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Dinners with clients were always a wonderful thing.

Even when the conversation dulled or the opinions clashed, the fact alone that he was able to toss the bill on the company's expense account meant less money coming out of his own pocket and more things to write off when it came to tax season.

So yes, even when everything else went wrong at dinner, it was always a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Which was why when he received a summons from one of his wealthier clients, Rob jumped at the opportunity to meet up in such a circumstance. It would be unseemly to make a wealthy heir (though he supposed heir wasn't even the appropriate term, anymore) stoop so low as to visit the jaded shopping center where their law firm was currently located, so instead Robert decided on one of the local restaurants instead.

The local, expensive, high class restaurant, of course.

Glancing at his wristwatch, he eyed the hour for the tenth or eleventh time since he'd arrived at the steakhouse. He'd intentionally arrived early (one should never have a client wait on them) but arriving before his companion meant actually being forced to wait and as much as he'd rather head to the bar and grab a drink before dinner, he knew he needed his wits about him when dealing with the notorious Chase Black.

So, naturally, he simply stood there and waited.

Even if he had kept him waiting, Robert would never admit to it.

"Mr. Black, good evening. No, I just arrived shortly before you, you're timely as ever."

Handshakes were exchanged and the lawyer expressed his politeness by offering the door for his client. He'd reserved the table in advance - a sign that they had indeed chosen an elegant choice - and hazel eyes scoped out the rooms around them, tables full of men in suits and women in dresses. Himself, he'd brought out one of his nicer suits that he usually took to court. As far as he was concerned, purchasing suits fell along with yet more tax write offs - they were for business use, after all.

The hostess was quick to seat them, providing them with water, bread basket and a menu before leaving them with the comment that their waitress would be with them shortly.

"Yes, let's." Robert finally agreed to the younger man's earlier statement, adjusting the wrinkles from off his trousers as he moved his chair closer towards the table, "It intrigued me to hear that you were already in need of my services again. How can my firm be of use to you?"

His own hand strummed softly against the table, gentle enough that no sounds came of the motion as fingertips pressed and lifted against the tablecloth.

"Acquisitions take less time than, say, inheritance disputes, so I don't see a problem with this."

It came as almost a relief to hear how mundane of a request he had - there was no fight to prepare for, this time, no argument to defend. Simply a process of offering, approval and final transaction. Mentally, he filed away the title Renegade Media, storing the tidbit away for later. He'd have to do his own research in the days to come.

"Have you spoken with any member of their management yet or would the initial contact be coming from my firm?"

Not that he minded contacting - yet another opportunity to dazzle and shine a potential new client, especially if he played his cards right with his talent for first impressions.

The more and more his client continued to talk, the less and less of an easy job it was sounding like for poor Robert Banks.

Why, why had he assumed this could have been an easy task to accomplish?

Instead, the man five years his junior was going on about how, essentially, he wanted to buy out a company whose owner would resist every step of the way and of a partnership he'd formed with someone who didn't even enjoy their relationship (surprise, surprise?) and..... well. Robert found himself drinking himself dry of water in no time at all as he listened to the suggestions the savvy businessman gave him in regards to the task.

If there was one thing that Rob knew about Chase Black, it was that the man certainly got his money's worth out of his lawyers.

The glass found its way back to the table's surface as he cleared his throat. "I see. Well, it sounds as if you've been thorough in your investigation - which I wouldn't have doubted in the slightest, judging by the way you handled your mother's case."

Eyes drifted from his glass up towards the golden gaze of the man staring him down like a wolf sizing up its prey. "Though it appears time may be of the essence before someone else develops similar desires for this company. I'll have my firm on it first thing in the morning, Mr. Black."

He'd heard of Anthemusa and the results of it - any and all lawsuits had been snapped up by the larger firm, leaving the Moore & Banks firm, still fledglings at the time, with no one to represent. Had the music festival happened this year, Rob still wasn't certain that his office would have been able to compete against the larger firms for the spotlight.

After all, they didn't even have their own jingle yet.

