17608/A Stilted Interview

A Stilted Interview
Date of Scene:	08 April 2024
Location:	The Law Offices of Jennifer Walters, LLC
Synopsis:	Jennifer Walters has a surprisingly touching interview with her one (1) paralegal prospect after a disastrous encounter with one (1) Stilt-Man. Ruth doesn't know MUCH about the law, but that's okay -- the power of prophecy has led her to the one lawyer in the universe who hires based on feels.
Cast of Characters:	Jennifer Walters, Ruth Aldine

---

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Behold! The stately offices of Jennifer Walters, PLLC!

Well, really, it's more like... Behold! The stately brick-and-mortar of Sharon King, superpower-friendly land lord who is generously renting out a sizable chunk of her building to Jennifer Walters, PLLC!

But, c'mon. That's like -- a whole mouthful! Let's just keep it simple and positive and talk about how quaint and comfortable Jennifer Walters' reception area is, since that is, after all, where we'll currently find Ruth Aldine (hopefully!). There's a row of seats, leading to a fashionably-appointed reception desk that has an inspiring photo of Jennifer Walters, giving a thumbs up!

The desk is currently empty because talented receptionists are hard to come by, but that's neither here nor there! Just look at that big green thumbs up!

Beyond lies Jennifer Walters' office. It is also unoccupied. And it has been, for the half hour since her interview with Ruth was arranged. This is important to note, as it segues neatly into our context-establishing flashback with a simple question:

Jennifer Walters has posed:
                     Where in the World is She-Hulk?!                      

It's a great day to be Jen Walters: she's got her new office set up! Sharon King is a treat! She's got a whole list of promising paralegals to interview today! She got a whole, fetching new ensemble courtesy of Janet van Dyne to make an impeccable first impression! Can anyone blame her for the sunny smile she sports, the -swagger- she's got going on as she strolls the streets of New York to her new place of business, ready for a fresh new start, on her OWN terms, ready to have it all? Surely, no one could ever possibly wish ill on this mome--

"SHE-HULK! TODAY YOU DIE!"

"Huh wh"

    WHABAM!

"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!"

Well okay so someone can.

That someone is none other than the SUPERIOR STILT-MAN (his words), currently ramming Jennifer Walters into the side of a building with one mighty, steel-wrought stilt. His long (looooooooong) shadow casts over She-Hulk's form as everyone's favorite gamma-irradiated gal stumbles back out of that concrete-drizzling, Hulk-shaped hole, shaking her head in confusion and desperately dusting dirt off her shoulders.

She looks up. Uuuuuup. She squints.

"Wilbur?"

"Stilt-Man!"

"Ooo-kay. Listen. Can we -- do this another day? It's just... I -just- got this outfit, and my day was looking -great-, and--"

"I am here today for vengeance, Jennifer Walters!" ("oh okay so i have to use a code-name for -you- but you can just throw my real name around willy nilly, huh--") "On this day, five years ago, you cost me an important court case that put me deep in debt right in the midst of a breakthrough in hydraulic lift technology! Because of you, I had to sell my designs just to recoup my losses! Now my hydraulic ram is being used for revolutionizing agricultural machinery, instead of crime! And I don't even see a cent!"

"... uh.... oh! Yeah! I remember now! You tried to represent yourself!"

"Yes, but I--"

"And your closing statement was about how those who tower above society have the right to step on it!"

"Hrrng -- because it's true! It's not my fault that I'm ahead of the times--"

"Ha ha ha! Well, you know good ol' Benjamin Franklin said: 'he who serves as his own counsel has a fool for a lawyer and a jackass as a client'!"

"That was Abe Lincoln!"

"So you ADMIT you knew the line and represented yourself anyway?"

"GAAAAH! THAT'S IT!"

"Uh. Hold on. Look. This outfit is -really expensive-, Wilbur--"

"BEHOLD MY ULTIMATE INVENTION, THE FRUIT OF FIVE LONG YEARS OF VENGEFUL LABOR--"

"BE COOL, WILBUR!"

"-- A REALLY BIG BOMB!!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOO--"

Jennifer Walters has posed:
                        ONE LONG BOOOOOOOOOOM LATER                        

It's just Ruth and one well-put together young man with a pen in his shirt pocket still waiting in reception by the time the door leading in swings open with a SMACK.

In stalks Jennifer Walters, the tattered remains of her Janet van Dyne original, once a very fetching purple skirt suit, smoldering and burnt to a few sad rags. Jen is also smoking, and not in the fun way, or the unhealthy way, and more of the 'literally heat vapors belching off her green skin and frazzled hair' way as she stalks through the office with an absolute deadpan expression.

Slung on her shoulder is one long (loooooooooooong) sparking steel leg that seems to go on and on without end as she walks past.

She doesn't look at Ruth or the young man. She just marches past, opens the door to her office, and shrugs off the sundered stilt-leg now stretching across the entirety of the reception room and out the exit.

