#nolanfitz

"So this is where all those half-arsed defenses come from." Harvey observes, by way of greeting. His perfectly pressed, commissioner's uniform exchanged for a well done suit. Dressing down? Not on his life. Everything Harvey did was an exercise in control, in signaling an image. And even this, now? A display of strength, as he shows up to Nolan's office without an appointment or forewarning. Then again, was it entirely unfamiliar? Almost every night, they speak in hushed tones. Only this time, it's in person.

"You mind?" He manages to ask, before taking up one of the seats facing his desk. He regards the man, one of many enemies of his profession. Except, there's a twinkle as he asks; "It's not as if anyone's searching out that old mug of yours." A taunt, said as he crosses a leg over his knee. "Unless you count your last three clients." All brought to Fitzpatrick Law after Harvey's last press statement, condemning Nolan's shady defense strategies.

A sly smirk had made its way onto her lips, one mostly concealed by her seemingly neutral expression. Anyone who knew her well enough would have seen through the pretense of neutrality while the world around was - by all accounts - on fire. Or rather a complicated part of Los Angeles and all it stood for underneath the surface.

Criminal defense attorneys were something that Diego and his people didn't need if Linnea did her job right, but that didn't mean they weren't a necessary evil. Beyond that, they could possibly be a boon if Nolan didn't take his vow of attorney client privilege too seriously. While talking with Nolan was enough to give anyone a headache, Diego found that it was easier if it happened post work out and Diego wiped at his face with a towel as he watched Nolan, waiting a beat before throwing a bottle of water at his head, his nose, with perfect accuracy. "How loyal are you feeling today, Nolan?"