#jack 001.

Nolan may have been the sole proprietor of his own law practice, but that definitely didn't mean he acted alone. Throughout his career he'd amassed an impressive rolodex of contacts, people he could trust to take care of certain things that would ultimately nudged the pendulum in his clients' favor by whatever means necessary. Not that he wasn’t willing to get his hands dirty himself--hell, Nolan had grown up with them buried in the dirt, boots on the ground, clawing his way out of a poverty-pit and into the big leagues, but even he could only be in so many places at once. As much as he'd prefer to keep as many eyes and ears of his line of work as he could, it simply wasn't possible to do what he did without a little help -- which is where Jack came in.

“Christmas came early this year.” Nolan’s voice cut through the quiet as he approached the ring, waving a thick white envelope stuffed with cash. He'd made sure to come by far after closing hours, reassured by the fact that there'd been only a single car in the parking lot the time he'd pulled in.

“For your troubles,” he continued, tossing the envelope into the ring, “and the ones still on the way. My phone’s been ringin’ off the hook -- everyone's paranoid, which means you'll be hearing from me soon enough.” He hopped up on the side, forearms draping over the ropes, watchful, but easy. “Gotta say, though,” he added, his lips curling into a roguish smirk, “even with all the Texas Chainsaw Massacre shit that went down at the gala, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t see you there. Bet you’d pull off an evening gown real nice.”