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Negligent Discharge: Rebecca Day 7 (Normal Path)

"This court of the Anthro-Guided World Regulatory Commission, Sector WCS, SubSector 11, is now in session."

You force yourself to focus on the judge.

God, you've fallen hard.

Not wanting to leave Rebecca's embrace in the morning is understandable, but these past two hours have been hell. You didn't know witnesses stay outside until called upon. If you had, you wouldn't have insisted the two of you drive separate. She grew tense as the morning went on, shrinking and stuttering when you went from cuddling to breakfast to getting dressed. The tigress picked you up when it was time to go. You weren't sure if she'd ever set you down.

She's just as scared as you, if not worse.

Navigating the Municipal Building's twisting, modernized halls was a pain. The courtrooms are in a different part of the building than the CMMS office where you'd been last night, so you arrived at the compact, clinical courtroom later than you'd like. The sneer Patricia gave you when you arrived made you a little happy the tigress isn't inside. You've got faith in Lyons, but you don't doubt for a second that Patricia is going to make this as hellish as possible. Finding out she was representing the Prosecution made you sick; it made Lyons hopeful. He gave you the first-time rundown as the minutes dragged on. "Sit there and stay calm," "no out-of-turn comments," "don't lie and don't be combative" were the highlights. And he assured you cops make poor lawyers.

You just hope the rabbit judge isn't going to play favorites. Her tone is even as she finishes detailing your list of charges to the courtroom. Little emotion crosses her gray face when she turns to you.

"Mr. Anonerson, how do you plead?"

You almost forget to stand.

"Innocent, your honor."

The rabbit nods and turns to Patricia.

"Ms. Birch, please proceed with your opening statement."

A change washes over the shepherdess. The agent that rises from the table and takes the floor is professional, not cocky. She speaks with an authority that lacks an overbearing edge. It might be the first time you've heard her sound respectful when she thanks the judge.

"Members of the jury, as the primary and initiating officer of this case, it is my duty to serve as the representative of the State. The prosecution intends to prove that the defendant has violated several State policies, many instances of which predate the inciting incident and previously have gone uncontested. A thorough investigation of the defendant and his partner suggests their courtship claims are a means for the two of them to circumvent State procedures relating to Assignment, and that the defendant was in possession of an illegal firearm -- a machine gun, to be precise."

Where the hell has *this* ATF agent been hiding?

"Through interrogation of the evidence and witnesses present, it will become clear that the defendant is guilty on all counts."

With a small bow to the jury and a nod to the judge, Patricia returns to her seat. Not a single glance your way.

She's gotta be on something.

"Mr. Lyons, please proceed with the defense's opening statement."

The lion gives you a gentle pat before taking the floor. His movements are more relaxed than Patricia's, but still professional.

"Members of the jury: the defense intends to show you that these allegations are baseless. Witness testimony, both character-based and expert, will prove that the defendant is in violation of no State policy, law, or regulation. It will prove that the firearm confiscated by the prosecution is not a machine gun, and that the defendant has not modified it to intentionally behave as such. And ultimately, the evidence will suggest these charges have not been levied in good faith."

Patricia stiffens in the corner of your eye. You're not focused on that as the short-maned lion returns to the table, and the room fills with the sound of shuffling paper. Your lawyer addressed the firearms charges, but said nothing about the courtship claims. Considering you don't have expert witnesses for them, you're a bit concerned. The judge clears her throat before you can call him on it.

"Ms. Birch, you may now bring forward your evidence."

The shepherdess does so with great detail and calm. It's a side of her you haven't seen before. There's no yelling, no curse words, no pokes or jabs. Just argumentation. You can follow along with some of it, but your brain starts turning to mush the further she gets into codes. You've delved a little into the quagmire that is the State's legal system since they're touchy about weapons, but your knowledge is only practical. Lyons follows along hastily, the documents from his case papers fluttering around the table along with his own notes. You move your things aside to give him more room.

Despite his frantic movements, the lion appears confident. His short-trimmed mane stays in place, his suit and tie don't crease. It's the pages that scatter and twitch, not his fingers. Lyons fortunately doesn't notice you staring before you turn back to your papers. If it's an act, you're convinced. The heat waves flowing through your body slow, and your chest doesn't feel quite as light.

You just have to hope the rest of the courtroom is as impressed.

Patricia starts off with the firearms charges. She makes the relevant firearms laws very clear to the courtroom; because you are unmarried, you are restricted to older firearms. On top of state restrictions, you've got to abide by the old laws of the area before it became Sector WCS -- which includes a restriction on machine guns, manufactured professional or jury-rigged. She recalls what you said on Sunday and Tuesday -- you 'repaired' the gun, and you were shooting reloads.

Then you see the Kolibri for the first time in five days.

You want to know where the hell the ammo went when she reveals it's unloaded. The bright scars from the raping scrape of an electro-pen are obvious on the slide, visible even from across the floor. The shepherdess parades it around in her bare, oily paws, telling the jury what she saw it do at the range and that you were about to use it again on Tuesday. You have to dig your nails into your palm when she says her office conducted a 'group examination' and determined the gun had been modified. Lyons has to squeeze your shoulder slightly to keep you from staring daggers.

"Let Talia's associates correct them," he says.

