#ft. saul weissberg

[micahweissberg]

closed starter , @saulweissberg weissberg law firm, late evening.

his phone has been lighting up all day, even as the evening wore on and it was just the two of them inside the office, possibly even on the block. there's this girl he'd matched with who'd taken a special kind of liking to a six-foot-one bird-watching wannabe comedian trying to get through law school, and micah thought it odd that she'd been so eager to set a date to meet up within thirty-six hours of first speaking to each other.

don't know how much longer i have to stay at the office. can we reschedule? well can u get out by 10?

the wall clock behind him reads 9:47pm. his father hadn't left his office in almost six hours. he wonders if the man even remembers he had somebody else in the building with him. he wonders if this is how thalia had felt when the firm first opened, then remembers that the feeling also easily translates from birthdays and soccer games he never wanted to take part of in the first place. the familiarity leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he gets up to get some water to rinse it off, his chair scraping against the pristine wooden floor with a harrowing screech. he's distractedly leaning against the cooler while he tries to compose another text to his tinder date with one hand when the door to his father's office opens, his figure looking much smaller in the door frame. it's sad to think of your parents aging. "it's almost 10pm," he says, like anybody had asked, like he thought it mattered at all to his father.

[mohanmax]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @saulweissberg, saul's home in oak gardens, late night.

‎ THERE'S A GAME ON THE TV. max is pretty sure it was just basketball a minute ago, now the cubs are playing against the dodgers and when did that happen? max isn't sure. his eyeballs feel heavy in their sockets bearing down against his skull, against the couch. saul's couch. he has to remind himself that he's not in his own home, and where is saul, anyway?

"oh, fuck, there you are," max drawls when saul returns. from the bathroom or some other business that had slipped his mind. he can't even remember if saul had said anything, it's also likely the guy just got up and left. not that it really matters anymore, he's here now. peeling his back off the cushions is a herculean effort, but he manages, a hand reaching for the table to grab the joint, of which they'd already shared two between them, off the ashtray. he lights it with the gas stove lighter saul had provided in the absence of a regular lighter. classy as always. "mm, fuck. hey, d'you wanna watch the cubs with me this saturday? i can get us tickets. you can bring a friend, if you want."

[hvneymelons]

Closed Starter: @saulweissberg at Dee's house

Sleep didn’t come easy to Dilara, and while Saul had done an amazing job of exhausting her physically, her mind soon drove back to thoughts she couldn’t escape and memories of the past. After about four hours of honest sleep, she pulled the blankets down and let out a breathe. It was always the same when she had a couple of days off work. Luckily she was returning later that night for a full sixteen hour shift. Climbing gently out of the bed as to not disturb his sleep, Dee found a large t-shirt in her drawer and slipped it atop her naked body. It was early in the morning - about seven thirty or so Dee assumed - so she made way towards her chicken coup to refill the feed and collect her daily eggs. It had only taken her about a week to get used to doing it all on her own. The collecting of the egg being the scariest part for her as she had to reach into and sometimes beneath the chickens in order to retrieve them, but once she got over the fear of her hand being pecked off it had become much easier. She had Terry to thank for that. Eggs in hand, Dee moved towards the kitchen and began the rigorous process that was her cooking. Pulling everything she needed out of the fridge, portioning and organizing it all before her just as he had taught her. Steak and eggs was on her mind for that morning so she turn on her coffee maker and got to seasoning and cooking her meat. It wasn't long before she heard the unfamiliar sound of footsteps walking down her stairs. She offered a smile and uttered a quick, "Good Morning." turning towards freshly brewed coffee kettle and pouring him a mug. "Breakfast should be done soon, if you're hungry." Dilara had made enough for both naturally as she often met friends out for breakfast and never spared the time to cook just for herself.