Sitting at the receptionist desk with Mom at the law firm she works at. Legal Legends. The name is kind of funny. Daphne, one of the new receptionists has already introduced herself and offered me a drink, while I help the both of them take calls and set up appointments. I am waiting for Cassandra to get done with an appointment with one of her potential clients.

“He’s such a diligent worker, Linda,” Daphne is making small talk, while I put some files away.

Mom gives a relatively small smile, “I taught him well.”

Linda. Everyone in the firm seems to call Mom by a given nickname, “That’s because Lin taught him her strong work ethic.” Cassandra states returning to the receptionist desk, while waving a distracted goodbye to her client, “We won’t be needing to schedule Amanda down. Small claims court, likely.”

Cassandra smiles at me, “Quentin I haven’t seen you around in awhile.”

“Quinn,” I tell her.

She smiles, “Yes of course, I forgot, can you forgive me?”

Daphne watches the three of us, she fixes one of her black curls, “You know each other?”

Mom smiles, “Casey-

-Casey?

-and I go way back, she’s the one who actually helped me land this job,” Mom politely states.

“So, what brings Quinn in?” Cassandra ask, “You aren’t looking for legal advice.” She smiles and laughs.

Daphne turns to the olive skinned, sandy blonde, and stocky built Cassandra, “You can give legal advice to a seventeen year old?”

Mom watches. Cassandra makes a face. In truth she is probably the closest person to know my history. Because she knows my Mom.

“We hope not to give seventeen year olds legal advice,” Cassandra smiles at me “Isn’t that right Quinn?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I smile back.

“Quinn seems interested in your job,” Mom tells her flatly. Cassandra takes a second, she looks at me. Lowering her posture, leaning her chest onto the receptionist counter.

“You don’t want to be interested in my job Quinn,” she tells me more quietly as if to not be heard by anyone else in the office.

I know how this works. I am supposed to be her quiet, shy son. Who doesn’t talk a lot. Who never overstays his welcome. So I smile. I look away, maybe add a bit of disappointment on my face, “Even if I didn’t want to become a lawyer, I’d like to know more about your job.” I state quietly.

Cassandra looks over at Mom, “He’s so precious.”

Mom smiles politely, and softly, “Isn’t he.”

“I am about to take my lunch break,” Cassandra looks at me, “If you want to join me. Then we can talk.”

Looking over at Daphne and Mom, “Is it okay?” I ask.

Daphne gives a slight awe, “Of course sweetie. You’re not on the payroll.” She looks at Mom. Mom of course looks at me. I am not supposed to do anything that will bring attention to myself. But if I want to further my plans as someone who can help those in need, then I might have to. I wonder if Cassandra will tell her or not.

“Go on,” Mom says softly, “You’ve been such a big help. You deserve the break.”

Cassandra gestures to her office with another soft smile on her face. Snaking around the round receptionist desk, to follow her. We enter her office, which is decorated with her accomplishments. Her school diploma hangs crookedly on the wall, though there seems to be no pride in it, she doesn’t take the time to fix it as it hangs downward. Some news clippings of her reputable cases, framed, and hung. Just as saggy on the walls. A bookcase, mostly decorated with Theory of Law books, all though I see a slim paperback romance novel wedged into two big books.

There is a picture frame on her desk of a woman, with a pixie cut, and two dogs. The frame reads, I love my Sister in white while the wood is pink.

“You’re very bright Quinn, why are you interested in my work so suddenly?” Cassandra ask me.

“You don’t like your job much,” I tell her.

Cassandra pauses, “Is it that obvious, I have been considering retiring, leaving in fact. Though I doubt you came here to hear me complain about my job. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it is, if the Traditionalists hadn’t snuck themselves into our policies. We used to never have cases like this back when the Humanists were running office, but it seems the Traditionalists are chasing them out or.” she pauses, “I am sorry, hun. You don’t need to hear an old lady complain about politics.”

I shake my head, “It’s interesting.”

“You find that interesting?” Cassandra laughs, while rummaging in her drawer taking out her bento box, “Most seventeen year olds would find politics boring. Then again, I should know who your Mom is of course you’d find that sort of thing interesting.”

“The Traditionalist or?” I ask, “You didn’t finish your thought.”

Cassandra pulls a face while opening the lid to reveal a salad, she sets aside Ziplocs of almonds and cranberries, and takes out a package of dressing she’s wedge between two ice packs, “Well you didn’t hear this from me or they kill them.”

“You think Traditionalists are killing people?” the more information she gives me, the easier it is to know what angle to work.

“Well,” she simply tilts her head, “Let’s just say there is a case currently going on that may or may not prove my theory.”

“Why did you become a lawyer?” I ask her.

“Why did I become a lawyer,” she smiles, as if she’s recalling a memory, “To help people. We take an Oath of Truth. When the Humanists were administrating or there were more in office, we weren’t utilized the way we are utilized now. We were more like mediators and middlemen, helping disputes between the people. Now with the Traditionalist, we’re assigning guilt and blame. Traditionalists don’t care that much about The People’s Law. They care more about right and wrong.”

Watching her. She seems sad about this fact. Maybe our goals align more than I thought. Maybe I don’t need to use an angle, but continue to remind her why the current system is broken. Maybe she will be easier to convince than I thought. I just need to find a way for her to not to know that this information is for me.

“Why do you think the Traditionalist started to become favored?” I ask her.

She is currently chewing. I wait. She looks at me, “Hun. You don’t have anything to eat with you?” she ask me.

“You don’t have to worry about that, I was going to have lunch with Mom later,” I reassure her.

“All right, I just don’t want to rudely eat in front of you,”

“Thank you for the concern,”

“I suspect the reason the Traditionalist started to become favored, when the Sect of Cosmos began to lose their importance. A lot of our Humanist approaches came from the tenants spoken from the Oratories,”

“Do you believe in the Sect?” I ask her curiously.

“Even if the Oratories about the Celestials and the Realms, may not be true, it is the Sect that has given us the Humanist Administrations. I believe in the policies they crafted, that doesn’t mean that I have to believe in anything mystical to do so,”

There is silence that is creeping in. She watches me. I watch her. We say nothing at first. She continues eating for a moment, and finally places her fork down, “I am smarter than I look. Why are you here?”