|Abel Parrish + Fenrir (devourer) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-03-21 10:06:00
|Entry tags:||ares, fenrir|
the percentage of americans in the prison system
Who: Daniel & Abel.
What: Daniel has a problem and Abel might have a solution. If by solution you mean breaking things worse.
Where: Century Regional Detention Facility.
Licking a finger, Abel flipped through the dossier he'd been provided on his latest 'client.' The man claimed he'd been defending a woman's honor using a Bat'leth, an iconic weapon from the well-received Star Trek TV show. His had been a fully usable reproduction, as discovered by the man he was assaulting when two fingers had been cut off and his face slashed open. The woman being fought over called the cops, the assaulter was now in jail, and it was Abel's job to assess his competency to stand trial. He couldn't help but attempt to swallow back a few chuckles at the idea that the man was anything but sane -- so often people rushed to judgement, and later used the 'I didn't know what I was doing' excuse. But at least it was a nice reprieve from the usual onslaught of rapists and murderers. In conjunction with the fun time he'd had over the weekend at Rafe's expense, Abel was in a nearly chipper mood.
He turned another page when a buzzer sounded to announce the departure of another visitor. The CO on duty preceded the man, a tall, lithe Asian dressed in a nice but worn suit. Abel rose to his feet, recognizing Daniel Ciin when he saw him.
"Daniel," he called out, waving a little to pull the other law worker in his direction. "I had no idea you'd be here today. We could've carpooled."
Daniel chuckled. "You definitely don't want that," he said, heading over toward Abel's side. He stopped just in front of him, his hands in his trouser pockets. "I'm a shitty carpooler. Sometimes I run late and I always have to go all kinda places at the last minute." He tipped his chin toward the file his neighbor had been perusing. "Who are you here for? Anybody I might know?"
Abel shrugged. "Guy named Ryan Stufort, though I wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly went by Commander Worf. You heard of this? It's been going viral pretty much everywhere, I think. I hope he enjoys his fifteen in the limelight, a 5 year sentence is nothing to sneeze at." He nodded in Daniel's direction. "And you? Another miscreant ready to rejoin society?"
"Man, don't say that. Not around me, anyway." There was an unusually firm note in Daniel's tone, as though this -- and very little else -- was not up for debate. Abel's brows rose, taking note of the contention but letting it pass without further comment. Daniel kept his eyes on Abel's, but tipped his head back toward the CO.
"I got a guy named Andre Cooper. He'll be out in a couple days. Really small-time shit, possession with intent to distribute. If he could get a license it wouldn't even be a crime, but here we are… so this is our last meeting in here before he's out in the real world." He shrugged. "Makin' plans for the job hunt and all that."
"And how's that going? Did he have a profession beforehand?" For once, Abel kept his words neat and polite, searching for more information rather than seeing what other scabs he could pick off of Daniel's mental hangups.
"He did, yeah, but his work history was kinda spotty. When he was there he got good reviews, though. General labor at a warehouse. I can get him back into that no problem, but personally I think he'd be better suited in maintenance. I've found a few places that take apprentice-level folks, so we're workin' on that." Daniel lifted his chin toward Abel, a playful grin tugging at his mouth. "Why the curiosity? You wanna write him a letter of recommendation?"
Abel quirked a brow, a smirk curling the edge of his lips. "What, a colleague can't ask out of professional courtesy, without getting roped into something more?" He was already reaching down for pen and paper, grabbing his organizer as though he were prepared to take some notes. His movement pulled Daniel more toward the corner of the room, as though their conversation was not meant for prying ears. "I can, if you need the help. I wouldn't want to assume, though. What's his date of release, and where'll be be staying?" He clicked his pen into motion, writing down the man's name and his alleged crime.
Daniel considered for a moment. Though far from necessary, the offer was welcome, and he had not gotten where he had by second-guessing opportunities when they arose. "He's out Monday, headed to Mercy Mission over on Birch, at least for now. Once he gets a job and some savings we'll look for something a little more permanent." He canted his head, gratitude in his dark eyes. "Thanks, Abel. I really think this guy's got a chance, you know? So if there's anything you can tell me that'd, I dunno, let me help him a bit better, I'd appreciate it."
"It's what I do," Abel returned, jotting down every little thing Daniel had seen fit to describe to him. His planner was quickly filled with notes, sprawling cursive that seemed to imply a well-ordered and cultured mind. He looked away from the page and back to the man he was speaking to. He tried a small, placid smile on for size. "Anything I should be aware of, with him? You know...disabilities, issues? Never a good idea to walk in blind with these things. And you'll let him know I'm coming, right?"
"Yeah, of course." Daniel twitched a little smile. "Just don't sneak up on him. He got roughed up a few times in here. I wouldn't say he's got PTSD, not by a long shot, but… maybe just be thoughtful about it." Daniel clapped a hand on Abel's shoulder. "Thanks, man. Really. I owe you one."
"Believe me, it'll be my pleasure." Abel wrote down the last few bits, clicked his pen closed and smiled at Daniel. He swapped the planner to his other hand, and extended the latter to Daniel for a brief shake. "I'm sure once I'm done with him, he'll be as right as rain and ready for anything."