Page 50 of Honorable Convictions
Refusing to blush at the praise, Pierson smiled. “That’s good to hear. I’ve enjoyed every city I’ve had the pleasure of traveling to in this process.”
“While I’m curious about this arbitration idea and I can see the need for it, it’s not clear to me how this would work,” VK Arvandus said. “How do you believe it should be implemented?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to put it in place. For it to function well, I think it’d have to be an experienced Juris Knight, but how do you select one or more to govern it? Is it a separate person defined in each city, or would it come out of Vegas since that’s where the bulk of cases are handled? I don’t think I’m in a position to be able to answer those questions.”
“You’ve certainly given us something to think about and while I applaud the idea, we may not be able to figure out the feasibility of it at this time,” RK Drystan stated.
“I understand.”
“How are you enjoying DC?” RK Conley asked.
For four months Pierson had lived in DC, and yet everything centered around Mitchell. His brilliant and oft-used smile, their brainstorming, the look of concentration he wore when he worked through his large caseload, and the pleasure of having his hands and mouth coast over Pierson’s skin. A shiver raced down his spine as he thought about the way they came together in his bed, and he opened the eyes that had slipped closed. “My quality of life has substantially improved,” Pierson’s brain supplied, startling him with its accuracy. So much of him was already not the same, and he owed much of it to his relationship with Mitchell. Because he was unable to say any of that, Pierson focused on the way the liaison position had effectively supplied him with a redo button.
“FK36 Barnaby reported that she’s no longer assigning you cases,” RK Conley commented. “Do you prefer not handling them right now?”
Pierson couldn’t contain his sigh. “It’s been a week since I was assigned one, and I already miss that aspect of my job.”
“You have eight months yet to go,” VK Roman pointed out. “Are you comfortable going that long without cases?”
“It’s a question I’ve asked myself repeatedly, and the only conceivable answer I can give is that I don’t know. With the liaison project, I can fill my working hours easily, but there are a limited number of offices, and I don’t see it taking up the full span of those months. My hope is that FK36 Barnaby will relent and change her mind once I have less on my plate.”
“You can manage the liaison position out of Vegas, and we could assign you some cases,” VK Arvandus suggested.
“My intention was to leave Vegas permanently, and I wasn’t happy when I learned that DC was temporary. With the passing months, I’ve grown accustomed to the idea of being here, but I’ve made a commitment to FK36 Barnaby, and it’s dishonorable to break that promise.”
“But you’re okay now with the idea of returning?” RK Conley asked.
It didn’t exactly fill him with excitement, but Pierson had resigned himself to the inevitability of it. Lacking any idea how to handle his relationship with Mitchell or if it was possible to keep it a secret working out of the same office, Pierson also had no assurance that with more opportunities to battle cases opposite each, they wouldn’t resume their rivalry with a vengeance and shred the tentative bonds of their budding romance. “I am,” Pierson replied, although he wasn’t sure if it was the truth. Vegas promised unwelcome change, and he wasn’t prepared to handle the consequences nor return to a slew of Juris Knights lacking incentive to reconnect with him. Back in a hostile environment, he’d only have himself to blame.
“In the future, I’d like you to set a personal goal to be open and honest if you’re feeling rundown,” RK Conley remarked. “It’s important that you also take breaks. Commit yourself to taking time off every year to recharge your batteries. Figure out how to make the most of it. Travel if you want, or lock yourself in your apartment with a stack of good books. The important thing is you not allowing yourself to get frustrated and miserable. We have an eternity as fallen knights, and there will always be cases, so there’s no need to soldier through periods where you’re unhappy.”
“I’ve already promised myself to be better aware of my feelings and to communicate them during our performance reviews. I plan to vacation as necessary, though I cannot say for certain yet where I’ll go or what I’ll do.”
“That’s fine. Half the fun is experimenting to find out what pleases you. It’s important to have things outside of work that fuel you.”
“I understand.”
“Another component of a healthy lifestyle for you might be engaging with others and building friendships. They don’t have to be other Juris Knights or even fallen knights, but connecting with people isn’t something you’ve made a priority in the past,” RK Drystan added.
Pierson nearly remarked that he had a great friendship with a fellow Juris Knight who was proving to understand how his mind worked. It was true as was the desire to boast of their relationship, which surprised him. While he’d feared more hours together would be filled with fighting, that wasn’t the case. Pierson vowed to keep that in mind when Mitchell said something that was a remnant of their abysmal past. It was worth sorting out differences of opinion without letting it rise to the point where Pierson’s memory pulled up a similar incident that had cut and torn him into little pieces.
His superiors wrapped up their questions and dismissed Pierson with the promise that his requirements list would be public before the day was out. Walking out of the conference room and through the hive of busy fallen knights, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of a familiar brunet.
“Hello, Blondie,” Mitchell commented with a grin. The softness of his voice touched Pierson. They were light-years away from the raucous way they’d once dealt with one another.
“Brooks,” he managed, discomfited with the realization that he wanted to walk into his arms and be kissed.
Mitchell took two steps closer, and Pierson wasn’t sure how to handle being around him with an audience. “How was your meeting?” he murmured so no one overheard the question.
“Good. I’m still the liaison.”
“Of course you are.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“What’s for dinner, Pierce?”
“It depends on what looks good at the market.”
