Liberty, or?
Clean. Simple. Solved.
If White just let me handle all of the Club's affairs, imagine how smooth things would be?
The gavel sounds, echoing once, twice, three times through the courtroom - "Dismissed," Judge Grimes echoes. "Misters Adel and Bahir al-Razi, you are free to go." Indeed, the twins' lawyers are already turning to congratulate them, and in the rear of the courtroom Shaw is smirking to himself as he leans against the back wall. He turns to Emma.
"See?" the Black King murmurs. "You just need to have a little faith."
Emma glances up at the towering Shaw and twitches her skirt to cover her knee before uncrossing her legs and standing. "Among other things," she allows coolly as she tucks a handbag under her arm and steps out into the aisle just in front of him. She waits for the congratulations to play themselves out up front.
If the twins do not greet their lawyers' words with anything like visible cheer, the slow seep of relief lightens telepathic senses. Their thanks are brief and perfunctory, delivered by Adel on behalf of the whole, to lawyers and court and all.
Bahir eases away first, still unsteady. His movements have a certain caution to them as he collects paperwork to look over their new and improved visas and identification cards. His expression twitches grimly before smoothing out, and he turns to look over the sparse courtroom to two figures in the back. Both White and Black get a nod.
When Adel finally disentangles himself, taking a little longer to speak with the lawyers (kin in profession, or would-be profession), his movements are far more certain than Bahir's. He moves with a certain arrogant snappiness. Laying claim to his brother's arm, he grins at Emma. << Next time, let's just vacation within the United States. >>
"Gentlemen," Shaw says in a bass rumble, extending his hand. "Congratulations to you both." His eyes twinkle with amusement. "We shouldn't be wasting time punishing people for doing the right thing and trying to register."
<< Next time, we'll fly private, >> Emma answers her Bishop, nodding royal acknowledgement back at his twin. She lifts her elbow and looks down at the hand that snakes past her from behind, then looks over her shoulder at Sebastian, brow lifted. She refuses to budge.
"Thank you," Adel answers, full of effusive cheer and glittering brightly as he meets Shaw's congratulations with courtesy. "Your support has been appreciated. It is a shame. I suspect that we were targeted because of our Middle Eastern heritage, and it is a tragedy that people have yet to move past that. How will we ever deal with the terrible problem of mutants?" He talks and talks, no real substance to it; the main focus of his attention is on Emma, and he shakes loose the last remnant of detention to move to the other side of the court join her. << Yes, please. Then you can have as large a bathroom as you like. >>
Bahir's matching, "Thank you," is quieter, but no less heartfelt. He does not twinkle, nor does he glitter: he gleams, dark and sullen, cranky looks tossed to those playing prosecution in this affair. "Amazing what a little misfiled paperwork leads to."
"Come, then," Sebastian Shaw murmurs urbanely over Emma's shoulder, turning for the door. "The driver has a stretch outside - a little ostentatious, to be sure, but the only place where we can comfortably talk." He smiles. "Let's just put all this unfortunate business behind us - I'm confident," he says with a note of meanness, "that the Federal Government regrets its mistake even now."
Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the twins, tacking on to Bahir's comment in dark sweetness, "Yes. Isn't it? Terrible thing, disorganization." She pivots on the ball of her foot and moves for the door, pinching the edge of Sebastian's sleeve as she passes him to tug him along.
"A little," comes Adel's agreements, cheerful and approving. "Which makes it just the thing." He trails after Emma, and Bahir trails after him, and Shaw is somewhere in there -- but it isn't like we need a map to keep track of how we go down a hallway. Adel's thoughts sound in both minds: familiar closeness to Emma's, but reserved as he touches Shaw. << What sort of favors did you have to pull? Nothing to expensive, I hope. Thank for the efforts. >>
Shaw shrugs as he walks genially in the direction of the exit, his mind murmuring quiet assent. << No, >> he thinks. << We take care of our own, Mr. al-Razi - and rigging an immigration court is really very small. >>
Amid shuffling and ordering, the group exit the courtroom into noise and activity of the New York City Courthouse hallway. << You are ours, >> she says simply, echoing Shaw's sentiment with a an empathic caress, shared between the twins, though Adel breaks the wave for his brother. Her emotions turn fanged, and envelope Shaw as well. << We will just have to ensure that the government is too busy elsewhere to continue harassing us and ours. >>
<< Be glad to help there, >> Adel says, an echo of his brother's thoughts doubling the phantom not-sound in monarchs' minds. << Very glad. >>
It does not necessarily take a telepath to read Bahir's ease in the claim and protection of Emma and Shaw: it shows in his stance, as well, slight knots untying that he steps more easily. "God," he murmurs under his breath. << It will be good to get back to work. >>
Ahead, a man in black is holding open the door to a limousine. Shaw pauses, murmuring to Emma as he does so. "After you," he says with an incline of his head. "I think," he remarks lightly, "that we will all be quite busy in the days and months ahead."