"I'LL TAKE THE FIRST INTERVIEW NOW." Jen calls so decisively it cannot be represented with the proper grammar of a comma. The door kind of props open on the amputated stilt leg.

The young man stares, clears his throat, gets up out of his chair--

And promptly leaves the office as quickly as possible to seek out new prospects.

So. Looks like Ruth's up!

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth Aldine's going on an adventure, yes she is. She knows how this will go - in a less detailed way than she usually lets on, of course, but there's a reason she sent in this resume and no others for the first five.

(Ruth's resume was somewhat generalized but so, too, were her studies, including private lessons at an upstate residentail institution.)

She enters the law office, just at the right amount of time. She is carrying a leatherbound folder and a pretty short white cane in one hand. Her outfit is a completely boring mid-tier off the rack women's business suit that has sharp shoulders. Underneath it she is wearing what looks to be a houndstooth piece of fabric, cut thin and knotted into a pussybow.

She is wearing the same fabric over her eyes. "Thank you, sorry," Ruth said then, as she entered the room... to wait.

"Evening," Ruth remarked to the other person waiting. She said nothing else.

The door opens. Some kind of presence passes by. Ruth can smell smoke and metal, which seems to visibly energize her but in a completely different way from the gentleman who simply dips, which is when Ruth's grin gets big enough to show her teeth to nobody in particular.

She gets up and walks into the room with her leather folder alone, whoops. But she's confident in where she's going.

ENTER: THE BLINDFOLD

"Next week," is the first thing Ruth says before getting into a practiced smile and a completely generic sentence: "Thank you for taking the time to interview with me, ma'am! I can tell you're having a long day, so, please, I really appreciate it all the same." Still grinning in a way that may come off as smug, Ruth advances to extend a hand.

She attempts to return the handshake with decisive vigor.

She is definitely gonna lose that one.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
There Jennifer Walters is, head slumped against green palms, her hair a big poof of failure that was once a full and fabulous blowout. To her credit, she is a -professional-, with many years of experience in dealing with Surprise Stilt-Man Assaults.

Still, some days just hit harder than others, y'know?

Not like, literally. But. You get it.

But she -is- a professional, which means that by the time Ruth is stepping through the door, Jen is putting her best foot forward. She sets her palms flat on the desk, and looks up with a winning smile that could distract -anyone- from the fashion ruin--

--And finds herself looking eye-to-eye with a fetching houndstooth blindfold.

A second passes. She-Hulk's lips purse in confusion. But not at -that-.

"... Next week?"

The narrative moves smoothly on towards a stock greeting, however, and Jen doesn't challenge it, too busy feeling a mix of grateful that her fashion faux pas isn't going to necessarily be an issue, and wondering if she's a terrible person for even thinking that.

These thoughts - and more! - are racing through her head by the time Ruth offers that hand, grinning. It's a bit of an off-putting grin. Jen can't quite decide if it's self-confident or smarmy. It's a real thin line.

"--Is it that easy to tell?" she wonders in that self-effacing-yet-self-confident way that She-Hulk is so good at, grinning a lop-sided grin of her own. "It's just..."

FLASHBACKS OF SHE-HULK THROWING STILT-MAN ALL THE WAY TO NEW YORK HARBOR

"-- out-of-court grievances. Can't make everyone happy." Oh god, she thinks. She can probably smell me. I must smell like a catastrophe!

She stuffs that errant thought deep down into the bowels of her mind before she half-rises from that seat and takes Ruth's hand in her much larger grasp. Ruth goes for vigor. Jen goes for being delicate.

The result is her, pumping Ruth's hand with about two times the crisp professional vigor of Ruth's. It's not Ruth's fault. That's just the power of gamma.

"Jennifer Walters," she greets. "And you must be my fiiiiiirrrr"

here, She-Hulk leans to the side where Stilt-Man's severed mechanical limb props the door open just enough for her to spy the row of very empty seats.

"rrrronnnly interview today? ... Huh." Jen's lips scrunch a bit. She sighs. And then: smiles! Professionalism! "Ruth Aldine, right? Lemme just get your resume -- you make yourself comfortable. D'you need any help, or?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth keeps smiling. It loses some of its joie de vivre as, perhaps, she remembers the fate of all flesh or something, possibly due to her hand being gently pulped. Even so, it's a squish, not an actual "sound effect written in letters made out of blood" pulping. She flexes her fingers once, and it's fine.

Ruth pops a six-inch squat as the Stilt Man limb closes nearby. It wouldn't have hit her but it might have stired her hair. "Oh, no, I'm fine," Ruth continues. "It's kind of you to ask, though, yes, here," she says, holding out the folder and flipping it open.

It is a nice leather folder! It probably cost like fourteen bucks! It's a kind of dark jadeite green. The resume inside has been recently printed on generously silky paper. (Ruth sits down afterwards.)