Patricia's argumentation on the courtship front is just as uncomfortable. The definition and legal review part is better because it's shorter; the whole concept of legal Courtship is part of the State's BS, so there's only one set of convoluted codes to wade through. She presents logbook entries from her time at the range as evidence. Nearly two years worth of short reports about your activities with Talia while in her presence. You're tempted to ask Lyons to object on the basis of evidence tampering; the entries are written so objectively. The shepherdess gives a brief summary of the hardcopy, which takes up a good fifth of the case papers. It's the same bullshit she's been screeching at you but presented in nicer language.

Bullshit that may have been true, for a while. But maybe not.

It's also the first time Patricia gives you something resembling a snarl; when she tells the jury the State consulted a 'Relational Expert,' you get the briefest frown when she admits you weren't examined by them directly.

"I put out a 'no-contact request'," Lyons whispers to you, "it's to prevent plaintiffs from harassing defendants. Since she's the initiating officer, technically that's her. She'd need a separate officer to contact you about the evaluation."

That makes Patricia's calm demeanor even more surprising. Her comments about your absence from home and the range over the past few days make sense. Luck meant you weren't at home, and slight paranoia meant you had -- and still have -- aggressive spam filters. Your back tingles when Patricia mentions the department tried to visit you Thursday. Them making an early-morning trip wasn't likely, so you must've slept through their knocks on the door.

You want to hold Rebecca, even as her claw-marks burn.

Patricia explains some evaluation methods officers and agents use for judging courtship, and you wish Talia were here. It'd give her some intel going forward. You shake your head as a weight sinks into your chest. You don't know why you're feeling the guilt *now*, you were right in the room with her yesterday. Then a tiny bit of doubt pokes your mind like a pin: Rebecca was in the room with you, too. The two of you have practically been within arms reach of each other since Friday. Now you're not. Thoughts and doubts from earlier in the week bob to the surface, and it takes all you have to force them back down.

Fortunately, Pat finally says "prosecution rests," before they can get too far.

"Mr. Lyons," the judge says, "do you wish to cross-examine the prosecution before your argument?"

"I do, your honor," the lion says. His movements are confident as he takes the floor, but you still feel slight apprehension. Patricia moves to the witness stand with ceremony.

"Mr. Lyons," the judge says when both are in place, "remember that you are cross examining Ms. Birch as a witness at this time, not as prosecution."

"Of course, your honor," Lyons says before turning to Patricia. "Ms. Birch, why did you wait until Tuesday to confiscate the defendant's firearm, which was suspected of being a machine gun?"

She's difficult to read, but her voice is firm.

"The unusual nature of the firearm meant the field office needed time to gather additional consultants and information."

"That's fair, it *is* over a century old," Lyons says. "So you allowed the potential felon to walk free with his potential machine gun?"

You freeze up, as does Pat. Then a frown spreads across her face.

"The defendant had no prior convictions or violations on record, and until the weapon was examined, it wasn't classified as a machine gun."

"To repeat, the defendant had no prior convictions or violations. Is this still the case today?"

The shepherdess almost grits her teeth as she says 'yes.'

"Okay. Is there a particular reason you -- as the primary agent -- confiscated it on Tuesday?"

"Convenience."

"Convenience?"

"I was scheduled to patrol the Shoktan Shooting Range that day, and he happened to be there."

"You were scheduled to patrol the range while conducting this investigation as the primary *and* initiating officer?"

Patricia almost stumbles.

"Ordinary duties as an agent do not end," she manages.

Lyons nods, giving a moment for the jury to watch her shift in her seat.

"So, to review: you, the primary and initiating officer of this investigation, were scheduled to patrol the Shoktan Shooting Range two days into your investigation. The defendant -- whose actions at said range you have compiled a detailed report of, that spans the past two years, which has not uncovered a single conviction or violation throughout the time of your observation -- just *happened* to be there."

He turns to the jury before Patricia can respond.

"And, for context, the initiation of this investigation meant Ms. Birch had access to the defendants' contact information. Phone services, email -- fax if either of them had it."

The shepherdess shows a hint of teeth when he's finished.

"Is that correct, Ms --"

"Yes," she says, on the edge of a growl. Lyons nods, his posture unchanged.

"Excellent. One last question -- are the other members listed on the evidence evaluation form for the firearm present and available as witnesses? That's Document 171-3 --"

"No, they are not."

The shepherdess isn't hiding her displeasure now. Probably a good sign.

"Very well," Lyons says, turning to the judge. "Cross-examination by the defense is finished, your honor. May I present my evidence?"

You're not sure how to interpret the judge's dispassionate 'yes'. But as best you can follow, Lyons just made some headway. He only stops back at the table briefly to collect a few papers, so you don't have time to ask. The break in his stoicism says enough when he gives you a smile.

Yours falters when his opening gambit doesn't go as planned. Only one of Talia's secret weapons is admitted for reasons you don't fully understand. From the sound of it, two of the three weren't lawyers; this somehow makes them not subject experts. Lyons brushes it off with an air of cool, but is sure to remind everyone that the requests for access to the firearm he filed were repeatedly denied. You flip to the pages he indicates, seeing Patricia's signature and boilerplate rejection reasons.

"Mr. Lyons, is there anything out of order with Ms. Birch's paperwork?" the judge interrupts, a slight edge to her voice.

"No, your honor. I simply want the record to show that Ms. Birch signed these rejection requests."