If White just let me handle all of the Club's affairs, imagine how smooth things would be?
The gavel sounds, echoing once, twice, three times through the courtroom - "Dismissed," Judge Grimes echoes. "Misters Adel and Bahir al-Razi, you are free to go." Indeed, the twins' lawyers are already turning to congratulate them, and in the rear of the courtroom Shaw is smirking to himself as he leans against the back wall. He turns to Emma.
"See?" the Black King murmurs. "You just need to have a little faith."
Emma glances up at the towering Shaw and twitches her skirt to cover her knee before uncrossing her legs and standing. "Among other things," she allows coolly as she tucks a handbag under her arm and steps out into the aisle just in front of him. She waits for the congratulations to play themselves out up front.
If the twins do not greet their lawyers' words with anything like visible cheer, the slow seep of relief lightens telepathic senses. Their thanks are brief and perfunctory, delivered by Adel on behalf of the whole, to lawyers and court and all.
Bahir eases away first, still unsteady. His movements have a certain caution to them as he collects paperwork to look over their new and improved visas and identification cards. His expression twitches grimly before smoothing out, and he turns to look over the sparse courtroom to two figures in the back. Both White and Black get a nod.
When Adel finally disentangles himself, taking a little longer to speak with the lawyers (kin in profession, or would-be profession), his movements are far more certain than Bahir's. He moves with a certain arrogant snappiness. Laying claim to his brother's arm, he grins at Emma. << Next time, let's just vacation within the United States. >>
"Gentlemen," Shaw says in a bass rumble, extending his hand. "Congratulations to you both." His eyes twinkle with amusement. "We shouldn't be wasting time punishing people for doing the right thing and trying to register."
<< Next time, we'll fly private, >> Emma answers her Bishop, nodding royal acknowledgement back at his twin. She lifts her elbow and looks down at the hand that snakes past her from behind, then looks over her shoulder at Sebastian, brow lifted. She refuses to budge.
"Thank you," Adel answers, full of effusive cheer and glittering brightly as he meets Shaw's congratulations with courtesy. "Your support has been appreciated. It is a shame. I suspect that we were targeted because of our Middle Eastern heritage, and it is a tragedy that people have yet to move past that. How will we ever deal with the terrible problem of mutants?" He talks and talks, no real substance to it; the main focus of his attention is on Emma, and he shakes loose the last remnant of detention to move to the other side of the court join her. << Yes, please. Then you can have as large a bathroom as you like. >>
Bahir's matching, "Thank you," is quieter, but no less heartfelt. He does not twinkle, nor does he glitter: he gleams, dark and sullen, cranky looks tossed to those playing prosecution in this affair. "Amazing what a little misfiled paperwork leads to."
"Come, then," Sebastian Shaw murmurs urbanely over Emma's shoulder, turning for the door. "The driver has a stretch outside - a little ostentatious, to be sure, but the only place where we can comfortably talk." He smiles. "Let's just put all this unfortunate business behind us - I'm confident," he says with a note of meanness, "that the Federal Government regrets its mistake even now."
Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the twins, tacking on to Bahir's comment in dark sweetness, "Yes. Isn't it? Terrible thing, disorganization." She pivots on the ball of her foot and moves for the door, pinching the edge of Sebastian's sleeve as she passes him to tug him along.
"A little," comes Adel's agreements, cheerful and approving. "Which makes it just the thing." He trails after Emma, and Bahir trails after him, and Shaw is somewhere in there -- but it isn't like we need a map to keep track of how we go down a hallway. Adel's thoughts sound in both minds: familiar closeness to Emma's, but reserved as he touches Shaw. << What sort of favors did you have to pull? Nothing to expensive, I hope. Thank for the efforts. >>
Shaw shrugs as he walks genially in the direction of the exit, his mind murmuring quiet assent. << No, >> he thinks. << We take care of our own, Mr. al-Razi - and rigging an immigration court is really very small. >>
Amid shuffling and ordering, the group exit the courtroom into noise and activity of the New York City Courthouse hallway. << You are ours, >> she says simply, echoing Shaw's sentiment with a an empathic caress, shared between the twins, though Adel breaks the wave for his brother. Her emotions turn fanged, and envelope Shaw as well. << We will just have to ensure that the government is too busy elsewhere to continue harassing us and ours. >>
<< Be glad to help there, >> Adel says, an echo of his brother's thoughts doubling the phantom not-sound in monarchs' minds. << Very glad. >>
It does not necessarily take a telepath to read Bahir's ease in the claim and protection of Emma and Shaw: it shows in his stance, as well, slight knots untying that he steps more easily. "God," he murmurs under his breath. << It will be good to get back to work. >>
Ahead, a man in black is holding open the door to a limousine. Shaw pauses, murmuring to Emma as he does so. "After you," he says with an incline of his head. "I think," he remarks lightly, "that we will all be quite busy in the days and months ahead."