RUTH ALDINE'S RESUME, ABRIDGED:

EDUCATION

XAVIER INSTITUTE etc. etc. - 2017-2020

* Earned recognized high school diploma one term early, average GPA 3.5
* Coursework included algebra, Spanish, history, other high school subjects

XAVIER INSTITUTE etc. etc. - 2021-PRESENT

* Part-time study through X.I. partnership w/ regional universities.
* Key topics included logic and philosophy, American history to 1750, tensor math
* Served on Student Government Association (member), Inclusive Design Working Group (treasurer), Williams Street Appreciation Society (founding member)

WORK HISTORY

XAVIER INSTITUTE WILLIAMS STREET APPRECIATION SOCIETY 2022-Present
Founding Member (non-paid)

* Participated in organization and drafting of articles of incorporation and governance
* Led groups of up to 10 in cultural viewing and observation
* Facilitated "next morning" discussion groups; topics included media criticism and cultural exchange
* Negotiated access agreements for society activities with local stakeholders

RUTH HERSELF

"When you came in, I thought you might have been in a car accident or something," Ruth says, with a sort of studied innocence. "I suppose the, no, subway gets that way now and again."

Jennifer Walters has posed:
A green folder is presented and opened. -Dark jadeite- green, but still!

"Nice folder," is Jen's off-handed comment, because hey, it's probably coincidence.

And even if not -- it's the most formal form of flattery Jen's received in recent memory.

Settling back into her seat, Jen crosses one green leg over the other, the ragged disrepair of her outfit completely forgotten as she pours through the silky-smooth contents of that fresh CV. Green knuckles rap gently against the paper surface as the Gamma Green Gal comes across a familiar reference.

"Xavier's, huh," she exhales thoughtfully, that hand coming up to cup her chin.

"Hmmm."

She's still looking it over (she's taken a second to squint at 'Williams Street Appreciation Society' because it just looks so darn familiar--) as Ruth cuts through the silence with that guileless observation. Bright green eyes shutter out a blink as the younger woman's words finally sink in.

"Wha--? Oh, no, I walk to work. It's not too far from home. Besides, I don't own a car," she remarks. "I mean. I did. But--"

FLASHBACKS TO JEN WEEPING OVER THE REMAINS OF HER ADORABLE PURPLE MINI COOP WHILE TITANIA LAUGHS AT HER MISFORTUNE

"--some people just want to watch the world burn, Ms. Aldine," Jen finishes, full of grim finality.

"This was just... a little squabble with an old acquaintance. It happens sometimes, here. You get used to it." Jennifer attempts to laugh it off. It's a -slightly awkward- laugh. Like. Only a -little- forced. She should probably go into the potential downsides of working for her, shouldn't she? On the other hand, this is her only applicant.

...

That can wait.

"Looks like you've been keeping pretty busy at school here. I'm not seeing many legal fields here; looking to branch out?" Jen looks up, regarding Ruth and her diminished smile with quiet curiosity. "... well, how about we start at the beginning? What're you hoping to get out of this experience, Ms. Aldine?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"Oh, it must be great exercise," Ruth answers the preliminary banter, and she smiles a little more at the delay. She folds her hands on one knee.

A WHILE AGO, DEEP WITHIN

Ruth only really knows the idea abstractly, but it's a lot like you were sitting in a well lit little alcove surrounded by great big gulfs and sometimes there's a sudden torrent of quicksilver and the torrent in this case showed Ruth a sensory image underlaying the schematic abstraction of the location: a courtroom. A place. A small but honored position. She has a pen with the legal pad, because it was on the table in front of her, even if she's been using a battered smart-brailler to record everything because the one she had at home was gone by Christmas '23 and they'd gotten her the smart one to replace it because it let them swim around the big cold rock and she drops the pen and it bounces twice, tap tap, and then it lands. They'd put the pen there because it was habit, not to be polite. But that doesn't matter. The pen's on the ground now, and quietly enough that it didn't make any kind of a disruption.

Seven minutes later, somebody slips on it. Just a little. It is enough.

HERE, OUTSIDE (BUT STILL INSIDE)

"I mean to a certain extent, ma'am," Ruth says. "I know it's a rewarding career even if it's a challenge, especially if you want to break into the higher ranks and get admitted to the Bar."

A pause.

Her head tilts downwards.

She is quiet long enough it might be a little awkward.

"Well," Ruth continues, raising her head up again, "it seems like a place where you can do the most good, ultimately. If you look at it by percentages. There's so much stuff that comes down to laws and rulings and cases, one way or another. I don't know if it's always been that way, but if I had to pick just one place where you'd be in the position to"

IN THAT STILL AND SILENT PLACE.

It is enough...

FOR A PERSON IN THAT COURTROOM TO DIE.

BACK HERE

"make a difference, even if it's not perfect," Ruth concludes.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Ruth is quiet.

"Uh, d'you need a mi-" Well "oh okay don't mind me go get it girl."

It's awkward.

Setting that resume down on her desktop, Jennifer Walters listens to Ruth Aldine's answer. And as she does, she finds herself leaning forward in quiet interest, taken with the young woman's echoing of -exactly- her own feelings about her job. It feels satisfying, to see someone else who wants to better society by battering the law into shape -- who sees the good that someone in the field of law can do -- who knows how fulfilling the job can be!

