Stretching the Metaphor for the Inflexible

It was a late morning New Years eve at the Mount Cubitus Courthouse, something momentous and at the same time expected had occurred, and Tomas Reid is just a bit too bored to care. “Back in my day-” the old Lawyer starts, a big mouth for the reckoning that oh so bright past is facing. He’d say it was raining men for all the three mile drops he’d seen on the social ladder as of late.

But it seemed like the wrong thing to say about his colleagues.

There was something in the world marked against good metaphors, in due part to the literal interpretation of any given phrase. If it were to rain men literally, it would be a metaphorical bloodbath and it would likely be attributed quite offensively to aliens.

That would be dependent on whoever was discussing such an occurrence, but it didn’t help when the metaphor was all together more positive, then the collective fall from grace such a phrase was meant to cover in current times.

Tomas Reid knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t proud of it. Though he’d have to augment his answer depending on the room.

If say, he were in a room full of reporters he would condemn the low morals and lacking ethics of the proven criminals and former employees of the INSC. If he were in a room full of actual members he’d have to piously and politely content himself with a knowing facade of ignorance, as he watched his teammates make excuses for things he’d once shared unquestioning tolerance of.

This was all he could think as a young Natalia Bronson started to hyperventilate, her father Hans Bronson had been sentenced, fifteen to life. It was one body they’d found beneath his mansion, his wife’s, theoretically, they didn’t have a clear identity. His daughter for her part wasn’t taking it well.

He’d have loved to say, “I don’t believe it.” but Tomas Reid had spent way too much of his life as the proverbial toad in the pot to be that ignorant.

He knew the temperature now, and it wasn’t getting cooler anytime soon. He listens to her more than the man and waits out her traumatic response. He saw her on the stand, throughout the proceedings and he knew that the girl wasn’t taking everything too well.

That on top of the season had to be horrible, didn’t it? He was glad that this happened while the common person was farther engaged with seasonal greetings and the preferred year end malaise rather than at a time when it would be served more attention.

He holds her hands when they’re offered, and he doesn't bother to hear her, not really, it was better than the alternative present. And that was enough for Tomas to feel that he’d done his due diligence in regards to the near radioactive fallout that could be attributed to the crimes of Hans Bronson.

It was never going to be too much for someone like Tomas Reid, but he knew that it could be nothing less than devastating for the kid, there’s something that bends about the world when parents fail us.

Whatever was said in those moments would be a secret, or at least unnoticed, and he could make peace with that so long as nothing came of it.

“Hello, Tomas Reid? Do you have anything to say regarding the verdict?”asked Ms. Dawn Dixon.

“I can’t say, everything about this has been more than I’d ever wanted to see”, he said without a thought to his colleagues, he really didn’t care, the disconnect might well be invisible to anyone else, but the rarity of her involvement with the INSC had its own fingerprints.

He could trust nothing, but he couldn’t really be hurt by it either. Besides, he had a party to attend. 

What few loyaltys he held were to his family, and whatever they say about his performance in court or in his work they’d still be more upset if he forwent the party. Leaving for it was something that would take time with the news coverage of the occasion.

It was rare after all that an INSC agent paid for their crimes.

It would eat most of his day, at least it would feel like that but he’d still end up in the multi layer monstrosity his brother bought out in favor of the estate. Tomas was little more than a humanoid bulldozer most days, but even he could see the wasted potential of mordor and glass in the architectural excesses of that skyscraper.

Saying so would have made him out of bounds with their mother so he kept mum about it.

Wayne Reid was the host of this whatever it was, Tomas may’ve been older but he had no real thoughts about the kinds of parties people in his circle hosted, it was his burden really.

It was a bit of dumb luck when he decided to take the elavator instead of the stairs. Especially dumb given his own physical predispositions, but no one expects to be trapped in an elevator. He wasn’t even planning to be unfashionably early, he just didn’t want to take the stairs to an already silly party.

It really wasn’t his day was it?

“I think we’re stuck.” said another person, in the mellow tone of a woman often tasked with the concerns of others. 

“Yeah.” was his only response, He’d honestly not seen her before, a little too short and a little too unassuming for him to appraise, it was more than a little embarrassing to be that unconscious of his surroundings.

Tomas was looking around the box he was now stuck in, he would probably be fine whatever happened, but it was just a liability having someone else there with him. 

“You don’t plan on having some kind of anxious episode right?”, she said, seeing his distress. 

“That’s something you plan?”, He wasn’t used to the feeling, and he really didn’t want to deal with a tragedy while in his civies. 

“People generally have those kinds of fears, at least about elevators,” she smiles a little before setting whatever feeling it was meant to communicate down. “I’m glad the brake systems are working though.”

“I suppose so.” Tomas wasn’t sure of that, while it had stopped unexpectedly he didn’t trust the integrity of the elevator knowing that it had failed even a little.

“It’s going to be very boring if you’re that glib.” 

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” she leaned into the far wall, “I don’t need entertaining yet, but I have no clue when they’ll fix it so I’d rather have somebody to talk to.”

“Really?”

“Yes. What’s so surprising about it?”, she tilts a bit, looking over at him.

“No, it’s just very plain.” 

“Is it?”

“Well not common, just simple.” he wasn’t wording it right, but she seemed good natured.

“What a complement.” 

“I meant it, people usually take this kind of thing as a big deal.”

“And you aren’t?”

“This is just learned behavior. You seem to have it down,” he wanted to remember when he’d seen it last, but it wasn’t an easy thing for him. “I was actually kind of worried by myself.” It was a lie, but it was certainly more comfortable than that odd feeling.