Constance laughed. "This is not an interrogation room. All you did just now is flip yourself off. And don't get any fancy ideas during the hearing, either. No talking in the courtroom unless asked to speak. And also. . ." She grinned. "Try not to flip off the judge. Show some respect."
He stepped back to the table and set down the razor. Then he leaned toward her and shook his head slowly. "Respect? The system doesn't respect me. Look, I know when I'm screwed. You may be on my side, but it doesn't seem like you can help me much. All we're doing here is fighting little skirmishes when we both know the war's been lost." He grunted loudly.
She grunted back. "We are not fighting pointless skirmishes! Don't give up on me." Some dream man this guy turned out to be. He pushed back, every chance he got, rebelling against the system. A system she had been trained to navigate. She couldn't blame him, but he had to let her do her job.
Constance wanted to cry for him, to hug him, to protect him. She got up slowly and stepped nearer. From this close, she could see a corner of black ink peeking out on the right side of his collar.
Yes, a tattoo. That's what she was looking for. She wanted to see it so badly. What if it was exactly like in her dream? That would be the freakiest thing she could imagine.
Constance moved in to see more of his tattoo. She poked her finger onto his chest. "Are you going to change your shirt, or are you embarrassed to show me your tattoo?"
Nick looked down at his rumpled shirt. "You noticed. Maybe I should just show up in court without a shirt. Let my awesome tattoo defend me."
Constance mimicked him, still trying to goad him into taking his shirt off. "Oh, your 'awesome tattoo.' Please! Spare me, and the court, from your tattoo." She quietly fired her best shot at him. "Probably some stupid dragon."
His eyes widened. "You know an awful lot about me. But you obviously don't know anything about my tattoo. There's nothing stupid about it."
Unbelievable. He does have a dragon tattoo. Her heart started to do a little dance. She let it do its dance while she forced herself to stay outwardly calm. This might be a very different dragon from the one she'd dreamed of. But what if it was the same? Was such a thing possible? Was any of this really possible?
She continued to push her luck. "Oh, so it is a dragon. I figured. Does it look like you? Does it have blue eyes?"