Elbows on her desk, chin perched on palms, Jen Walters sighs and smiles a big dumb smile, oblivious to faraway prophecies of death and doom and pens.

Wow. What a good kid!

"You're right," Jen finally says, clearing her throat and leaning back into her chair just a bit. Her fingers steeple together over her desk. She looks very powerful. Very professional. Very partially blown-up. "It's why I went into law to begin with, actually. And lost half my mind at UCLA for!" Insert canned laugh -- h e r e . "Ha ha ha!" Nailed it.

"I mean it's great, very rewarding. Honestly. Even with all my" how do you phrase 'being on multiple superhero teams' or 'regularly has to tango with gods and mole mens' "side work" sure okay "this is really where I feel I can make the most difference. And I'd be more than happy to show you the ropes, if this ends up being a good fit for you."

But she's getting ahead of herself. Job interviews. She always hated them. Being on the other side of the equation also isn't very fun. But she can at least try to make it engaging for -Ruth-. Which is why she asks,

"So, tell me about this William Street Appreciation Society. It sounds kinda familiar. Walk me through it."

to engage her interests, and not at all because it's quietly driving Jennifer mad.

Ruth Aldine has posed:
'And lost my mind at UCLA for!'

"Oh," says Ruth, thinking of an electric chair, "I know just what you mean."

Tacit psychic surveys read the room. In her heart, the mostly-intact mirror-girl that is Ruth Aldine nods. This is going well. Yup. But there's fog ahead. What's up with that? Well, play the game and find out.

"Ah-h," Ruth says.

Then, "We-ell."

She smiles a little more then, and says, "So the thing you have to know, sorry, is that place I studied is a residential school, so we had a lot of democracy going on. A lot of the people there also tend to stick around once they graduate high school, since often it's hard out there in the whole Luthor economy (I heard that one in the Bugle) and everything, and we have a private - what do you call it, sorry - it's got money, is what I'm saying."

"So a lot of us graduated from high school and didn't go back where we came from," Ruth continues. "I lost my - I mean to say I spent a lot of early years with my aunt but it wasn't something she could sustain when I was growing up. We both knew that. Anyway, we had the same facilities, since it's not like you grow horns and fangs when you graduate from high school, but a few of us who came up together, we thought we ought to figure out a way to amend the rules."

"About television access," Ruth continues. "We all liked those dumb shows late at night. You can have 'em online but it's not the same, and it didn't really work out. So what we had to do here -- we had a little exploding temper but we all sort of got that there has to be some cooperation - was work out ways where we could do that without corruptin' the underclassmen with the stuff on Metalocalypse and Aqua Teens, teaching them about the Robot Devil and such."

Ruth raises her hands a little. "So the thing is we got a little rank on us pulled, so if we were going to call ourselves a cultural society we'd have to do something about it, like, learn and talk and so on. We had to write papers, though the benefit of that close knit thing is, we all basically got a free ride through a media elective language thing they spun up next block. If you were gonna get the 11 PM shows and hang out with the creeps, you had to do the culture talk afterwards. I skipped a couple of those but not too many."

"But that was more the first year, or a little less. Nowadays it's pretty informal, but that's just the school culture shifting. Least they're not on the socials," Ruth concludes, even if that's a kind of old-timey way to put it.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
The place that she studied, Ruth begins, and Jen quietly ruminates as her potential paralegal gives her the rundown. Xavier's. She's heard a little about it; more than a little, really. Even besides Xavier himself, there's a huge number of high profile individuals part of the school's alumni -and- faculty. Like a baker's dozen of billionaires.

Jennifer smiles at her very funny internal joke before offering an easy-going, "Don't worry, I know what you mean," around the point Ruth starts talking about the well-funded nature of the Institute.

Still, as Ruth continues, Jennifer's thoughts drift from the peculiar nature of the Institute to Ruth herself. She's got a unique way of speaking, between those dated turns of phrase to the little words of agreement and apology that seem to punctuate her thoughts. Jen tilts her head, her green features gentling fractionally into a smile more fond than anything as Ruth talks about the intricate system she and her friends assembled over the school television.

"Look at you," she says. "Now that's some clever thinking there--"

And then her brows just -shoot up- and somewhere around 'Robot Devil' Jennifer Walters is shooting out of her seat and proclaiming,

"Oh crap I know what Williams Street is now!"

        A MORE INVOLVED FLASHBACK

JENNIFER WALTERS, pre-glamazonification, snort-laughs so hard she spits out a mouthful of pot brownie, her entire face alight with enthusiasm as the glow of a late night viewing of Sealab 2021 in her dorm room reflects in her big, circular glasses.

"BIZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAROOOOO! HAHAHAHA!"

Her dorm mate, Joanna Lee, scoots about three feet further away from her and the pot brownie ground zero.

"This. This is why we can never get boys in here, Jen."

