He asked in disgust. "You stayed with Deed."
"what I do to protect myself in a crisis has nothing whatsoever to do with you." Despite the fury in her tone, she was still managing to stay fairly quiet. But she hadn't noticed the silent, stealthy approach of John. Suddenly, he swung Neil Haughton round and pushed him up against the wall.
"Now, listen to me, Haughton," He said, the anger evident in his still cultured tones. "You do anything like that to George again and I'll have you doing time in the Scrubs. Is that clear?"
"Still fighting her cause, I see," Drawled Neil. "How does Jo Mills feel about that." One of John's hands tightened around Neil's throat.
"John, stop it," Said George, though knowing it was utterly futile. he lifted a fist as if to hit John in the face, and George caught a glint of the signet ring that had given her that cut. But with lightening reflexes, John caught Neil's fist before it could hit him.
"Is that how you believe in sorting everything out that doesn't quite go your way?"
Jo, arriving for her lunch appointment with John, walked up the steps and through the main doors. Taking in the situation and a watchful crowd in an instant, she walked swiftly over to John, grabbed hold of his arm and frog marched him away. He turned on her, his eyes still blazing with fury.
"What the hell did you do that for?" He said.
"I'm trying to stop you from getting in to more trouble than usual," She said.
"He needed teaching a lesson," John protested.
"Not by you," Insisted Jo. "John, this is George's fight, not yours."
"Oh, and like she'll ever do anything about it."
"Even if she doesn't," Continued Jo. "that isn't your decision to make."
"He was hassling her, trying to persuade her to forgive and forget, and she was just going to let him."
"I doubt that very much," Jo said, as they sat down on one of the seats that filled the foyer.
"He should be in a cell," John wouldn't let up.
"Oh, grow up, John," Said Jo, finally losing her patience with him. "He's a cabinet minister, not a sixteen-year-old involved in a drunken brawl. Even if George did pursue this legally, it wouldn't be allowed to get anywhere and you know it."
When George awoke on the Thursday morning, she could hear John moving about downstairs. She lay for a while, trying to persuade her senses in to some sort of order. When he reappeared, he was carrying a cup of tea and followed by Mimi, who immediately jumped on to the bed. George put out a hand and began stroking her.
"She doesn't need any encouragement," He said, handing George the cup of tea as she sat up. She looked very child-like in the early morning sunlight that peeped through the thick curtains. With her hair tousled, and her body only covered by a t-shirt that was clearly too big for her, she looked even more vulnerable than she had done last night. George took a grateful swig of the tea. As both of them were aware of George's almost inability to speak first thing in the morning, they barely exchanged a word. She'd always hated John for being able to be totally coherent at any time of the day or night. As she listened to him take a shower, she drank the rest of her tea and scratched Mimi's ears. She knew she couldn't even think about dealing with the ramifications of last night until her brain had fully woken up. As John emerged wrapped in a towel, George finally dragged herself out of bed. He observed her still extremely pretty legs which descended from the t-shirt like pillars of loveliness. John privately thought she looked enchanting in that t-shirt which barely extended to midthigh and clung to her small, jutting breasts. George walked over to the mirror and stared aghast at her face.
"that's going to look wonderful in court this morning," She said, all the bitterness of last night reasserting itself. He walked over to her and turned her face towards him.
"Concealer or something similar might cover it."
"Well, I don't have any, not here anyway." Whilst George was in the shower, John had an idea. As it was getting on for eight o'clock, he picked up the phone.
"Jo, it's me," He said when she answered.
"this is a nice surprise," She said, in that slightly huskier early morning voice that he found so sexy.
"Please could you do me a favour?"
"John, you never say please, it must be serious." He laughed.
"I do say please, sometimes. On your way in to the office this morning, could you come here first, and bring some concealer or whatever you women use to cover up facial disfigurements you'd rather others didn't see."
"John, you're talking in riddles. Who did you get in to a fight with?"
"Not for me," He said in disgust, "For George." Then, lowering his voice he said, "She turned up here last night after having a row with Lover Boy, looking like she'd gone a couple of rounds with Frank Bruno. I had to let her stay here."
"Give me about an hour, with rush hour traffic."
"You're a star, Jo."
When George appeared downstairs, wearing yesterday's clothes and dragging a brush through her wet hair, she looked nothing like the very together, utterly sophisticated woman he knew. John was seated at the table, eating toast and reading the morning paper. George poured herself a glass of grapefruit juice and peeled an orange.
"I rang Jo," John said, after finishing the article he was reading. "She's going to drop off some concealer for you on her way to work." George put down the segment of orange she was about to eat.
"That's all I need," She said. "Having to be grateful to your girlfriend." John ignored the jibe, knowing that anger and irritation were George's way of hiding how she was really feeling.
"How does it feel?" He asked, gesturing to her face.
"Bloody sore," Was her only comment. A while later there was a knock on the door.
