227: Book recommendation

[smecker]

Attached to a wrapped package sent to the respected law firm of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt, care of Alan Shore:

Shore, I'd like you to have a copy of this.

I think you'll appreciate the stark, but evocative, prose. To say nothing of the quality of the illustrations.

Sincerely,
Paul Smecker

Link is NSFW, and word count obviously doesn't

Comments

[altitudeandwine]

*throaty laugh!snigger*

[smecker]

:P

[alan_shore]

The FBI's Boston field office is a mere five-minute drive from the respected law firm of Crane, Poole & Schmidt. Just as Alan expects, it's a dull, drab building whose dull, drab corridors are roamed by men (mostly) in dull, drab suits.

It should serve his purposes admirably.

"Alan Shore to see Paul Smecker," he says to reception, and receives a once-over and a snort for his troubles. "Tell him I'm here to turn myself in."

[smecker]

Mail fraud. Mail fraud. Why not give him fucking KP and have done with it, Paul Smecker thinks sourly as the desk printer spits out paper after paper. The sound of the printer is dulled by the Bach on his headphones, but the concerto playing is not quite loud enough to override the telephone's ring.

"Smecker."

"There's an Alan Shore in the lobby to see you?"

Such is Paul's distaste for his current chore that this is a cause for rejoicing. "Jesus. Send him on in, then."

He hangs up and returns to printing endless pages of relevant documents, going so far as to remove his headphones in order to answer the eventual knock on his office's door with a, "Come in, Shore.

"And congrats on navigating the hallways without suffering a lethal overdose of beige," he adds as the door swings open.

[alan_shore]

"So this is where it all happens," Alan says by way of greeting, stepping into the office. His gaze wanders the room a moment before resting admiringly on the ceiling. "Cases bungled, rights trampled." He gives an exaggerated sniff, smiles like a connoisseur who's caught a whiff of an exceptionally fine wine. "The scent of toner in the air."

[smecker]

"And self-righteousness only tolerated--" Paul's grabbing the printer's output and shuffling the papers into a neater pile-- "when it's funded by the American taxpayer. So you may check yours at the door."

He sets the stack of paper down on top of a file cabinet then laces his fingers together behind his head and leans back in his chair, the better to regard one Alan Shore.

"And what brings you by my little corner of this great bastion of civil obedience? It you're here for the Marilyn Monroe sex tape, the Bureau's stated position is that we don't have it, never have had it, and anyone who says otherwise is a dirty little liar."