        NOW

"Those shows were the only things that kept me sane in pre-law!"

dubious

A second passes. And Jen realizes: wait, she watched those when she was a kid. What if Ruth is watching them ironically? What if Jen just -gave away her age-?

oh god sealab 2021's premise is now exactly three years out of date

Jennifer Walters slumps back in her seat, having defeated herself. She clears her throat awkwardly.

"I mean. Besides all the other normal, totally awesome college stuff I did." <FLASHBACK CONTENT NOT FOUND> "... Still. You've got good taste."

Still. Solidarity grows even in the face of acknowledging her teenage years are far behind her. This, here, is a kindred spirit, sort of. Her grin persists because of that, at least up until the end of Ruth's final thought.

'The socials,' Ruth says.

'The socials?' Jen mouths, bamboozled.

"A-hem," continues She-Hulk, "hat's off to you, Ms. Aldine. That's some pretty creative thinking. Not exactly what I normally see in a resume, I admit," she would die before she admitted to her college shames "but -- I appreciate the gumption." A second passes. And Jen considers.

"Well, as I see it, I've got maaaybe two more questions for you. First -- being a paralegal is pretty demanding work. You'll be my first and only for this law firm, but I'm prepared to give you competitive rates if you're prepared to tackle the workload. I won't ask anything more of you than I ask of myself, and we can ease you into things as you get a handle for the job and its requirements, but... it's still gonna be a lot of work. Especially because some of my clientele can get..." Jen squints, trying to think of the best way to put this. ... Better to just be honest about it. Right?

"... superhuman-y. Guys in supersuits. People bitten by radioactive animals. Maybe even some X-people, if I get so lucky. I'm pretty sure I've got at least one Sorcerer Supreme of one of those weirdo dimensions in my rolodex..." Her sentence trails. Jen shakes her head.

"I guess what I'm asking is: d'you think you can handle that?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"It's funny how you start sensing patterns in things like all that stuff they put out," Ruth says. "Twelve ounce mouse was the key."

A sentence never spoken before, or since.

Then she nods once, and she smiles.

(Thank god, Ruth thinks to herself. I knew my complete and total lack of any kind of employment history was going to be a struggle. What are the odds? And now I'm on my way. And I'll end up employable along the way.)

"I might need a little easing in," Ruth says, "just to get the flow, since I know there's a lot of things to do and I have to learn how to do them right."

PREVIEW OF THE FUTURE:

Ruth sits in a chair previously occupied by a paralegal for nine years. As her butt senses the psychic echoes within, she cracks her knuckles and reaches for the big stack of paperwork.

REVIEW OF THE PRESENT:

"... Oh, goodness," Ruth says, after a pause of several seconds. "I thought most of that stuff was just made up." Hm, that's not very convincing. She keeps going, perhaps sensing the inadequacy of this statement. "You mean there's real magicians out there? I heard about Thor, but I figured - I mean-"

Ruth shrugs her shoulders. "He's like a god or something, isn't he?"

"I think those people deserve their legal rights as much as anyone else," she concludes. "Maybe more so."

A beat or two.

"... So is it more for the good guys, or -- I know that's probably not the right term, but --?"

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"A pattern? Really? I was pretty hhhhhiii--ectic with law school work so I never really noticed. But I -loved- that one show, H"<CONTENT CUT DUE TO MULTIVERSAL COPYYRIGHT VIOLATIONS>"man, Attorney at Law!"

Jennifer Walters slowly glances sidelong before her gaze drags back to Ruth with a beaming smile.

It's one of those smiles you can just -hear- in a person's voice. Jen is just that exuberant a person. Must be all that gregarious gamma.

"Don't worry, Ms. Aldine. This work might seem daunting at first, but once you get into the rhythm, it can be pretty exhilarating." A beat passes. "Especially if you have to brawl M.O.D.O.K. in front of the court steps. But don't worry, we'll ease you into that too!" Jen grins, indicating this is a joke. Then she remembers the blindfold. And awkward second's worth of breeze brushes by in utter silence.

"--That was a joke. I'm not going to risk my employee's life. Please do not ever fight M.O.D.O.K., he's designed only for killing."

There. Got _that_ covered. Phew!

Still, it segues neatly into Ruth's questions about the nature of their clientele, at least, which was clearly Jen's plan this whole time and not a convenient caveat of the metatext's narration at all and if you think otherwise hey, shut up! The -point- is, when Jen lays down that first condition and question, Ruth's initial response is... well, it's not very convincing. She blinks, she squints.

"You thought it was made up?" echoes the nigh-seven foot green giant who obtained the power to toss mountains thanks to the wonders of radiation poisoning instead of dying from it. Incredulity tinges the fringes of her voice. But fortunately, Ruth keeps going!

"Oh! Yeah! Magic is definitely real." So -that's- what Ruth meant! "There's a whole Sorcerer Supreme and everything. And one for a bunch of other dimensions. We've had a few landmark cases involving sorcery law lately but it's still a pretty untouched field. Sometimes I take cases involving it."

