There's nothing that could bore anyone more than an early morning trial in a courtroom full of judging eyes and disapprovingly shaking heads, whispering to each other about things they know nothing about. At least that's how Joe feels about it. All the jury knows is the ‘what’ rather than the ‘why’ and never bother to even think of the latter.

What did he do?

“... Your charges are as follows: six counts of assault with a deadly weapon, four counts of manslaughter, ten counts of money laundering, and three counts of running an illegal boxing ring out of your basement.” The judge adjusted her glasses, tipping them down to give the curly-haired man a proper look in the eye. She clasped her hands together atop the bench. “Mr. Trohman, how do you plead?”

But why did he do it?

Joe clears his throat and opens his mouth to speak, loud enough to hear for whoever is necessary. “Uh, not… guilty?” He shrugs, taking a quick glance around the courtroom and spotting several incredulous faces. He almost smiles at them.

Because... it's just what he does.

He knows he’s nowhere near innocent in this case --or any other case he's been involved in-- but pleading not guilty will drag the trial on for a little while longer and the jury will have to come to a final verdict. But this is an open and shut case, five minutes and the jury will collectively find him guilty as all hell. He's just trying to waste time until-

“Joseph!” The courtroom doors burst open, two suited men walk in while a third struts in front of them with mischief in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Bill and Travie take a seat in the very back of the room and give Joe a nod as Pete continues down the aisle and toward his friend’s side of the stand.

He gave Pete a look, clueless to whatever he may have planned. All he said was that he was going to get Joe out of a potential life sentence, he didn't say anything about how he was going to do it. But he knew Pete would do anything to get him out of trouble, so it had to be something close to foolproof.

The neatly suited man leans over the edge of the stand, “Gimme five minutes and you'll be free as a bird, Joe. Don't worry.” Pete drums his hands along the edge of the stand in excitement, he must have had something stupidly effective in mind today.

“Excuse me, sir, but you cannot-”

“No, no, excuse me.” Pete practically skips over to the judge, a tired looking woman with greying hair and a deep frown on her face. She's seen many cases, has sentenced many guilty --and some probably innocent-- people. She's seen it all and Pete can definitely tell that she's not impressed with him. “Sorry to interrupt the way I did, your honor. But better late than never, huh?

“And who are you exactly?” She cocks a suspicious eyebrow.

“I'm attorney Lewis Kingston, Joe's- I mean, Mr. Trohman’s lawyer. Sorry I'm late but I had to finish up other business across town. You didn't get to the sentencing part yet, did you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Great!” Pete claps his hands together and rubs his palms, a big, sincere smile on his face. “Because my client is innocent, your honor. I mean, manslaughter? An illegal boxing ring? Now that just doesn't sound like Mr. Trohman at all.”

For the next ten minutes Pete paced back and forth, speaking on Joe's behalf without missing a single beat, hands in his pinstriped pockets as he dug Joe out of this hole. Pete knew about the laundering already, he's the one who gave Joe the job in the first place. The manslaughter and assault also wasn't anything new, but he couldn't quite say the same thing about the boxing ring. As long as it brought in extra cash then Pete didn't really care who beat the shit out of who.

"Mr. Trohman wasn't even present during the alleged fights, how could it be proven that it was his call?" He pauses, taking a look at the jury and the others who wanted to see Joe be put behind bars. They were silent, waiting for Pete to continue his point. He thinks he has them right where he needs them to be. "Just because it took place in his basement doesn't necessarily mean he ran the whole operation. My client's a family man, there's a good chance he was just taking the wife and kids out for ice cream. Isn't that right, Mr. Trohman?"

"Hm? Oh! I mean, yes, of course," Joe agrees with little hesitance. "I love those little... angels." He says, trying his best to look as if he's getting teary-eyed just thinking of that nonexistent family of his. Pete gives him an A for his efforts.

"See?" Pete continues, giving the jury his full attention. "He was out with his family. Ain't no way he pulled a gat on somebody. Ain't. No. Way." He emphasized by 'subtly' pretending to shoot from the hip with his fingers pointed like a gun at the jury. A few definitely noticed his actions and Joe had to physically stop himself from banging his head against the stand.

The judge allows Joe to leave the stand and walk back to his seat at the council table where Pete meets him. He takes a seat next to his friend, looking much too proud of himself. "I should be a real lawyer, huh? This is fuckin' easy!" He speaks softly in Joe's direction but there's no mistaking the sound if genuine excitement in Pete's voice. He thinks this might be the most fun he's had all day.

"If you're gonna act like a lawyer, ya gotta sound like one." Joe points out, his eyes trained directly on the judge and her suspicious glances toward Pete. She might not know what's going on for certain, but she can definitely tell something about Joe's 'lawyer' isn't quite right.

"What?" Pete gives Joe his undivided attention this time, reading the way his features make him look a bit worried. "I don't sound like a lawyer to you?" But the satisfied smirk never left Pete's face.

