2019-11-27 - Coffee and Careers

It's a lovely afternoon for autumn in Gray Harbor. Actually warm, with cloudless skies. As a result, a lot of the tables are full in the coffee house. Alexander has one of the smaller ones, near the window, but at least he currently has it to himself. Not that a few of the new arrivals aren't eyeing that empty seat with naked greed. On the other hand, it involves sitting with someone who looks like a homeless guy and is known around town as 'Crazy' Clayton, so there are no immediate takers. Instead, Alexander is sipping a large coffee, and working on a crossword puzzle. In ink, the jerk. He looks up frequently, whenever the door opens, to scrutinize whoever comes through.

Blonde and beautiful comes Cassidy, with a countenance that telegraphs to the world they have 'no chance'. She pushes her huge sunglasses up her brow to rest in the nest of perfectly styled hair. Today she wears an impressive china gray suit (with pants), her blazer layered on top of a bright pink blouse with ruffles at the chest. Shoes sport three inch heels to elevate the diminutive district attorney to a more intimidating 5 and a half feet - not that she needs the height. She slips into line and looks around, immediately perturbed by lack of future seating choices.

Alexander's look up is usually cursory, if intense - just enough to ensure that whoever is coming through the door isn't someone he likes, or hates, or a monster about to destroy everything. But seeing Cassidy, his gaze lingers, following the woman to her place in line. After a moment of narrow-eyed thought, he tries to catch the Assistant DA's eye, and nods to the free seat at his table. Just in case she's looking for a place.

It's less any gesture made and more just the sense of 'eyes watching one' that magnetizes Cassidy's gaze toward Alexander. There's a brief judgmental sweep at how he's chosen to present himself today and she sighs lightly and lifts a 'one second' finger just before placing her order.

That done, the attorney who is too good for this place, this city, this state, walks over to the free seat and settles in. Her eyes aren't severe, or mean, but they burn holes just the same. "Yes?"

Alexander meets her stare for stare, his own black gaze reptilian and flat. "You looked like you were trying to find an empty chair. I had one." A nod at the chair she just sat down in. "Thought it might help." He looks back down at his crossword, and starts to fill in a word or two. "How goes the Assistant DA-ing? I understand there were arrests with the casino workers." A flick of his eyes back up to her.

"I understand that as well." Cassidy looks over to the serving counter and gets up to quickly collect her coffee - a huge iced coffee with much cream - and return to the table. "It's about time..." she takes a sip and hmms softly. "Apparently talking to homeless people put everything on the right track. Now why didn't the boys think of that?"

Alexander's eyebrows go up. "Someone told you about the homeless guy?" He sounds surprised. "And it's not that they didn't. It's just that homeless guys don't really...talk to cops, if they can avoid it. And if they can't avoid it, sometimes they don't tell the truth." A shrug. "But I'm glad the investigation is progressing." He studies her coffee - or rather, her cream with a bit of coffee flavoring - with some amusement. "It must be difficult. To have to wait for other people to assemble evidence and make arrests before you can do your part."

"Who waits?" Cassidy asks with a scoff and furrow of her brow. "The DA's office is very involved in murder investigations."

"Oh?" Alexander grins. "Any interesting one you're poking around in? I hadn't thought you were the type to get your hands dirty with the investigation portion of the thing." He takes a sip of his coffee. "I'm always interested in murder," he says, with a disturbing level of good cheer.

"I'm just on the Sea View murders." Cassidy says when she picks her coffee up again. Speaking of murder, "They're a good way to make a career." Spoken with the same objectivity a mechanic might regard a fuel injector. "It's called vertical prosecution. It's a practice. One DA is assigned to the case at referral and follows it through evidence collection, serving the victims, witnesses and law enforcement - through trial, sentencing and any appeals."

"I suppose. Provided they don't get too complicated," Alexander murmurs. If he's bothered by the career-minded nature of her interest, it doesn't show. He just watches her like he's trying to see what's inside her skull. "And what do you do, in all of that? I mean, I guess interview survivors, and collect depositions, expedite lab reports, things like that?" A pause. "And what sorts of things do you need to make the best case?" He frowns. "I know how to investigate, and solve things, but I've never had much...experience with the courtroom side of things." One of the downsides of his very unofficial sort of occupation.

"Mainly we provide legal advice on the investigative decisions of law enforcement and analyze and develop investigative strategies. Also training and compliance with best practices and lawful investigation," she explains. "We'll take depositions if we have reason to believe a witness's testimony would not be perserved through trial."

"Interesting." It's not an idle response - Alexander's focus is intense, drinking in the words more than the coffee. Although that, too, is sipped in an absent sort of way. Then, abruptly, he asks, "Why?" He seems to realize that requires more context, so he says, "What made you interested in this particular work? It must be stressful."

"It's a story." Cassidy says in a tone that suggests she's not going to tell it. "I was going to go into politics. That fell through. I went to Seattle and did public defending for about a year and then this opportunity presented itself."

"Politics." Alexander doesn't quite wrinkle his nose, but he's not tactful enough to make it look like he thinks it's a great career. "From defender to prosecutor. Interesting." He falls silent, staring at her for far too long as he sips his coffee. From the furrow of his brow, he's probably thinking about something, but whatever it is, he's failing to share.

"Public defending." Cassidy corrects - see? Big difference. "That is truly a dead end proposition."

Alexander makes a noise. He studies his crossword, head ducking. "So. What are you aiming for, then? I mean. 'Good for your career' in Gray Harbor is still," a long pause, "Gray Harbor."

"I'm not going to stay here forever." Cassidy says definitively. Everything about her personna suggests she thinks she's too good for this town. And everything about her suggests she might also be right about that. "We'll see. Above ADA is DA. Above that, State Attorney General. Short step from there to a judgeship, perhaps?" She shrugs.

"That's good," Alexander says, also definitively. Whatever his thoughts on her goodness or lack thereof, he seems relieved that her plans do not include a long-term life in Gray Harbor. Another sip of the coffee. "Do you want to be a judge, or is it just the next step on a journey going...where?"

"I'd like to be a Federal judge, sure." Cassidy takes her sunglassess off her head and rests them on the table - a sure sign she's not planning to jump and run as soon as her coffee is done. "I don't know that the journey has a destination. Just how far I can climb." A hand thrusts into her purse and she swings out her phone, flipping it between two fingers into proper grip for texting.

"Why climb at all?" Alexander asks, perhaps pointing out at least one reason he dresses like a hobo and nurses his coffee like he can't afford a refill. A glance back at his puzzle, then over to her glasses. "I mean. If you find that you enjoy doing one of those things, wouldn't you want to continue doing them? What makes you want to be a judge, other than it's higher on the career ladder?" His questions are earnest, if a bit rude, like he's genuinely trying to figure out the point.

"Sevice to society. Pess stressful." And the two visible packs of Kools in her purse, one still wrapped in celophane, speak to that. Not that it's shown on her face. Yet.

Alexander's eyebrows go up. "Service to society?" He doesn't hide a certain surprise with that answer, tapping the pen lightly on the surface of his puzzle. "I guess that explains why you didn't go corporate and decide to be the youngest CEO ever?" It's a bit teasing, perhaps, although it's mostly in his eyes; his voice remains almost toneless.

"Nope. I went to law school." Cassidy laughs.

"Nope. I went to law school." Cassidy laughs.

Alexander blinks at the answer. "Um. Well. That makes logical sense," he admits, with something that might look like a smile under the right light and after several drinks.