Her stare is a distant, faraway thing; again, this is a thing that can easily be intuited in her haunted tone.

"... It... usually gets pretty weird."

...

"Anyway! I get what you're asking. Technically it could be anyone - even supervillains are legally entitled to representation - but one of the nice things about running your own practice is you get to choose the cases you take on and the ones you don't. I'm not obligated to represent anyone I don't want to." She's her own boss, baby! Jen smiles smugly at this, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms behind the back of her head. Her chair wheels back just a little bit, but it's okay -- she's had all the furniture here made special.

She goes through furnishing too fast as it is.

"I will say, though -- while I was working at Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg & Holliway, the partners were eager to take up any and all superhuman law because it was such fresh, rife territory, y'know? And that meant I ended up working more than a few cases I really didn't want to work, but... it was also a bit eye-opening, too. I've got a real kneejerk reflex about these situations -- a lot of superheroes are my friends, after all. I'm even a member of the Avengers! Technically! ... But things are a lot more complicated than superhero and supervillain, sometimes. God forbid there's ever any kind of conflict between superhero teams that requires legal action!"

Jennifer Walters stares, flatly, in some distant direction for five whole seconds before she continues.

"Let me ask you: would it bother you, representing the bad guys?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth is quiet for a few moments, and then she smiles again. Maybe she knew it was a joke. "I promise I won't try to fight MODOK, Miss Walters."

That was a weirdly KNOWING sort of statement.

Folding her hands on her knee, Ruth says, "I mean, I don't really know a lot of it, to be honest. I'd figured the stuff about magic was mostly made up because if magic was real, why aren't magicians in charge of - no - in charge of the world?" Her lips purse. "But I suppose that just means I was wrong."

This seems less ironic. (In truth, Ruth had never much plumbed the topic, since it's not as if she'd had a shortage of problems. Given everything, she might be forgiven for mistaking the occasional glimpse of Magic - or perhaps, Magik - in the sight of the mind for just more mutant powers.)

"Oh goodness, have you met, sorry, met Tony Stark?" Ruth asks, with guileless curiosity.

After this she listens.

"I think there are a couple that might be difficult," Ruth says. "I don't know what the rules are, but I won't deny such a possibility." Ruth leans back and tilts her head back, which would look like she's staring at the ceiling but she's obviously... not?

"But I think they're the bad ones. The really deep down, bone bad ones. Someone who robbed banks, or things like that, or just tore up buildings, I wouldn't have any trouble with that. I suppose it is difficult to think about since, sorry, I suppose I've had to deal with, no, deal with prejudice sometimes, and I think most of the worst things in the world come from it."

Ruth is quiet after that. She shifts. She straightens back up, as if something had been slipping.

"sorry, but," she kind-of-blurts, "May I ask you a question, Miss Walters?"

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"Good," Jennifer Walters says out loud.

. o O (That was a... weirdly knowing... sort of statement,) Jennifer Walters thinks to herself.

"Oh, who knows. Every time I talk to a wizard they talk about how they have rules and they have to pay a ~terrible price~ for their arcane arts and yadda yadda while they're conjuring piles of gold out of Great Value spam or whatever." Here, She-Hulk spins a wrist in a 'whoop-dee-doo' fashion; not much of a believer in the Cost of Magic, is Jen Walters. She's pretty sure it's just something they have to say so they don't have to inevitably deal with her nagging them for magical outfits THAT CAN NEVER BE DESTROYED BY AGGRO STILT-MANS GOD _DAMMIT_ WILBUR

m o v i n g    o n . . .

Jennifer's internal rage settles (as does the timely, sudden sparking of that severed stilt) enough to listen to Ruth's answer without interruption. ("I have, and he's _exactly_ how you think he is," she does briefly interject on the subject of you-know-who.) Her expression softens in sympathy as Ruth talks about her personal experience grappling with prejudice. She assumes because of Ruth's blindness; it must be hard, she thinks, especially in a city like New York.

"Yeah. ... Yeah. I hear you, Ms. Aldine," she finally says, sincerity lacing her voice. "Sometimes people don't want to think about why they react negatively to something. They just want to lash out at it so they don't have to keep thinking about it." One green finger taps against the back of its opposing hand, once, twice, thrice. Jen's head tilts.

"I can tell you this much: this place is meant to be a friendly place for anyone who's different. That's not just my policy -- the building owner, Sharon King, is a mutant who set this space up for superpowered people to be able to live or operate businesses in peace. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find space that'll accommodate superhumans -- much less affordable ones. Much less in New York! I mean--"

sorry, but,

"Huh ohmigosh was I starting a rant??"

Ruth continues. Jen blinks.

"Huh? Oh, of course. What do you want to ask?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"At least they get the choice to pay, I suppose," Ruth says, as Jen Walters speaks of wizzards and their wizzarding ways. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, ignoring, perhaps, the smell of burnt stilt.

"Oh, goodness, I understand completely what, sorry, you mean about the rent," Ruth says. "I don't really want to leave the house in any kind of a hurry, I mean the, sorry, the institute where I study, but I sniffed around for prices, and oh my god. I have never had so much such money in my life."

