Lindsey chuckled. He was hardly going to put up a fight with a pretty girl offering to put alcohol in his belly.
He shook his head. "It's just you this afternoon. City's not exactly forthcoming with what my role here is, and we're not exactly in a cesspool."
He knew, and half-expected, that a time could come where Holland Manners or Darla would darken his door and ask for something awful again. Lindsey didn't want to be that guy. Not really. Not even with an eternity of basements to face down. No. He wanted to watch them fall, Wolfram and Hart.
Break 'em.
But since he couldn't be certain yet he didn't work for them, he'd been keeping his head down in the legal world. He'd heard about a case where a young girl'd apparently beaten a guy to death for trying to cut down a tree. It was intriguing as hell, and he wanted to talk to her. But he'd stopped himself from doing so.
"Always got time to let a pretty girl buy me a drink for bein' brilliant," Lindsey said. He realized he didn't know how old Lois Lane was, but if she was offering, that must make her old enough.