"Mrs. Mills for you, My Lord," Said the man who had witnessed many comings and goings from this particular judge's room. George's immense feeling of insecurity increased a thousand fold when she caught sight of Jo, looking smart, professional and totally unruffled. Sensing the arrival of a friend, Mimi bounded over to stand wagging her tail at Jo's feet. Jo gave George a quick assessing glance, taking in the now dark purple bruise and healing cut under her left eye.
"You should get that looked at," Said Jo as a form of greeting.
"Absolutely not," Said George firmly. "The fewer people who know about this the better." The unspoken affirmation was that George would really rather Jo hadn't had to know about it.
"Oh, and what are you going to say to anyone with a pair of eyes and half a brain?" Asked John, thinking that George must be living in cloud cuckoo land if she thought she could get through the next couple of days without anyone noticing.
"That I walked in to a door," Said George flatly. John threw down the paper in disgust.
"That's the oldest and most overused line in the book, George. You're a barrister, which means you'll be aware of every explanation, every apology he'll use to worm his way back in."
"And you're making me feel like a bloody witness," Threw back George.
"Well, go back to Lover Boy and one day you will be."
"John, just give us a minute," Said Jo quietly, trying to defuse their rapidly spiraling argument.
"No," He said refilling his cup with coffee. "I'm not saying anything she doesn't know herself deep down." Jo looked at him stonily.
"John, just take Mimi out or something, because right now I don't think you're helping the situation." Knowing when he was beaten, John stood up, clipped a lead on to a delighted Mimi, and walked out closing the door none too quietly. Jo dug in her handbag and put a tube of concealer down on the table.
"That should help," She said.
"Thank you," Was George's subdued reply. She moved to stand in front of the sideboard, over which hung an enormous gilt-edged mirror. She began applying the cream to her face, wincing as her fingers came in contact with the bruise.
"I'm amazed," Said George, half sarcastic half meaning it. "You've not asked what happened. That's all John really wanted to know last night."
"Well, I'm not John," Said Jo succinctly. "And I think the rest is obvious. It's also absolutely none of my business." George turned to face her in astonishment, the tube of cream in her left hand, and her right poised in midair to apply some more. Staring at Jo assessingly for a moment she turned back to the mirror.
"Has this happened before?" Asked Jo.
"No," Was George's curt reply, and Jo could almost feel all the barriers going back up again.
"What are you going to do?" Asked Jo gently. That was it for George. She'd almost been courting an excuse to sound off at anyone since Neil had done this, and ironically it was the quiet, levelheaded Jo who made her snap. George weeled round, and the pain in her eyes hit Jo and rooted her to the spot.
"Why is it," She began, the clipped, aristocratic bite more prominent than ever, "That you and John seem to think I have all the answers. I don't have the first idea how to deal with this or what I'm going to do, because funnily enough I've never been in this situation before. You've got absolutely no idea, have you. That bastard, who calls himself the secretary of state for trade, has taken away the one thing I value most, my pride. I've got to go in to court this morning, looking no better than a common whore who's just come off the night shift at King's Cross. That isn't how I usually prefer to defend my clients. He's taken away any shred of dignity I might have had. I've always known Neil had no scruples, but I totally misjudged the situation because not once did I ever think he'd go this far. He gave me this, purely because I couldn't come up with a good reason as to why I hadn't been able to get Merriman and Atkins found not guilty. It had to be you, didn't it. It just had to be you and John who between you managed to first convince a jury they were guilty, and second, send them down for the longest stretch possible. You are the biggest rival I've ever had, in and out of court, and you just had to be there on the one occasion I needed to succeed, and yes, before you so kindly point it out, I know that's the price of sleeping with a cabinet minister. John warned me at the time, and though I'm loathed to admit it, he was right. I suppose you think this is all I deserve." This last thing was said in such a hollow, defeated voice, that Jo immediately forgave any inference that George's black eye was in some way her fault. George had needed to get this out of her system, Jo knew that. As George turned away from her, Jo caught sight of the hitherto unwitnessed Channing tears running unheeded down her face. She fumbled blindly for the nearest chair, and her body seemed to collapse in to it. Jo had never seen George this broken, this defeated, and for a moment she stood stock still, simply watching her. Then, realising that there was at least some practical thing she could do, she went upstairs in search of a box of tissues. Taking brief note of the unmade bed where John and George had clearly slept last night, she picked up the box from the bedside table and returned downstairs.
She put the tissues down in front of George, and took a seat opposite her.
"John thinks this is so cut and dried," Said George, taking some tissues from the box.
"That's because he thinks the distinction between right and wrong should decide everything. Even after all his years of trying to uphold the law, he sometimes fails to see that it doesn't always work like that."
"I told Neil to be out of the house by the time I get home, but even if he is, which I doubt, I can't just move on and forget he ever existed."
"I know," Said Jo gently, lighting a cigarette for George and then one for herself.
"Bet you never thought you'd see me crumble before your eyes, did you," Said George, taking a grateful drag.