Perhaps that will change. "I could tell it was laid out nicely on the way in," Ruth says. "Even if this doesn't work out, please tell Miss King that I appreciate her building very much."

But there is a question.

"Have you ever, sorry, had a client who, no, a client who had a, I mean to say that you knew that they were guilty." A beat. "I don't mean legally. I understand there are legal aspects. If the police do something awful and the accused goes free then that's the fault of the police. I, sorry, I got mixed up."

Another beat.

"Have you ever (no, no) had a client where you knew they were guilty but you - hmm-m - I suppose what I'm trying to say, sorry, is, what do you think about the, that is, about capital punishment?"

There'd been tension in the visible part of her face (around the lips and the chin) but it fades after she finally completes the sentence. She leans back a bit in the chair afterwards.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"I have, the most -amazing- condo. So many rooms. Walk-in closet. Full of clothes. It's heaven on Earth. But it's my friend's. She just kind of gave it to me and forgot about it. If it weren't for that, I'd probably be living in a tiny one bedroom that was just filled with my shoes."

Jen pauses. She scratches her cheek.

"Am I bragging? I feel like I might be bragging. Sorry! I just mean I've been very fortunate but -- stick with me. If you ever need, I can get you some primo connections and make sure you land somewhere nice."

Well. At least that sounds good for Ruth's prospects in getting hired, right? Right!

Really -- Jennifer seems, by tone and content, to be taking a shine to Ruth already. And she is! Ruth's polite, she has great taste in late night programming, she's probably not judging Jennifer for her shoe count, and she's just the right amount of quirky that Jen just _likes_.

"I'll be sure to tell her," everyone's favorite gamma-irradiated gal says with a lopsided smile. "I bet she'll be delighted. She loves praise. Especially when I'm not buttering her up for rent negotiation."

But, the question. At first, Jen says, "Ah." Because it just makes sense. She must feel uncertain about representing guilty parties. So Jen begins with a measured, "Well... I have. But that's the thing about attorney-client privilege. I can't just waive it once I know my client's guilty and... ah?"

This second "ah" is more confused as Ruth continues. Her head tilts, slightly frazzled hair spilling over her right shoulder. Her brows furrow in quiet thought as she watches the tension rise and fall across Ruth's jawline and knot and unknot at her lips.

As Ruth leans back, Jennifer leans forward.

"Mm," exhales the green glamazon. "I can't say I'm a fan of it. But sometimes you meet someone, someone so vile and unrepentant and horrific and it makes you think..."

She shakes her head.

"... I don't know. I just know I'd fight like hell to keep a client from being subjected to it, if I could, because it's my job." Her expression turns towards the apologetic.

"Sorry. I know that's not much of an answer. But like I said -- at least one of the benefits of running your own practice is that you get to decide your clients. It's a big one, for me." She watches Ruth for a second.

"Any particular reason you needed to know?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
The news of the condo got a smile (after an incredulous look - it was clear enough despite 40% of Ruth's face being covered by her, well, blindfold, that her opinion was: Now that's friendship) but it is not really time for smiles.

Ruth lets her head loll forwards. She picks at her fingernails for several moments.

Don't lie at a job interview, she reminds herself silently. They can tell.

Ruth takes a deep breath.

"I made a lot of strain for my family just being the way I am and the long and the short of it Miss Walters is that my brother got lethal injection because he killed my momma with a chain saw," Ruth says, head tilted forwards. "I was there to be the closure and I know I suppose I didn't experience it the way you expect it but it was, sorry, it was awful and I felt I had to be there but I would've rather been just about absolutely anywhere else and I don't guess it's forgiveness or anything but I suppose I'm against the death penalty just as a general rule."

Deep breath.

"Sorry," she says. "Sorry, it's, oversharing."

Her head comes back up.

"So even if it's the most evil man in the world, I'd be glad as hell to keep them out of, hah, I want to say the chair but they don't use that, do they? They didn't for Luca, no, sorry, whew. I never actually said this in so many words aloud, so thank you, Miss Walters," Ruth -- concludes. is she done.

She is not done. "I suppose you could say in a way it would be crueler, wouldn't it? But I imagine you're hunting for the good part, so even if they're in prison or something, it's, I don't know, it's only a while, not forever. I suppose I'm just supposing, haha."

"I suppose it's not a factor in civil trials or anything either. Is there also civil trials in your practice? Property stuff, trusts and such?" It's hard to say if she's *BACK TO NORMAL* but the cloud, at least, came in, overshadowed the sun, and then left.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Any particular reason? asked Jen.

It turns out, Ruth had a very particular reason.

She starts in. And as she does, Jennifer Walters' eyes widen like a shot at the immediate punch of horror that was Ruth Aldine's childhood. Fingers lift to her mouth to cover it as she suppresses a small gasp. Jen is a creature of passions -- she doesn't hide much from the world, since her gamma radiated makeover.