Though he doesn't look rattled, the lion quickly moves on to his next line of argument. The one surviving member of Talia's surefire legal buddies is an older human lawyer. His name -- Steven Halbrooke -- isn't recognizable to you, but what matters is his expertise. He's got an intimate knowledge of both the current quagmire of the Anthrostate legal system, *and* he's well-versed in the way law worked prior to the establishment of the Committee. He used work in it, after all, with a specialty in firearms law.

The documents he references as he presents the old legal system catch your eye. You recognize the markings on the photocopies; they're old cases and old laws, the originals likely stored in a locked vault somewhere. Electronic copies had been pulled from the State websites a few years ago, and any clearweb sites hosting mirrors had been hit hard with cease and desists. You'd say the State was planning on destroying the originals to erase the documents' existence from memory, but then you'd get called a conspiracy theorist.

You're not sure how Halbrooke managed to get photocopies -- maybe he'd made them himself -- but you can tell Patricia isn't happy. It adds some nuance to the definitions Pat was referencing earlier. The legal definition of machine gun includes individual parts, but there's also the question of *intent*. Poor maintenance, weapon degradation, and the unknowing purchase and use of automatic parts may result in operation like a machine gun, but the user didn't *intend* for it.

Lyons breaks it down for the jury when he takes back the floor; because the State's laws defer to the old laws in the area, they have to abide by these nuances. The prosecution has to prove intent, while the defense has to disprove it.

"...Which the following character witnesses should do," he says. A nod to a technician brings down a projector screen, and an audio recording begins to play.

"Could you state your name, age, and occupation, please?" digital Lyons asks.

"Jon Otz, 53. Uh, I do carpentry work at the Brennand 'Furniture and More' store."

The audio is a little crackly, but the words are clear. You recognize the name; he's one of the guys from the range you got to sign your notebook on Tuesday. Lyons goes through about a half-hour's worth of recorded phone interviews, asking the same set of questions and getting similar answers. Most of the people interviewed are familiar with the range; they're somewhat familiar with you and Talia; they recognize your penchant for old oddities. The answers about your relationship itself are lukewarm, some exclaiming "oh, so *that's* why he's got so much free reign!"

Lyons asking the first interviewee about Patricia's actions brings about trouble.

"Objection, your honor!" the shepherdess says as Otz calls her 'ATF Agent Bitch.' "This is inflammatory!"

"May I explain relevancy, your honor?" Lyons asks, ignoring Agent Bitch's bitching. The rabbit steeples her hands, giving both the cat and the dog a firm glare before nodding.

"You may."

"The defense intends to prove the charges filed by Agent Patricia Birch were not filed in good faith," he says, ignoring the dog's stare. "The logbook from Agent Birch establishes a history between her and the defendant that goes back two years. Accounts from witnesses that shared their primary space of interaction -- the Shoktan Shooting Range -- will elaborate on this history between them, and help to determine if there are grounds for prejudice on the part of Patricia Birch."

The judge flexes her fingers, staring at Lyons.

"...And by extension, help prove or disprove good faith."

"No, I understand," she says, waving him off. "But objection sustained. It's an ATF agent's job to investigate those suspected of crimes and to surveil areas of possible crime. The interviews with witnesses rely on general memory and are influenced by pre-existing opinions; Agent Birch's logs are required to meet a department standard, and were checked for misconduct before submission as evidence. They came back clean; if the defense team would like to re-examine them, you may do so during a retrial."

Lyon's tail droops slightly, less than your heart. The judge sits back in her chair, expression still firm but impartial.

"Were all of the interviews conducted this way? With the questions ordered as such?"

"Yes, your honor."

The rabbit nods and turns to the rat technician. "Just stop the tapes as soon as the question about Agent Birch comes up."

The decision gives you a brief sense of relief. The recordings help build up your defense against *intentionally* modifying the gun, but being able to prove Pat had a hateboner for you would have been better. The in-person witnesses add similar statements to the recorded interviews; Aki and a few of the range employees take the stand for Lyons and reiterate your obsession with antiques. The snarky cheetah recalls the many times she's teased you about it. A few build up evidence of your longstanding relationship with Talia. Lyons has to stop Aki from getting into detail about one of the times you and Talia locked lips to piss Pat off -- the cheetah smiles at you the entire time. You make a mental note to slug her the next time you're able.

Then Lyons calls up the eyewitnesses of the event itself.

Talia looks strange in a pantsuit. It doesn't seem to fit her, somehow restricting her movement without being overly tight. Though maybe that's just the stress.

"Ms. Grilliz, could you describe what happened during the inciting incident of this case?" Lyons asks, voice soft.

"Ano --" Talia stumbles, catching herself before continuing. "The defendant was in Bay Six, doing what I asked him to do and showing Ms. Maldovich the ropes. I walked in on Pat harassing him about his--"

"Ms. Grilliz," Lyons cuts in with a warning tone, "please focus on the incident itself."

Talia's frown intensifies. She waits for the fur on her neck to fall before continuing.

"Fine. We were still in Bay Six at that point. He'd just told us some technical info on the gun and how he'd repaired it himself."

She looks like she was going to add more but bit her tongue.

"The defendant was showing the Kolibri to Rebecca and I," Talia continues when Lyons waves her on; "Agent Birch insisted on watching as well. She was frowning over his shoulder, and --"

"Ms Grilliz!"

The lion's tone is firm now. The judge eyes the cat and dog as your lawyer approaches the stand.

