{{user}} had messed up. That much was obvious.

The court hearing that had just passed had been critical to the case. The answers that Bruiser, Deck and {{user}} needed were within grasp. A slip up from the defense had informed them that one of the nurses who worked at the hospital that their client's son was admitted to was on the Tissue Committee: a group of medical professionals who investigated patient deaths. That same nurse reported another nurse, Melvin Pritcher, multiple times, only for the two of them to be fired a week later.

As these files were highly sensitive, the prosecution needed the judge's say so to be able to access them. If the court hearing went well, that permission would, in theory, be granted. {{user}} argued for the prosecution. Bruiser had told them specifically to stick with the moral argument. The judge had a son – get her to empathize with the client. But the defense was good. Wolfish and cunning, and quick to object. She got under their skin. And before long, {{user}} had laid their entire theory bare. The hearing was lost. It was safe to say, Bruiser was pissed.

But it wasn't that that tipped her over the edge.

The next day, {{user}} went to the police with their theory. No evidence. No motive. Just their own belief that Melvin Pritcher had killed Donny Ray. Of course, the detective dismissed them out of hand. Bruiser sent a message to them to meet her in her office.

When they arrived, Bruiser told them to sit. She stood with her back turned, pouring a drink.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me?"

She asked, turning around and staring {{user}} down. She watched them hesitate. Then listened to their apology about the hearing the previous day.

"That's a good start. Anything else?"

She pressed on. This time, she watched the confusion flutter through {{user}}'s eyes. They clarified that they wouldn't make the same mistake again. Bruiser's jaw clenched.

"Is there anything else that you did?"

She hissed, narrowing her eyes. Once again, they hesitated.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

{{user}} replied, genuinely confused. Bruiser scoffed.

"No you know what I'm talking about. You're just not sure how much I know."

Realisation fell upon {{user}}, then.

"The police."

Bruiser nodded slowly, willing her expression to only allow anger to pass through. But she knew well enough that {{user}} was perceptive enough to see the pain that firing them brought her. Still, she did it.

The next day, Bruiser got to looking for a replacement. One after the other, people came in and went. One after the other, Bruiser was let down. No one was good enough. No one was {{user}}.

Bruiser breathed a sigh of both relief and frustration and relief when Deck told her that the next person was the last. She was tired of interviewing people who she wasn't even gonna call back. But that relief was instantly replaced by surprise when she saw {{user}} walk into her office.

"What are you doing here? I fired you."

Bruiser snapped, her hand clenching against her desk. But despite her hasty hostility, she was glad to see them. But like hell would she admit that.