The school's principal wakes me in the morning. I barely find my phone. I can't think of a solid reason for calling me this early, other than that the school's burnt down during the night.

I'm confused. But he's confused too. And nervous as hell. He's stuttering. Talking a lot without any meaning. Something about my contentment, my son's comfort, and some support, I guess.

His story only gets together when he mentions Mr. Warren's name. In a comically reverent tone.

Out of his blabbering, I gather that Mr. Warren rang him up at five o'clock sharp in the morning, to give him a really hard speech. About the shitload of money he's supporting them with, and his basic expectations in return, like a safe and peaceful studying environment. These are my words, not his, he summarized the conversation in more vague terms. But he wanted to tell me as soon as possible that proper measures will be taken to ensure the said goal.

I thank him and try to sleep on. Of course, I can't.

Then I try to write. I don't have much time for it, and it makes me more and more frustrated. But the apartment's electricity is a tricky one. It always shuts down the worst moment possible, making my old notebook a step closer to death. Making me lose my documents as well, which is even more frustrating than not writing at all.

Then I just lie in my bed, wondering why Mr. Warren is awake at five o'clock, and if it falls into the category of charity too in his dictionary.

I fall back asleep just a few minutes before the alarm rings. I go back to sleep immediately after I turn it off, too. I wake up to Ben patting my shoulder. We don't arrive at school or work on time.

When I finally get there, Mr. Warren is already leaving. Just my luck. I almost bump into him at the building's entrance.

"Morning," he greets me. "You're late."

I almost say something rude regarding early bird type personality and the health risks of being up before the dawn. Then I choose a safer answer.

"The principal called me. You scared the shit out of him."

"Some people are easy to scare." He shrugs, but not without a meaningful glance in my direction. "We'll see if it's of any use."

And then, without even adding a pause, he points a finger at me.

"Have you ever been to the supreme court?"

"No."

"Wanna come?" he asks.

"Of course!"

"This way, then. It's within walking distance."

The building is beautiful. The entrance hall is all marble and gold, adorned with statues.

Mr. Warren stands back to let me through. When I turn back to him, I notice that he watches me with a smile.

"You enter like you own it," he says. "That's good."

I become a bit flushed.

"Not yet."

I've never heard him laugh before. Until now. Well, he should do it more frequently. He looks almost like a different person. Maybe it's just the contrast between his skin and his teeth, but it's a mesmerizing sight.

The case itself is interesting too. It's very important, of course, and very complicated. He makes me sit with him, and have a look at the documents while he does the speaking. The clients are not present, but the opponent has an extensive entourage. Mr. Warren only has me. And I am completely useless. Not even attractive enough to be called a decoration. So just a dead weight, that's it.

As it soon turns out, he's not in need of any help. He's good. Much better than I gave him credit for. I even feel a little remorse. I apologize to him mentally, admitting that I was too quick to judge. Based on not even him, but on my previous bosses, mediocre dimwits mostly, whose only skill was taking sides, always choosing the stronger party with a natural instinct.

"What?" he asks, turning to me. Only then I notice that I was staring at him.

"You're good," I say honestly.

He thanks me. Without a hint of irony this time, like he's really appreciating it. Then goes on with decimating the opponent's argument. We definitely have the upper hand. Okay, not we. He has.

The opponent looks more and more annoyed. He's almost as brawny as Mr. Warren, but older, with his red hair starting to turn white. Not a likable character, by any means.

"He's Harvey," Mr. Warren says when he notices me watching him. "Frequently called Asshole Harvey. Never take a word seriously if it's coming from him."

"Is he a liar?"

"No, he's an asshole."

Harvey also notices me watching him, and gives me a piercing look. I refuse to avert my eyes.

In the intermission, Mr. Warren buys me a coffee. Just when I start to feel like being to a theatre, we meet Harvey and Co. in the entrance hall.

"Mark! Long time no see."

