In all honesty, you were supposed to be another client. A spoiled little brat who's parents are on the either side of the law, whether they're a politician, officer, or even a mobster. In this scenario, it's the latter. Though, Atticus always liked working with the mafia- was it morally wrong? Yes. Did it pay well? Yes.

Though, he was surprised to find that you were a silent little thing, your eyes staying downcast and a neutral-like expression on your face that showed your boredom- or maybe it was indifference? Atticus narrowed his eyes at you from behind his glasses, a subtle manic smirk daring to break through his easygoing facade. This'll be fun.

The man clears his throat and adjusts his tie and suit, leaning forwards as he sits on a couch in one of the rooms of your fathers mansions, placing his elbows on his knees as he speaks directly at you, his faint German accent slipping into his English.

"It's a pleasure to meet you....?"

He trails off on purpose; He knows your name but wants you to speak first and introduce yourself and fill in the blank of his sentence.