one - What Are Gallagher's, Exactly?

BLAKE MITCHELL walked down the busy streets of Chicago. The degree frigid due to it's winter approaching as her blonde locks that were tied up into a high ponytail, shifted swiftly from side to side with every step she took.

A breeze blew by, hitting her pale countenance and tinting a light shade of rose against the tip of her nose and cheeks.

Though, the two latte's that she held in her hand helped with body warmth.

She smiled softly at those who paid her any attention on the streets, even though she knew fully well why strangers given her the time of the day.

The black Micheal Kors strap resting on her shoulder and the bag itself attached to her at the hip, a new pair jeans with an eagle logo patch sewn into the piece of clothing to show it's been bought from American Eagle Outfitters and a clean pair of Timberlands on her feet gave away the obvious, that she was not in fact, from the South side.

Blake Mitchell were one of the lucky people who were born into the perfect wealthy family out on the North side.

So, what would she be doing in the South side, walking with two room temperature latte's, from Starbucks, in her hand?

Simple. A perk of birthing into the perfect family, was having a well known father, who majored Law in the field of criminal defense.

''Thank you,'' She appreciated as one of many of the busy lawyer's that came in and out of the Central Booking building, had enough decency to hold the door for her while conversing on the phone.

''Hello, Dwayne,'' Blake greeted with both corners of her lips grinning from ear to ear.

''One of them latte's better be for me,'' The security guard teased as he used his transportable metal detector to scan her.

''How about I get you a box of Boston Creme over at Duncan Donuts and we can suck out the filling?'' Blake offers, mirroring the taunting smirk on the dark skin mans lips.

He steps away from the blonde and huffs a puff of air. ''Bring me a Nesquick while you're at it, and you got a deal.''

Her chest heaves from the soft giggles that slip past her lips as Dwayne, a friend to the Mitchell family for as long as she could remember, lead her to the room her father was in.

''Hey, I want you to be careful with the kid in there,'' Dwayne warns, getting out his large ring of keys, that he had one too many for Blake to count. ''He was taken in for holding onto twelve packages of Heroin.''

Blake drops her weight onto her left leg, propping out her right leg as the guard stood there, only holding onto the ring but not looking for the actual keys. Her hazel eyes bored into him blankly, ''I faced rapists in my lifetime, okay? Drug dealers aren't necessarily the scariest in the book.''

Dwayne teared his gaze from the stubborn teen with arch brows and started looking for the correct set of keys to enter the room her father currently sat in.

Blake threw her head back in a circular motion, cringing at the tough knots cracking in her knock as Dwayne began to unlock the door.

She fixed her posture as the security guard now held onto the door knob, pulling it down and pushing it through to reveal the back of her father's head with a brunette sitting next to him.

Blake walked into the room and furrows her brows at the client that sat across from her father as Dwayne prompted, ''Remember, Mitchell, make it short.''

As the metal clicked behind her, the door now completely shut, Blake broke her focus on the young teenager and towards her father.

Aaron Mitchell had his elbow propped onto the table, his temple leaned into his pointer and middle finger that rubbed against his skin while his pen was managed in his grip.

The blonde cocks a brow and breathes out, ''Coffee?''

He peers over at his daughter presence through his perivale vision. He lifts his other hand to wave her off, ''Just leave it on the table. It's probably cold by now.''

The brunette that sat next to the stressful attorney looked up at the glowing blonde with her lips quirking into a weak smile.

''I'm guessing you're his kid?'' She implies, putting her father in third person to know that she was talking directly to Blake.

She opened her mouth to respond, but her father spoke for her. ''Yes, actually. My youngest.''

Blake pursed her lips as her father wrapped his rough hands around her petite wrist. ''Thank you, sweetheart.''

A corner of her lips twitch into a vague smirk and nods her head. She looks back up at the brunette who was focused at the trouble teen in front of her with concern.

''I'm Blake, by the way.''

Her dark wave locks shift when she turns her head to the side to look at the blonde again. She notices the weak smile returning made only of force than of the kind gesture from earlier. ''Fiona.''

She points to the boy across the table who seemed to be glaring at the peppy girl. ''This is my brother, Carl. My second youngest.''

Blake gnaws on the cracking skin on her lips caused by the cold air from outside and nods her head.

''Did you really sneak 12 packs of Heroin?'' She questions, blurting the racing thought out of her the second the silence full of tension grew.

The blonde nearly jumps out of her skin at the actions of her father slamming his fist against the table, sharply hissing out her name in anger.

Carl furrows his brows at the girl who inwardly pouted at her angered father.

Aaron looked up to his youngest child, his light shade of brown orbs piercing into her hazel ones with a discrete message only the two Mitchell's knew about.

Blake breathed out a sigh and turned to look back at Carl. ''I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.''

Blake knew better than to act out when her father was at work. Especially when he's tense and under a lot of stress.

Aaron scratched the side of his head as he began to flip through the pages that held information of Carl's permanent record. ''This kid has double digit suspension from school, he sent three kids home with concussions; two with busted ear drums, and one with a ruptured testicle.''

''It was gym,'' Carl smirked. ''Decided to play kickball.''

Blake bit on her inner cheek, at attempt to remain in silence while complying to burst into a fit of laughter.

''Pleading guilty won't do you much, kid. How about explaining your side of the story?''

''I'm not a rat,'' He plainly told his attorney.

''Don't think of it as ratting your drug dealer out,'' Aaron tried to convince. ''Think of it as justice for the scumbag who made a kid do his dirty work.''

He continued with that stupid smirk that oddly grew Blake Mitchell annoyed. ''He didn't make me, I wanted to.''

Aaron tilts his head to the side. ''That's not an argument, I'd advised using at your sentencing.''

Fiona turned to him with arched brows, lines dented in her forehead as she shortly informs, ''Gallagher's don't snitch. What if he shows remorse?''

Carl's features twisted into a cringe when asking, ''What's that?''

Blake cocked a brow at him, turning to look over at Fiona. ''Is he serious?''

Fiona's eyes fluttered to the back of her head as she nodded at the astonished blonde before answering her little brother, ''It's means, you say you're sorry.''

He shakes his head, ''I'm not.''

She shoots him a pointed look, exclaiming, ''Lie.''

''Isn't lying in court, illegal?''

Blake couldn't help but look away with a scoff. 'He doesn't know what remorse means but he knows one of the rulings in a court room?'

''Just tell the judge what she wants to hear,'' Fiona persisted. ''Carl, she could give you a year.''

He shrugs his shoulders. ''Better than school. Maybe I'll learn something in Juvie.''

''Carl, this is serious.''

''We can't guarantee your safety in there,'' Aaron chimes in, causing Carl to furrow his brows at him, asking, ''What's that suppose to mean?''

''You lost your dealer, a lot of money. You don't think he got friends in Juvie?'' Aaron's questions rhetorically. ''He'll make you pay. Look, the police don't want you. They want your boss. It would be off the record, in judges chambers and no one would know you gave him up. He'd be behind bars where he can't get you.''

Carl remained silent, not giving much to Blake's father. If he loses this case, he doesn't get a bonus for winning.

''Blake,'' Dwayne called the second he opened the door. She turned to look at him with arched brows, questioning him of his abrupt presence through her facial features. ''Times up, come back another time.''