"Hello, Harvey. How are things going?"

"Great, man." Harvey smirks. "Just great. My only concern is your little pet here with you."

"It rather should be the trial, Harvey. You're really out of your depth today."

For a moment, it seems that he managed to distract him. But only for a moment. After that Harvey shines an evil smile and carries on.

"See, Mark, you really should be pickier about who you bring here. It's a civilized place, after all. No one cares if you fuck her at home, or even in your office, but a Ropie here is a disgrace for the rest of us."

I'm not even surprised. I was expecting something like this. Without the fucking part, that is. I might even have several great answers, but I don't say a word. With Harvey disregarding me completely, it's Mr. Warren's call.

But he doesn't say a word either. Even without looking at him, I sense him go a little tense by my side. It's giving me a suspicious feeling. Not to Harvey, though. He goes on rambling.

"I hear these little Ropie whores are very eager to please. It's not as if she has a word in it, right, Mark? I'm sure you don't ask for her permission. You know she likes it when she goes ay, ay, ay," he snickers.

He certainly feels triumphant. But he's just an idiot. An idiot without a basic sense of danger.

I hear Mr. Warren taking a deep breath. His arm barely moves, yet I suddenly know, without a doubt, that he's going to hit him. I also notice that he knows how to hit without giving any sign of it. A fact I find interesting. Amongst the people in the entrance hall, I'm the only one who can predict it without a warning. This, I don't find interesting at all, after the last couple of months behind my back.

I clear my throat. Harvey looks at me as if I was a disgusting bug buzzing. Which can't keep me from doing the right thing, naturally.

"You're wrong," I tell him with a smile.

"What? You're not a whore?"

"I don't go ay, ay, ay while fucking. I go..."

I throw my head back a little, just to let my throat loose. Then I scream. Loudly and unapologetically. It's resounding between the old walls of the courthouse.

The statues seem to appreciate it. Everyone else in the hall stops dead. The security guards are looking in our direction, ready to take action. Asshole Harvey takes a step back with an expression of utter horror on his face.

When I'm out of breath, I look at him and raise my index finger. Almost as if finishing a long speech with a memorable moral lesson.

"... but only if done properly."

Harvey stumbles a few steps back. He seems absolutely frightened.

Mr. Warren, on the other hand, regards me with a thoughtful look. In a deadpan manner, as if I just made a presentation on an intricate legal issue, which he finds worthy of acknowledgment. He has a sense of humor, after all. A secret strictly kept by now, for sure.

"I think I learned something new," he adds. "I seriously hope you did too, Harvey."

"I'm sure he did," I answer, turning my back to bewildered Harvey and his frozen entourage.

"I have to apologize in his stead," Mr. Warren tells me when we get back to the courtroom. "Truth is, he hates me, not you, you know. You can leave him to me next time."

"If you hit him, he wins," I state simply.

He turns to me with a perplexed look on his face.

"I'm coming from a war zone," I say. I feel the urge to ask him where he comes from, but I don't dare. I don't want to overstep the line.

"What the fuck ay, ay, ay means?" he asks after a long pause spent scanning my face.

"Something like oh, oh, oh. In Russian, I guess. I'm not sure, though. Harvey knows that, and you don't. Why, I wonder?"

"There are only two possible answers to that. Logically, I mean."

"What?"

"I've never had a Russian woman," he replies, stopping for a second with a contemplative look on his face, "or it wasn't done properly."

I burst out in laughter. Harvey and Co. are sending hateful looks in our direction. With the judge entering the room, they can't do anything else.

"Listen, do you want to exterminate him?" asks Mr. Warren abruptly. "If you paid attention, you know everything by now."

I stare at him in disbelief. Then I shake my head.

"No. He's too disgusting. I'll leave him for you."

"Okay. This is the second best option. Next after hitting him. He never reports me for it, you know."

"You mean..."

I palm my face.

"You fucking savages," I mutter to myself.