"Because of you are under suspicion of accessory to the defendant's courtship offences, you *may not* comment on Agent Birch's conduct, nor may you argue the existence of your relationship to the defendant," he says, his voice low. You half-expect the judge to tell him to speak louder for the record. "Describe what I ask alone."

Talia stares back at the lion. Her fists are balled tight on the stand with her lips drawn in a thin line. The judge has to clear her throat twice before the she-wolf backs off, edging away from a snarl. The lawyer slowly paces back to the center of the floor when she relaxes; there's a little more stiffness to his movements now.

"Please continue," the lion asks.

"The defendant loaded the firearm, made ready, and fired."

Talia pronounces each syllable with purpose.

"Did the weapon appear to fire automatically?" Lyons asks.

The she-wolf pauses, growling softly. Her eyes dart to the prosecution table for a moment before she says "yes."

Neither Lyons nor the judge make a comment, fortunately. You just pray that he's got some kind of strategy.

"Ms. Grilliz, please describe Mr. Anonerson's reaction after the gun was fired."

Talia's anger disappates for a moment as she considers the question. It returns when she speaks, only slighly more subdued.

"He was... surprised. He inspected the weapon, and when he saw the magazine was empty, he went a little pale."

Lyons nods, about to speak when Talia adds another detail.

"He may have been influenced by other factors, though."

The lawyer pauses his pacing, tail going still.

"...such as?" he asks cautiously.

"Agent Bitch laughed and said she'd finally fucked him."

There's exactly enough time for your stomach to drop before the floor erupts into noise. Patricia's chair clatters to the ground as she stands and leans over the table, barking "Objection!" The she-wolf responds similarly. Her chair falls in the witness stand, but you can't hear it over her torrent of insults and anger. Lyons yells at her like a misbehaving child while the judge hammers away with her gavel. Pat wises up first, effectively giving Talia the last word.

"...and the fucking spent brass on my range means more than whatever badge she waves around like a cock!"

A few more strikes of the gavel ring out in the silence after Talia's finished. She and the shepherdess stare at eachother, oblivious to the judge watching them both.

"Objection sustained," the rabbit says as hackles lower. "Ms. Grilliz's testimony will be removed from the record. Lyons, I hope you've educated your next eyewitness on courtroom etiquette better than this one."

"I have, your honor," he growls. Talia's nails clack against the polished tile as she exits the stands, her tail still fluffed and ears laid back. She's locking eyes with Patricia the whole way; you can feel the low growl in your chest as she slips into the benches behind you. Lyons opens his mouth, but the judge calls out over him.

"Ms. Grilliz!"

The growling behind you stops.

"You are no longer on the floor. I expect no interruptions or additions to proceedings. No comments, to the room at large *or* to the defendant. Do I make myself clear?"

Talia's tone is forced when she responds.

"Yes, your honor."

The rabbit nods and gestures to Lyons. His tail is flicking when he calls in the next witness.

The one you've been waiting all day for.

Rebecca's steps are tentative and silent as she makes her way to the floor. You try not to stare, but fail miserably. She does well up until she passes by you. Her tail flicks nervously, and her hands squeeze tight when you lock eyes. Even if it's just for a second. One of the bailiffs scurries to get a larger chair in the witness box. Her ears turn back, and there's a hint of her nervous smile. Her voice is soft as she takes her oath, but there's a firmness underlying it. You recognize the look in her eyes as she stares at the back of the room, just over your head. You saw it in the bedroom.

You pray you'll see it there again after this is over.

Lyons throws the same gambit of questions at her as the other witnesses. How long she's known you, what she does, how she would describe your relationship with firearms. Patricia tries to object on relevance when the tigress starts to talk about how you were helping her learn to shoot, but the judge overrules it.

You worry things my be different when Lyons asks her to "describe Ms. Birch's reaction to the Kolibri's Firing."

"Objection, your honor," Patricia says. "Inflammation. Again."

"This line of questioning is valid, Ms. Birch," the lion replies. "Ms. Grilliz's testimony on the matter of your involvement was nullified because of her courtship-relationship to the defendant, and the fact *you* filed the claim that it was false. There is no such relationship between Ms. Maldovich and the defendant."

The shepherdess growls, getting halfway up from her chair before remembering herself and turning to the judge. The rabbit drums her fingers, staring at Lyons.

"Overruled," the rabbit says. "Mr. Lyons' point stands. There is no reason Ms. Maldovich's testimony on the subject can't be considered."

The tigress gives the lawyer a look of focus when he repeats the question.

"Well, her reaction was... happy? She said something about 'finally getting him," and went to grab him. When Talia -- er, Ms. Grilliz stopped her, Agent Birch mocked her for having a relationship."

"Mocked her how?" Lyons asks; Patricia's nails dig into the tabletop.

"She was insinuating Talia's relationship with the defendant wasn't real," Rebecca says. "I don't recall the exact words, but I know she said it would mean a conflict of interest if Talia wanted to be a witness. That's... That's why I volunteered to be one."

The tigress gives you a small smile, and you manage to give one back. The first genuine one since you left her in the morning. It's a brief moment, Lyons going on, but it refreshes you. His request for her to stay in the witness stand worries you as he prefaces the piece of evidence he's about to present.

"This is a recording taken on Tuesday the 15th by Ms. Maldovich and Mr. Anonerson," he announces. "After it is finished, Ms. Maldovich, I would like to ask a few more questions."

