Starter for @milesedgeworthwhile
Well. The trial had at least gone well. Payne had not put up much a fight, as he tended to not despite his bluster - so that was a positive. Still, the uplifted feeling Phoenix had as he had made his way out of the Defendant’s Lobby dwindled rather considerably once he set foot outside of the courthouse and into the drizzly, sticky, humid rain. It didn’t often rain in Los Angeles, but when it did, it always was unpleasant and humid, rather than light and refreshing. He would have ridden his bicycle as usual, but the chain and front rim had needed some repair work, so it was in the shop. He supposed he could have also taken the bus! It was only a few blocks! But it seemed a waste of three dollars just to go one mile. His client’s payment wouldn’t clear his bank account for another day or two, so until then, he was hoofing it. In the rain. It had been sunny that morning, so he hadn’t actually gone out with an umbrella, and as he didn’t have a fancy iPhone or Android or whatever with a weather app, he’d not even bothered to check. Sunshine in Los Angeles was ubiquitous, after all! But no. No, the weather saw fit to quite literally rain on his one man parade. Irritated and increasingly soaked to the bone. Phoenix shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched somewhat. Here and there, he would pause to duck under an awning, hoping that perhaps he might have ended up lucky and the rain would have slowed, but no. In fact, he was certain that it was raining even harder now - as if it was trying to deter him from getting to his destination. Come on. Can’t I have just this one thing? One nice thing! He attempted to wipe his face off with his hand, and pushed back the languishing strands of black hair that clung in his eyes and wilted in his spikes in the back, but it was clearly not having it. It looked like he was going to have to attempt to drip dry at his office while he did his filing, and pray the rain slowed before it was time to catch the evening bus home. Taking a breath, he stepped back out onto the sidewalk, watching as people ducked away, under newspapers, or hurried along with umbrellas like actually well prepared people. He tried to focus on the positive! His client, Bertha DeBleus, had been a club musician caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, a simple case of mistaken identity, and he’d been able prove it so. That was a positive! A warm rivulet of rain trickled under his collar, and soaked into his undershirt. Just another half mile. You can do this!
