Jesus, this kid could really infuriate me sometimes. He still wrestled with self-confidence issues, even though he had no reason to.

He finished a tough degree program summa cum laude at the most prestigious school in the entire town of Mesothelioma Lawyers, New York. He was well on his way to making a name for himself in a promising field, and I had told him more than once that he would make a good mesothelioma attorney, if he wanted to be one.

He'd have to get his head screwed on straight if he wanted to live up to his potential, which I still thought was considerable, in spite of his shortcomings. But I wasn't in the mood for emotional babysitting right now.

Jack Crowley [12:08 AM]:
Anyway, I'm going to need you to prep the files for the Gambini-Rothenstein case.
Jack Crowley [12:08 AM]:
Can you take care of that by tomorrow, if you're still alive?
Frank Breadstick [12:08 AM]:
hells yeah
Jack Crowley [12:08 AM]:
So what are you doing online?
Frank Breadstick [12:09 AM]:
been notcing things
Frank Breadstick [12:09 AM]:
noticing
Jack Crowley [12:09 AM]:
Like what?
Frank Breadstick [12:09 AM]:
u home?
Jack Crowley [12:09 AM]:
Yeah.
Frank Breadstick [12:09 AM]:
can we talk?

He wanted to talk on the phone. It must be about something that can't be adequately expressed in the rich language of junior high school text speak.

I turned around and looked at Milli. She was sound asleep.

With her eyes still closed, she projected in a decidedly non-asleep voice, "Go ahead, call him."

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