Rebecca nods as the video begins to play and your worries are validated. It's the video you had her take all the way back on Tuesday, when you wanted to test and see if the ammo made the gun go automatic. The angle is high, even though you remember the tigress crouching beneath the shelter to take the video. There's almost a home movie feel to it that makes you smile; the feeling doesn't last. Your explanation isn't as long as you remember it feeling, Rebecca's 'oh no' coming all too quick as a brown blob moves at the corner of the screen.

The phone-camera shakes and gets muffly as Patricia confronts you; it steadies out upside-down and slightly off-frame. Rebecca was hiding it in her palm. You give the tigress in the witness stand a look of debt. As if you didn't have reason enough to dedicate yourself to her. It takes all you have not to leap the table and comfort her when the tape hits that point. The one that hurt the tiger bad enough to drop the phone.

"Well, maybe that's because I'm not the one he's 'cheating' on Talia with."

The room is plunged into darkness as the rest of the recording plays. You wish it'd landed face-up, so you wouldn't be the only one that'd remember Rebecca's face. The words between Talia and Patricia, and the tigress' hiss are probably damning enough. The recording ends when she picks up the phone and struggles to turn it off. You blink and shift with the rest of the crowd when the lights turn back on. Rebecca's eyes are still closed, her chest barely moving. Your nails dig into your palms.

"Ms. Maldovich," Lyons asks, voice soft, "are you comfortable answering a few more questions?"

She clears her throat and opens her eyes, staring down at the lion with purpose, steadier than you could've ever hoped for.

"Y-yes. I am."

Lyons nods. He continues with his delicate tone, his movements slower than before.

"Why were you present at the Shoktan Shooting Range with Mr. Anonerson that day?"

"We -- he was teaching me more about shooting. I had bought my own gun this time, and it was my first time using it."

"Did he at any point touch your gun?"

"No, he used one of his."

"Okay," Lyons says. "A couple more questions. The recording loses video at one point; could you tell us why?"

Rebecca's hands tense; you sense that dress is going to need some holes stitched.

"I... dropped my phone," she says quietly. Lyons comforts her, drawing her thousand-yard stare back down with a few soft sounds.

"That's okay, that's enough," he says. "That's what I wanted to know. Now, if you are comfortable, please give the court context for the audio during that section. Were there any significant physical actions from Agent Birch or the defendant?"

Rebecca stares down at him for a few seconds before nodding, pushing a stray lock from her face.

"I -- I'm sorry, but I'm not sure. I know I put myself between them before I dropped the phone."

"Why?"

"I -- Patricia --"

The tigress takes a breath.

"Officer Birch was refusing to listen to Anon. She took a step towards him, and -- and I thought she was going to be rough. With him."

"I understand. Why did you think that?"

"She --" Rebecca pauses, eyes darting to the prosecution's table. Patricia's expression hastily turns semi-neutral, but her laid-back ears betray her. The tigress continues when Lyons urges her on with a nod.

"Ms. Birch was aggressive when things happened on Sunday. Like I said earlier, she got excited and moved to grab Anon, and Talia had to shove her away. Seeing that, a-and seeing how she was acting when she came up to us that day, I just -- I was concerned."

She lets out a heavy sigh when the lawyer tells her that's all he needs, relinquishing the floor. Rebecca is about to do the same when the judge asks Patricia if she would like to keep the witness up for cross examination.

Of course the bitch answers 'yes.'

Lyons presses a heavy hand on your shoulder as the shepherdess stands, taking her time to gather her things. Rebecca's breaths quicken. Her ears lay flat, and even from here you see her big, green eyes dilating. You have to --

"Don't," Lyons growls quietly, pressing harder.

"She's in distress!" you whisper back harshly. "Isn't there an objection for that?"

"Not until the prosecution opens its mouth."

It's not long before Patricia does. She focuses on other aspects of Lyons' argument, asking questions of Halbrooke and of the defense lawyer himself regarding the interviews he conducted. The tigress keeps a semblance of cool beneath the uncaring lights. She knows the focus isn't on her and probably suspects the same thing you do, that Patricia's just trying to rile her up. But both of you know the shepherdess isn't going to let her leave without pressing her on the video.

It's at least an hour or two before the bitch finally addresses her.

"Ms. Maldovich," she says; she doesn't look at Rebecca, keeping her eyes down on a notepad. "Describe your relationship with Mr. Anonerson."

The tigress swallows.

"W-we only met last Sunday. There isn't much of one to describe."

"Describe it anyway, Ms. Maldovich. What have the the two of you done? What are your dispositions?"

You flash hot and cold.

"Well, we met at the range. He helped me learn the basics of shooting. We met there to do that."

"Would you say your relationship with Mr. Anonerson was amicable around the time of the incident?" Patricia asks. "Close?"

"I-I --"

"Objection, your honor," Lyons finally says. He's much more controlled than you would be. "Prosecution is clearly leading the witness."

"Overruled," the rabbit says.

"Was your relationship with Mr. Anonerson amicable or close, Ms. Maldovich?"

"I-I would say we were amicable, h-he was helping me learn to shoot."

"But not close?"

"Not -- not in particular, no."

Patricia hums, her tail swinging slowly. She asks for the Tuesday video to be brought up again in an even, deadly tone. The technician speeds up to the phone dropping before pressing play. Patricia's voice seems to echo as she suggests Reb is cheating with you again and again, the recording on a short loop. The tigress stiffens in the stand, staring off at the wall with tiny pupils.

