amicustenebris | PSL - for Saul Goodman, set Post-BCS, Pre-BB

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PSL - for Saul Goodman, set Post-BCS, Pre-BB

In all fairness to Saul Goodman, it would not have been uncharitable when he found himself stopped in the middle of the road, staring down what appeared to be the body that just ricocheted off his windshield, and first thinking, even kind of hoping he was being scammed. It wouldn't be the first time, and New Mexico was hardly suffering a shortage of people stupid enough to try it, clearly. The highbeams caught the slow patter of the first rain in what felt like months, picking each little droplet out of the dark as though they did not exist at all until the light touched them. Then the twitch of a set of fingers, shivering in the direction of a cane that had clattered to the ground just out of reach. A glint of the ring on one of his fingers, not a diamond but some manner of precious stone that seemed to glow with inner luminosity.

It was fully nighttime even without the cloud cover, and the stranger really did seem to come out of nowhere. He might as well have not been there at all the instant before he was hit.

From the looks of him once he was near enough to take it in, not the sort that would usually try a scam. Well-to-do, in his forties at the youngest. The curtain of his shoulder-length hair stuck in wet strings to the side of his face. Nice (though now scuffed) shoes. The suit was fine and black, maybe a little warm for this far south and this time of year. The cane was similarly fancy, with a silver handle. Eyes that were awake and expressive but wide and gave too much the impression of an injured animal.

The kinda view that left a guy wishing it was just a punk kid trying to make an easy buck.

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"Not really. Honestly, the biggest competitor you'll find is HHM but if you're good like me, you have nothing to worry about." Saul says giving a wink to the other man.

While the man was generally very good at reading people, he had something of a blind spot when it came to any gestures toward himself that were exceedingly friendly -- missing them entirely was better than assuming the worst about them, one could suppose. So Gold had an instant where he went blank at the wink, broke eye contact, then immediately recovered.

"I'll have to bear that in mind," he said smoothly. "Though if I do what I'm paid to do, I don't tend to see the inside of a courtroom. So debatable who I'll ultimately run into."

“Hey lucky you! Court can be a pain in the ass. I can’t tell you how many cases the mirror in the bathroom heard cause Im trying to work everything out before I get in there.” This was true. Saul often gave himself pep talks in the bathroom before the court. Sometimes a bailiff would need to come and remind him it’s time for the hearing.

"More people do that than most think, or so I'm told." It was said with good humor, at least. Gold would have found it less respectable if he tried to boast an effortless expertise. "A good artist takes time to practice their craft, after all."

"That's what I'm saying! How in the hell can I just waltz out there without time to practice. I'd look like a stammering idiot, that's what would happen. Between you and me, I am rather shy." He says with a small chuckle. He knows he doesn't seem like a shy person, especially considering he talks all the time but he can be anxious without proper time to prepare himself.

"Oh, I have trouble believing that."

Did he read that as false modesty? Not really. He understood the sentiment even if no one would ever mistake him for so warm a person, himself.

But he meant it as a compliment, at least.

"Heh! See! I knew I couldn't fool you. Regardless, bathroom pep talks are the best and I'll defend them tooth and nail. They got me through my career." He says with a small chuckle to himself really. It's out of habit is all

"We said something of small talk earlier, and I fear I'm veering in that direction, Mister Goodman." A hint of a smile, but his eyes cut away. "You have that invoice for me?"

"Ah! Yes! Here." He says, bending down to retrieve the paper from his desk drawer and setting it on his desk for the man.
"Not too bad, the guy I go to is relatively cheap."

"Small comforts, I'm sure." He takes it up to examine the damage but doesn't appear bothered by it. It doesn't quite add up: guy had no ID on him when found, but he seems to have gotten settled well enough just the same. "I will have have this taken care of today."

“Okay! I mean, you don’t have to really. If you can’t tell, business is pretty good here and I can afford it. I did hit you. You don’t owe me anything”he tried to assure.
The man seems determined to pay Saul back but Saul really didn’t need it.

