Miles, for now after a court case— thankfully Phoenix not being the defendant he goes against, he'd hate to just accidentally, subtly, flirt with Phoenix during a very serious case, and then end up loosing— sits in his office, sipping a tea he made, typing on his computer.

Miles leans back and sighs, bringing a hand to run through his slicked grey hair. He isn't even old, his hair is just naturally grey. He glares at his computer screen, and if that device were alive, it would've been intimidated immensely with how the rich prosecutor glares.