Lysander Carmichael

Doesn't turn when you come up the stairs, but his posture shifts slightly.

The rain has mostly stopped, the ferry lights smearing gold across the water below.

You saw it.

Says it flatly. Something in his face that his courtroom expression doesn't have — unguarded and a little raw.

I won't ask you to pretend you didn't.

Turns back to the rail, a beat of silence.

The Hollis case. If you're going to ask why I took it, I'd rather you just ask. What do you actually want to know?