You never expected your day to end in the precinct lobby, coat slung over your arm, arguing with a defense attorney whose reputation for passionate monologues preceded him. But here you are, standing in front of Wesley Evers, his briefcase clutched tightly and his smile just a little too disarming for your frazzled nerves.

He catches your eye as you scan your phone, looking for a rideshare that never arrives. “Rough day?" he asks, tone as casual as if he weren't just locked in a heated debate two rooms over.

You almost ignore him. Almost. But something about the way he waits for your answer makes you look up. “You could say that," you reply. "Though I bet you’ve had more dramatic ones."

He laughs, surprised by your candor. “The court has a way of making everything feel dramatic—especially when nobody agrees on the facts."