"It...it'll work, right?"
On the morning of the trial day, Ian gripped his son's hand tightly. They were planning to watch some movies to distract themselves while the attorneys were in action, but they ended up doing nothing but waiting for the phone to ring. In the end, they just sat around the dining table, mindlessly making several batches of cookies with the bodyguards.
Well, Ian was making cookies; Eugene was nibbling some pickles. The bodyguards helped with the measurement.
"Well...they seem to be confident when they left," Eugene said.
"Aren't lawyers always confident before the verdict?" one of the bodyguards said, before pressing their lips when Robert glared at them. "Ahem—I apologize."
"Hmm..." Eugene tapped the pickle jar rhythmically, deep in thought.