The shock and sadness and confusion are all naked on her face, but she has not a word to even dare try to interrupt Ruth with as the blindfolded young woman works through all of her feelings -- as she offers a frankly -very- honest answer. Jen can imagine how most interviewers would respond. A polite, obligatory show of sympathy, before a polite, obligatory show of the door. Oversharing, they'd call it, a sentiment that Ruth reflects just at that same time.

The great green law diva draws in a slow, steadying breath and shuts her eyes. She knows how most interviewers would respond.

"No," she says instead. "It's not oversharing. I asked. It's... I'm sorry, that you had to dredge all that up, Ms. Aldine. You're right. I've seen a lethal injection before. I think taking that step -- it's an overstep of a huge magnitude. I don't think we have that right."

It presumes too much. ... But maybe that's naive of her. Maybe that's why she loves being a superhero. To be able to make determinations like that outside of the law. ... Maybe she's a hypocrite.

But that doesn't matter right now. Right now, what matters is that as Ruth continues, Jen rises slowly out of her seat with the slightest creak of the chair. The click-click of her heels as she maneuvers around her desk is a muted undercurrent to Ruth's questions, until she's close enough that the young woman will be able feel the body heat of her proximity.

"Ms. Aldine, could you stand up for just a sec?"

She'll wait. And if Ruth does...

... she'll find herself wrapped up in a hug.

Those arms are strong, but they're gentle. Jennifer Walters is very obviously much taller than Ruth, but she is supportive. She's a warm pillar, for Ruth to lean on.

She's silent, for a long time. And then, her voice a murmur:

"we do civil trials. it's a lot of paperwork. super people are surprisingly litigious."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Maybe this was always how it was going to go. She was going to go to the job interview and end up the only candidate, and then she was going to cut herself open and bleed something that isn't even entirely blood -- metaphorically speaking. Something in the back of Ruth's head jitters and jangles, but it's settling. It was getting riled up, but it's settling.

She can see Luca coming for her back then just as well as she can see what's happening now. Better, in fact. She can hear Jen and she can feel where she's going and she says quietly, "I'm glad to hear that, ma'am."

Then she's asked to stand up.

Ruth rises with an attitude much like she's being called up in court (appropriately enough) and a moment later she is embraced and Ruth makes a little "mmghf" sound just from the surprise -- because it was a surprise.

She's smiling even if nobody can see.

Ruth doesn't quite hug back. She's pretty thin, even if she's gotten at least basic physical fitness in order. But she does tilt her head, and she says, "Thanks. Sorry. It's a lot. Guess it's - hnf - an origin story that explains it, huh?"

Why she applied for this job despite a grotesquely deficient resume. (The thing about seeing the future is that when you get there, you become able to see the past as well. Often it's like glass in your face, but sometimes it's like a kaleidoscope.)

Ruth doesn't pull away. Eventually, she -- almost but not quite giggles.

("is it intellectual property stuff? that sounded kinda fun. didn't make any sense, though.")

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"You don't have to apologize, kiddo. For any of this."

She realizes, to some degree, it's a sort of compulsory speech pattern on Ruth's part; this conversation is enough for her to see that.

Her point still stands, despite it. _This_ is nothing that Ruth will ever have to apologize to her for.

Despite the seriousness of it, despite the compassionate and sincere gesture Jennifer offers, she still offers an amused little snort and a smile for Ruth's question. She gives her interviewee a supportive squeeze.

"It does. I'm not sure origin stories are admissible resume material, but to hell with it. There's no editorial to fact check this moment."

Awww.

(wait what)

Brushing _that_ aside, Jennifer moves smoothly into the next subject that sees a supportive hug become a congratulatory one:

"You start on Monday, Ms. Aldine. Be prepared. I think it'll be a normal day, but you never know who might drop in."

Stilt-Man's stilt sparks ominously.

("it's very fun. don't worry; you'll have plenty of time to bone up on it and realize it never makes any sense.")

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"heheh," Ruth chuckles.

The hug changes character.

("i knew those cartoons were going to serve me, no, well one of these days," Ruth says quietly, about how things make sense.)

Once it breaks, she smiles - and the smile threatens to turn back into that grin she had in the waiting room.

"Thank you, Miss Walters. I'll be sure to be here -" There's a brief hitch, and then she starts the sentence over: "I'll be here early."

(That Monday, there will be an unfortunate grease fire in Grand Central Station, where the Metro North train from Harlem goes up to Purdy's station, the stop nearest to a certain school and residential site on Greymalkin Lane. The grease fire will require an abrupt evacuation of the station, although there will be no injuries severe enough to require hospitalization, nor death. Ruth will not be there, because she will be on the 7:07 from Purdy's, not the 7:17 or 8:17 she will take in the future. By the time the grease fire erupts, she will have already transferred to the subways, which are not affected by the grease fire.)

"Should I sign anything, while I'm here?"

(She has a little stamp. It looks like it got made in Japan. It was probably a holiday gift from somebody who travels overseas.)