"You did up until you fuckin' said 'ain't no way he pulled a gat on somebody', then added insult to injury by pretendin' to shoot the bastards in the goddamn jury box!"

"Damn, you saw that?" Pete shakes his head, he really thought he covered that up well enough. "I was goin' for subtle, y'know? Hm, I guess it wasn't as subtle as I-"

"It definitely wasn't as subtle as you thought."

"Look, talkin' proper's hard when you barely went to school, Joe. My old man thought I was better off elsewhere, so 'scuse me if I happen to slip into my old ways."

"It's just until the trial's over. She's gonna figure somethin' out if ya keep talkin' like that."

"Alright, alright, fine. I'll pretend a little better." He straightens his tie and folds his collar down a little neater in an attempt to better get into the swing of things. "Never thought talkin' would be such a damn chore." He mutters to himself but he's sure Joe heard. Pete looks in the direction of the judge, her eyes narrowed at him for a second or two before Pete gave her a wicked grin then directed his eyes elsewhere. He sees the jury stepping out of the back room, he didn't even know they were coming up with a verdict already. He must have gotten too caught up in his and Joe's conversation to notice.

There's a middle aged man standing as the rest of the jury takes a seat, waiting for him to read what conclusion they collectively came to. "We, the jury, find Joseph Trohman to be.." Joe seemed to be slightly on edge as he watched the man from the moment he walked out of that room. Pete wasn't as concerned, he's pretty sure he sold his lawyer act well enough to disguise who he really is and make Joe a free man. He doesn't know what Joe is getting all antsy about.

The man cleared his throat then read the verdict off of the paper. "..not guilty." He said, and a majority of the spectators were not happy as they gasped and groaned throughout the courtroom. But the judge had no choice but to adjourn the court and let everyone go.

Joe did happen to let out a big sigh of relief though as Pete simply looked at him, patted him on the back, smiled and said, "Admit it, I'm a good lawyer."

"Shut up." Joe gets up from the table as Pete does the same, still smiling like an asshole. "I need a drink." He walks off, Pete trailing behind him as they meet Bill and Travie by the entrance. But when they all head for the exit of the courthouse, Pete goes off in another direction.

"Where ya goin'?!" Trav calls after him as he's halfway down the hall already.

"Gotta piss!" Is Pete's response, all that excitement must have rushed through him. The other three leave, deciding that Pete will just have to meet them outside when he's done.

Pete finds the toilets quick enough, it's oddly vacant considering a trial just ended. He figured everyone would be rushing through here for a bathroom break, but he didn't mind the solitude. He uses the closest urinal to the door, cleans up, and washes his hands the best he can with the few drops of soap that's left. "Fuckin' swell." He swears as he rinses his hands then turns off the faucet.

Just as he takes a step toward the exit he hears a stall door click open, he could have sworn he was alone before but he figures he just didn't pay enough attention. The person walks out with their hands in their suit pockets, giving Pete a look of suspicion similar to the one the judge gave him earlier. But this particular face was a bit more familiar to him.

"Were ya takin' a shit or just watchin' me piss?" Pete asks jokingly. 

"Neither." Patrick responds, watching as Pete also put his dampened hands into his pockets. His interest must have been sparked by Patrick's presence and his simple answer. Pete tilts his head in curiosity. "I saw you today - what you did in the courtroom."

This day just keeps getting better and better, Pete thinks. He's been smiling so much today that his face might get cramps. "Ya did, huh? How'd ya know I'd be here anyway?"

"Last week you mentioned needing to come here for a trial, but I assumed you'd be a spectator and not a lawyer." Patrick explains. "It's illegal to falsely portray an attorney, you know that?"

"I know a lotta things, Red."

"Please don't call me that."

"Why?" Pete takes a few steps in the agent's direction, the other man takes a small step back, more so for safety rather than because of fear. He could tell that Pete was sly and very good at what he does, he could kill Patrick right now and ensure no one found out about it if he really wanted to. "Ya don't like pet names?"

Against all of Patrick's will his face flushes a light shade of pink from of a combination of awkwardness, frustration, and annoyance. And Pete couldn't get enough of it, smiling wide at the reddened cheeks of the man before him. He takes a final step toward him and Patrick doesn't back away this time as Pete enters his personal space, his blue eyes flooding with rising anger.

"Listen here, fed. Until ya get proof, everythin' ya say about me is a lie. Which means ya can't touch me, ya know that?" Patrick stays silent as Pete twirls the agent's tie between his fingers, a knowing smile on his face as he gives the tie a final little tug and turns on his heel, strutting out of the bathroom in a similar fashion as when he entered the courtroom. "See ya 'round, Red." Then he's gone and on his way to meet his friends that are waiting for him outside.

As much as Patrick hated to admit it, he knew Pete was right. He couldn't make accusations without the proof to back it up, otherwise it's just heresay. But he can get proof - probably much more than he'll need. He'll just have to stay close to Wentz in order to get it.