"Ms. Maldovich," the real Patricia says, "you say that your relationship with the defendant was amicable but not close. Explain your reaction in the video."

Rebecca's hands flex. She stares down past the shepherdess, breathing through her teeth.

"I--I'm not good with confrontation. T-the situation was awkward."

The shepherdess has to suppress a snicker.

"So that's why you hiss and snarl moments later? When the defendant 'confronted' you by asking if you were alright?"

"N-No! I -- that's --"

"Explain your reaction, Ms. Maldovich."

"Your honor, this is inflammation!"

"Overruled!" the rabbit says. "And control your tone!"

The tigress shudders like the sound hurts. She's quiet, shivering slightly as she stares off into space. The judge turns to Rebecca, nearly at the same height despite the taller chair. "If you don't feel comfortable answering, Ms. Maldovich, you may leave the stand and resicnd your testimony."

The tigress shakes as the words hang in the air. Patricia approaches the witness stand with a slow swagger.

"I'll ask one last time," the shepherdess says, the smug clear in her voice. "Explain your reaction in the video."

Rebecca is still struggling. Her chest heaves, on the verge of those seizing breaths, and her ears are plastered to her skull. Patricia taps her fingers on the edge of the stand idly, leaning on it before pulling away.

That's when you notice the tigress' green eyes dart.

The heavy *thump* of her paw on wood echoes slightly. You're close enough to hear the splintering from her claws. Patricia isn't able to hide her jump; her tail stays poofed up when she turns around. You note the hand drifting around her belt.

"Was that a threat, Ms. Maldovich?"

"-- I -- reacted that way b-b-because of my -- past," Rebecca manages.

"Your honor --"

"Quiet, Lyons!"

You grip your waterbottle tight, debating whether or not to bean the rabbit.

"I h-had a -- previous relationship with a h-human that e-ended -- poorly. H-he -- he killed our daughter."

Her eyes dart to you; Lyons presses down on your shoulder.

"T-the i-i-implication that -- that Anon and I were in a -- relationship -- brought back unpleasant memories..."

The courtroom is quiet. You dart between Patricia and the judge; the shepherdesses ears have drooped slightly, and the rabbit is trying to look anywhere else.

"Ms. Birch," the rabbit asks, her voice quiet and carefully controlled, "are you finished with your cross-examination?"

Patricia's ears twitch, unsure where to go. Her tail droops as she tries to speak but stops herself. She glances down at her hands, flexing them in and out of fists. Her control chip goes off at least once.

"Yes, your honor," the shepherdess finally says. Something in her tone almost sounds like regret. Her face is grievous as she walks back to the prosecution's table. The shepherdess glances at you for the first time the whole trial; her expression is grim. You can't tell if she's aiming it at you or if it's something she simply can't suppress. You quickly look away as Rebecca squeezes out from the stand. The tigress pauses, leaning on the wood for a moment before taking shaky steps across the floor. Her posture is closed and small, and her tail practically drags across the tiles. Lyons grunts when you move in your seat, his paw still on your shoulder.

"Rebecca," you whisper anyway as she nears the table. She looks up, seeing your outstretched hand, and a tiny smile crosses her face. The tip of her thick tail swipes over the edge of the table, brushing your palm. Lyons pulls at you more insistently, and you turn back to the front. If the tail-brush was enough for her, then it's enough for you.

"Ms. Birch, you may begin your rebuttal when ready."

There's a few more minutes of paper shuffling and note scribbling before the shepherdess gets back on the floor. You think everyone went through another water bottle during the wait. Patricia addresses the room at large before attempting to tear down your argument. You think starts off poorly with the firearms charges. She takes a lot of time to essentially say "what happened met the definition of machine gun, intentional or not." If the State actually punished its employees, you'd guess she was doing it to save her own ass more than to try and refute Halbrooke's solid evidence.

It's when she turns to the relationship front that things look more uncertain.

"The defense has entirely relied on witness interviews to disprove these claims," she says, pacing with more fervor now. "To review, these include random members of the range the defendant frequents and the two eye-witnesses of the inciting incident itself. Focusing on their comments about the relationship itself, things are far from proven."

False words, you hope.

"The range members' statements are derived from casual observation. Not one of them indicated a significantly close relationship to the defendant -- not in terms of courtship, but one that would constitute a more intimate knowledge *of* his claimed courtship. The observation logs produced by the defense, by contrast, are detailed. They are the result of focused information gathering *specifically* about the nature of the defendant's claimed courtship."

Her expression turns resolute as she gestures to your side of the room.

"The single eyewitness' opinion is little more helpful. She has known the defendant for a week, and --"

The shepherdess skips a beat. Her ears draw back, and she begins to show teeth. She's slowly shaking her head when another shock of her control chip makes her twitch. After a small growl, she forces herself to continue.

"--and the eyewitness' volatile past has likely influenced her view on the subject."

There's a hint of regret on Patricia's face, hidden beneath a mask of anger. For once, it's not directed at you. She folds her notes with precision and tells the judge she's finished. Lyons takes the floor with a similar amount of focus. There's little for him to comment on; Halbrooke put the prosecution's argument to bed, and he's sure to remind the room of it. You can tell he's treading dangerously when he points out the way Patricia has conducted herself both before and during the trial. The judge eyes him carefully, searching for an errant statement to punish him for, but the lion manages to avoid her wrath. The words he uses to describe the ATF agent's conduct are unbearably neutral, but you're hoping the jury reads the room.