"We all do it, George. The secret is not to be afraid of it." George laughed mirthlessly.
"I remember the time John told me I was maladjusted. Oh, I wouldn't worry," She said, observing Jo's slight wince at John's callous remark. "I suspect he had cause to at the time." On hearing the unmistakable sounds of John and Mimi returning, George, realising that she'd inadvertently wiped mascara over her face, grabbed her handbag and Jo's tube of hopeful cover up and fled upstairs to the bathroom.
When John appeared, he took in the box of tissues on the table and George's absence.
"Is she all right?" He asked, removing Mimi's lead.
"No," Replied Jo, stubbing out her cigarette. "Not very."
"I'm going to ban those things from here," He said, gesturing to the ashtray.
"You wouldn't get away with it," Said Jo with a smile. "For a start, you wouldn't see anywhere near enough of me if you did."
"I suppose it's worth the concession," He said, leaning down to kiss her. When they heard George returning they broke apart. George took one look at John and smirked, the first sign of a smile they'd seen all day.
"What?" He said, staring at her. Jo also looked at what had caught George's attention and laughed. "What is wrong with the pair of you?" He asked in exasperation. "Have I got butter on my chin?"
"No," Drawled George. "Lipstick." He grabbed a napkin off the table and furiously scrubbed at his face.
"I'd half a mind to let you go in to court looking like that," Said George.
"that would have made an interesting story in The Evening Standard," Put in Jo. George handed her back the tube of concealer.
"Thank you," George said, her eyes for once looking straight in to Jo's, not something they usually did, and Jo knew the thank you was more for listening and not judging than anything else. As they walked out of the lodgings, Jo left to drive to her office.
"I'll see you later for that ruling," She said.
"Come earlier and have lunch," He suggested. As he watched Jo drive away and George retrieve her papers which she'd fortunately put in the car the night before, knowing that with her dislike of mornings anything could be forgotten, John wondered just what would happen to her. George wasn't very good at being alone, but if she didn't let Lover Boy worm his way back under her skin, that was exactly what she'd be.
Around one o'clock, George had finished talking to her client and was walking towards the exit. She was exhausted, more emotionally than physically. She could have sworn that every member of the jury had looked curiously at her face, wondering just what this particular QC had been up too. But before she could reach the doors that led outside, Neil Haughton, the secretary of state for trade accosted her.
"George," He said, coming over to her. "We need to talk."
"No we don't," Said George perfectly calmly. "I think we said everything there is to say last night." He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, to stop her walking away from him.
"Don't touch me!" She hissed.
"Georgia, darling, I'm sorry," He weadled.
"That's what you'd tell a barrister in cross examination, is it?" She threw back at him.
"George, you're not going to take this to court, are you?" He asked, in a tone that clearly told her he thought this notion was utterly preposterous.
"I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet," She said. "Just look at me. Look at what I had to put up with in court this morning. You did that, nobody else."
"Where did you stay last night?"
"That's absolutely none of your business."
"You stayed here, didn't you?" He asked in disgust. "You stayed with Deed."
"what I do to protect myself in a crisis has nothing whatsoever to do with you." Despite the fury in her tone, she was still managing to stay fairly quiet. But she hadn't noticed the silent, stealthy approach of John. Suddenly, he swung Neil Haughton round and pushed him up against the wall.
"Now, listen to me, Haughton," He said, the anger evident in his still cultured tones. "You do anything like that to George again and I'll have you doing time in the Scrubs. Is that clear?"
"Still fighting her cause, I see," Drawled Neil. "How does Jo Mills feel about that." One of John's hands tightened around Neil's throat.
"John, stop it," Said George, though knowing it was utterly futile. he lifted a fist as if to hit John in the face, and George caught a glint of the signet ring that had given her that cut. But with lightening reflexes, John caught Neil's fist before it could hit him.
"Is that how you believe in sorting everything out that doesn't quite go your way?"
Jo, arriving for her lunch appointment with John, walked up the steps and through the main doors. Taking in the situation and a watchful crowd in an instant, she walked swiftly over to John, grabbed hold of his arm and frog marched him away. He turned on her, his eyes still blazing with fury.
"What the hell did you do that for?" He said.
"I'm trying to stop you from getting in to more trouble than usual," She said.
"He needed teaching a lesson," John protested.
"Not by you," Insisted Jo. "John, this is George's fight, not yours."
"Oh, and like she'll ever do anything about it."
"Even if she doesn't," Continued Jo. "that isn't your decision to make."
"He was hassling her, trying to persuade her to forgive and forget, and she was just going to let him."
"I doubt that very much," Jo said, as they sat down on one of the seats that filled the foyer.
"He should be in a cell," John wouldn't let up.
"Oh, grow up, John," Said Jo, finally losing her patience with him. "He's a cabinet minister, not a sixteen-year-old involved in a drunken brawl. Even if George did pursue this legally, it wouldn't be allowed to get anywhere and you know it."