As far as Gold was concerned, even a possible debt is not really something he wants to leave unhandled. But he's always careful with his words. He is not going to say specifically that he is at fault -- and not just because that would be impossible to explain. "In most circumstances, it's an unusual look for legal counsel to not wish to be paid, Mister Goodman."

Saul looked a bit surprised at this remark for a moment before he chuckled. He loved a good lawyer joke where he could get one. His brother, Chuck, loathed them but Saul was delighted by them. The law was never a particularly serious matter to him.

"You do make a good point there." He says, wagging a finger at Gold in a playful "gotcha" sort of way

"I do try." Whether it is meant to sound noncommittal or merely humble might be unclear. Gold does his best to be careful with his words. But being around someone who doesn't appear to dislike his company and is so outwardly comfortable in their own skin does take away some of the edges that are usually there, like armor. But he also knows where he is. "And understanding that a working lawyer very rarely has a light itinerary, I do not wish to take up too much of your time."

"Oh! I mean, yeah I can get busy. Oddly enough, today is rather quiet so don't worry about that." Saul says, waving his hands up dismissively. He didn't think Franchesca had a meeting for him today. He was going to catch up on filing and look over some of his current cases but there wasn't too much of a rush in going back to that

Gold is very aware that the longer he remains somewhere that any business is already concluded as much as it can be, the greater his chances of wearing out his welcome. But whether it is small talk for the sake of small talk, or genuine interest, he feels himself wanting to keep it on even if he's uncertain how to. But that's a tricky impulse. "You are being polite." But then he is too. "This always feels like the sort of setting where one must be formal regardless of whether it is taking you in circles or not. But it does not hurt to know knowledgeable people when you are in a new place, or to get to know them better. If you don't mind my asking, where do you go to unwind?"

"Ah, well, home. Heh! Although there are a few good bars around town if that's what you mean. They can be a bit crowded though but are great if you like people." Saul says. He does like people. They make him money, after all, and bars can bring him new clients. He assumed that's what this gentleman meant by "unwinding"

He can't quite read that with confidence and takes it to mean he may have tried a little too hard. Pull back, recover, get away before you make it more awkward for yourself. "I don't disagree with your first answer," he admits, gaze cutting down to the floor. Because no, he doesn't like people very much. Certain ones, yes. But as a whole? It gets a bit noisy. But that's hardly the sort of thing you offer up when you're trying to be -- well, not necessarily charming, but tolerable to be around.

"Well, my door is pretty much open. Just let me know when so I can clean up a bit." He says. Yes, clean up and make sure he didn't have any "guests" over. A bachelor over 50 has to do what he has to do, right?

The nature of his mistake is immediate as soon as Goodman replies, and Gold has enough control over his facial features not to look completely horrified at himself. "No, I wasn't inviting myself over --" He bites off the end of that sentence, and sighs. "When business is no longer on the table, I'm a touch rubbish at holding a normal conversation, clearly."

Edited (tense x.x) 2023-11-08 01:28 (UTC)

"Heh! Don't worry about it. I honestly wouldn't have minded. I have a big ass house and no one to share it with, friends are a nice thing to have but difficult to keep apparently." Saul says with a slight nervous chuckle. Most of his friends were dead or simply left.

"True of many important things, really." Too sad a thought to tie into that, things perhaps he would rather not think about, but the sentiment is relatable. "What say we split the difference, something somewhere between the noise of a bar and coming into more personal spaces? From a local to someone very new: Where are the best places to eat?"

“Another easy answer! Let’s try the hot dog place down the road from here. Not many people go there but, for a hot dog place, it’s really classy if you ask me.” He says with confidence. He took Kim there when she was still with him..

"I have never partaken, really." But my grandson insisted on trying one when we visited New York. He doesn't say that part out loud but he tries to carry some of that more positive note forward. "But there is a first time for everything."

“Sure is! Hey, don’t worry, they’re better than they sound and a real comfort food for many!” He says with a grin and a wink. Sure, hotdogs don’t get a good rep all the time but Saul Goodman will, and has, defended worst for less

Re: A Week Later

amicustenebris - 2023-12-01 00:30 (UTC) - Expand

Re: A Week Later

its_all_good_man - 2023-12-01 00:40 (UTC) - Expand

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