"...And I'd like to turn everyone's attention to document 213-R."

You flip to the back of the bulking mass of case papers. You were wondering when the photocopy of the familiar form would finally show up. Yesterday's receipt from the CMMS office hides among other forms and documents, most likely also submitted near the end of the allowable period. The fact it's only a page or two long compared to the virtual tomes around it probably helped keep it hidden. You watch Patricia's fists clench with no small amount of pleasure.

"As you can see, the defendant has voluntarily agreed to marriage with Mrs. Rebecca Maldovich," Lyons announces, before turning to the judge. "The court needs to take this into account when deliberating on sentencing, correct, your honor?"

"The court *needs* to do nothing!"

The rabbit stands, towering over the lion from her perch. She speaks more calmly next, but the look of anger remains.

"I question the submission of this evidence. It's hidden among numerous other pieces submitted in the final hours of the submission period, and --"

"Check the timestamp for the receipt itself, your honor?"

She gives Lyons a glare, but does so. You can hear her disgruntled hum from across the floor.

"Fair enough," she says, voice still on edge. "But I'm still unconvinced. As has been revealed through the trial, the defendant and Ms. Maldovich have known each other for a week. That's it. And Ms. Maldovich herself said the idea of her and the defendant in a relationship was troubling."

"People adapt under pressure, your honor," Lyons interjects, "especially pressures put upon them unfairly."

"Your honor --!" Patricia says, only to stand down when the judge slams her gavel. The rabbit leans over Lyons, imposing despite her size.

You can see where this is going, and take off your suit jacket. You begin unbuttoning your shirt.

"I can't accept this piece of suspect evidence."

Can't forget the sleeves.

"Your honor, it's official! Do you claim more authority than the Civil Matchmaking Service system?"

You're glad you buy your shirts a size or two up.

"It's paper!" she retorts, "It's paper that's official! The surrounding circumstances are what I can't believe! How do you expect me to believe this was filed in good faith?"

You don't mean for the chair to clatter to the floor when you stand; you curse as one of your sleeves insists on clinging to your wrist.

"Mr. Anonerson!" the judge says, "what are you --"

The shirt finally comes off. You let it flutter to the ground and whip around, looking over your shoulder with your hands on the rail.

The harsh light of the courtroom makes your staples tingle.

"Is this proof enough?" you ask; the judge doesn't answer. You watch her from the corner of your eye, and realize your chest is heaving. You don't care. Let the lights shine on the red skin. Let the dissolving staples shimmer. Let them all look.

"Mr. Anonerson," the rabbit finally says, voice heavy, "you've proved your point."

You let your head bow.

"...now please, put your shirt on..."

You look up at the back of the room with a sigh. Rebecca stares back; her ears are folded, her tail is in her lap, and she's more closed off than ever. But it's not fear on her face. It's embarrassment -- and a hint of happiness. It turns into a scowl when she realizes you're looking; you grab your shirt and take your seat. Lyons has little else to add to the rebuttal, so things wrap up quickly. The judge instructs the jury, and they're shuffling off to deliberate by the time you're dressed again. Lyons keeps you in your seat for a moment when the judge calls for recess. He keeps eye contact with you for the first time since this morning, devoting all his focus to you.

"I don't know how long this recess will be," he says, "but I'd advise you to keep quiet. Even if we should be getting a verdict when we resume, prosecution can technically bring up anything you say or do in the meantime."

He glances past you towards the back of the room; one large figure stands out in the crowd, staying still while everyone else files out.

"...I'd recommend staying away from the witnesses," Lyons says. "...but I can't stop you."

"You know I have to," you say. He gives you a heavy sigh, but nods. You shrug off his grip and get up, turning to face the tigress. She's shaking as you approach, tail swishing furiously behind her. You don't get the chance to speak; she scoops you up before you can even open your mouth. Her snout dips over your shoulder as she squeezes you tight, her forgiving bust the only reason your ribs aren't cracked. It seizes against you once or twice before she starts to purr.

"You did so good," you say, hugging her neck.

Her rumbling changes slightly in pitch. You breathe her in, rubbing your face into her cheek fluff.

"Thank you, Rebecca. Thank you for -- for everything."

Her chest bounces beneath you -- but it's from a restrained sob this time.

"Thank *you*, A-anon," she whispers. You stroke her hair, hand trailing along the back of her jaw. You don't stop until her purring steadies out again.

"And, uh... sorry about... you know..."

"You'll pay for it later," she sighs. You chuckle and hug her tighter.

"I know."

The tigress is reluctant to set you down. She stays within arm's reach when she does. You do your best to keep to Lyons' wishes and stay quiet when Aki slides up to you with a smirk. You see Talia once or twice; she doesn't even look at you. Her posture is like the few times you went hunting with her, alert and restrained. She ignores Lyons when he tries to dress her down again; you're guessing she's looking out for the feds, same as you. All Aki wants to talk about is your relationship with Rebecca, of course. You know the cheetah's mainly doing it to tease you like she would any other time -- hence why she asks where your interest in 'big calibers' came from -- but you still have to be careful. Rebecca's tail curls and flicks at Aki's comments, even if they're only meant to poke fun. But gradually, the three of you begin to relax.

You're initially worried when the courtroom staff approach. You're only slightly less worried when they tell you the trial is resuming. Rebecca keeps a hand draped down on your shoulder the whole way back, lingering as long as she can before returning to her seat. You take a breath as you pass the bar. Lyons is sitting there already, his hands folded and papers straightened up. One way or another, it'll be over. You know there will be repercussions regardless of how this ends, but at least this part will be finished. You glance at Patricia and the judge to size them up one last time; the shepherdess is focused, staring straight ahead like a soldier while the rabbit looks over the room wearily, seemingly eager for everyone to settle so this trial can finally finish.

"Could a representative of the jury please read the verdict?" she asks.

A human man stands up in the jury box, nervously flicking the papers in his hand. The menagerie around him stares as intensely as the rest of the courtroom.

"W-we find the defendant, Mr. Anon Anonerson, innocent of Firearms Negligence, of Illicit Possession of a Machine Gun, of Perjury, and of Obstruction of Justice."

You fight to stand. Not just because of the tidal wave of relief, but the intense fatigue now that it's all over. The judge speaks over the mostly happy murmurs. Your head spins as people start shuffling about; you're free. You did it. You've got your life back -- it's a bit different than before, but hopefully in a good way.

The sound of a clearing throat shakes you from your stupor, and you find Talia looking down at you. The navy pantsuit looks even weirder up close. She's putting on the same tough, professional face she uses when she's actually got to do RSO work, but you don't think it's angry contempt that she's hiding.

"Congrats, Anon," she says. "It's finished."

"Y-yeah," you manage. You're still processing that fact. You can't get a read on her as your shared stare continues on.

"It is," Lyons says, startling you with a pat on the shoulder. "Paperwork should be sent to you within a few days. Along with -- well, all of it."

Talia's ears flick at his quick save. A needle of guilt pricks at you, threatening to push deeper.

"Talia, I'm sorry about --"

The hug takes you by surprise.

"Don't be," she says. Her claws dig into your hair; you can feel her holding back a whine. She pulls away before you can reciprocate, looking down at you with a renewed mask.

"I told you Friday. It's -- it's all good," she says. "You made it out."

The words hit you again. Talia grunts, her bitchy expression growing more genuine.

"But it wasn't without a fight," she says. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Lyons about the one I got ahead of me with that bitch."

"Y-yeah, of course."

She has to wave you along before you actually get out of her way. Lyons calls your name as you approach the bar.

"Anon, do you mind if I hold onto your contact info? We may need your help in Talia's case."

The thought of another trial makes your head spin; he chuckles at your soft groan.

"Don't worry... it won't be for a while. Contesting Evals takes a long time."

"Of course," you manage, giving them both a nod. You grab the meager court-provided water bottle, stuff it in your pocket, and prepare to bolt out of the building.

You can barely make it past the bar.

Fortunately, Rebecca is once again waiting for you in the main aisle. Her maroon dress creases as she crouches down with open arms. She goes tense when you stop just out of arm's reach.

"Rebecca," you say, "if I hug you right now, I'm not gonna be able to drive home."

The tigress offers you a weary smile; she wraps her arms around you anyway. You feel her lean her weight on you as she stays crouched low, rubbing her cheek on yours with a soft rumble.

"I'll drive you home," she murmurs. The warmth and slight swaying are already making you drowsy.

"But my truck..."

Rebecca shushes you softly, going still save for her stroking hands.

"I'm sure we can get someone to take care of it," she whispers; a groan is all the argument you can muster. "I'm going to take care of you now."

She makes you feel small when she picks you up and squeezes you like a stuffed toy. You shift against her as she begins carrying you out of the room; you imagine it looks like *she's* the one that won big today, not you. Part of you is blushing at the fact she's doing this in public. But more of you recognizes that it's a very good sign. Rebecca purrs, rubbing you against her and squeezing you tight. You pray she'll be as tired as you are when the two of you get home -- you couldn't handle much more celebration than this hug. You don't realize how truly wiped you are until Aki's teasing tenor makes you jump.

"Looks like someone stayed up past their bedtime..."

Rebecca makes a content sound of acknowledgment before stopping.

"Aki," she asks, rocking in place, "could you drive Anon's truck back to our place? He's a little out of it..."

There's a second or two of silence before the cheetah speaks in the most caring voice you've ever heard from her.

"Sure. Yeah, I can do that. I took a rideshare anyway."

"Thank you," the tigress whispers.

"...Do you have an extra set of keys, or...?"

"We'll get them from him when we're in the lot."

"Of course," Aki says, her regular tone returning. "Wouldn't want to wake sleeping beauty."

"Oh--! Too late," she snickers when you begin to groan and shift. Rebecca chuckles, letting you turn to face the spotted menace. You find yourself looking down on the cheetah for once, though her smug mug is the same as ever.

"Shut up, Aki," is all you manage. You're just awake enough to catch her eyes darting before her cheeks puff up with laughter.

"What? What!?"

Aki points up at you. You look down to see that Rebecca's squeezing has crushed the water bottle in your pants -- the dark spot covers a good part of your leg and her chest.

"I can tell you two love each other! Look's like --"

"Shut up, Aki."

She continues to laugh.

"Look's like you --"

"Shut the fuck up, Aki!"

"Look's like you had a Negligent Discharge!"

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