It seemed, judging by the size of his client's desire, that Rob would also need to keep the paralegals on staff that he'd hired for the last case Black had brought to him to accomplish. They'd certainly be happy at the opportunity for more money, though Rob couldn't help but wonder just how much more of his soul was being sold to conduct business with one of Destiny City's wealthiest.

His fingers continued to strum along the table as his gaze drifted downwards. He was clearly mulling over the inquiry - did he have any questions? No, not until he'd done his own research on Renegade and the type of man (or corporation) they'd be going up against for this endeavor.

"I'll get back to you on that, once I've got more to work with and we see what we need on your end..." His mind was already racing, ticking off forms in his head and figuring out the appropriate party to call to do some more research on whomever Renegade had on retainer for his law firm, "...Mr. Black. Until then, please rest assured that everything is in the most capable of hands."

“Please, call me Rob. Robert, if you must.”

It was one thing to be addressed in court but at dinner, formality was easy to excuse. Plus, now that he was assuredly signed on for at least a few more months under Black’s payroll, he could use a little lack of formality, for sanity’s sake.

“I’ll shoot you a text or call, if I think of anything. For the time being, though, I'm afraid cutting to the chase so early on in the evening leaves us with nothing but small talk from here.”

Which... actually worked in Robert’s favor. With nothing left to intimidate him with, they were forced to talk about everything and anything else - other than work. Takeovers and angry business owners would simply have to wait until Friday morning at eight, when Robert had time to properly prepare himself and his staff for the assault.

“Worse, even, I'm afraid I don't have much of a social life to share.”

His voice was light, as if possibly jesting, putting on a humble face in front of someone who, quite clearly, had a thriving one in comparison. Fingers casually flipped the menu open, gaze dropping to the script font looking up at him. "Unless you're into worthless cats with unusual birthmarks, but you don't strike me as quite a cat person."

The options were impressive, as far as steakhouse varieties went. It didn't take long for him to single out at least two choices that suited his need... but he only needed two to decide between, after all.

One hand dipped down into his pocket and fingers found the smooth, cold piece of metal that he was searching for. Pulling the quarter out, he balanced the perfect circle on the end of his thumb as he chose to ignore his dinner partner, tossing a casual, "Excuse me for one moment" to no one in particular.

The coin was tossed and caught, Robert clearly unphased at the thought of randomly flipping a coin in the middle of an elegant restaurant in front of someone who was still arguably a stranger to him. From one hand to the back of the other the quarter traveled, hazel eyes lighting up as his dinner decision revealed itself to him.

"Looks like it'll be the porterhouse," he mused aloud.

“Three? You don't say.”

Not that he imagined a man like Chase Black ever concerned himself with the actual upkeep of animals.

Leaning back in his chair, he watched with half interest as one of the wait staff appeared from out of nowhere to refill his glass, apologizing for the delay in service all the while promising that their waiter would arrive shortly. As he left, Rob continued.

“Bob was acquired by my ex-wife but managed to stay with me through the divorce.” A painful reminder of her history with him, although Rob hadn't had the heart at the time to push against her decision, “I managed to sell him a few times on Craigslist - he's got a peculiar marking on his forehead that people tend to admire - but the damn thing keeps finding his way back.”

It had become almost like a game, really, when Rob and his mangy cat had lived in their previous city. Rob would sell the cat and, in three weeks or less, Bob would reappear on the doorstep acting as if nothing had been amiss. Initially, Rob had been irritable with this change...until he realized how lucrative the scam had become. Scam probably wasn't the right term…..or was it? It certainly hadn't stopped him from making money off the deals; how was it his fault if the new owners couldn't keep the cat from running away?

“Sometimes I wonder just how intelligent those little bastards can be.”

As if on cue for him to finish his thought, the waiter appeared, taking Rob’s dinner and wine order before turning towards his companion.

It was true. Chase Black's family history was laid out like an open book for the lawyer, who had been forced to comb through all the fine details when building a defense for his client's case. He knew at what age Black had lost his father, where most of his assets lay, his mother's fate and - during preparation for the depositions - even drilled the young man with questions pertaining to his late parent's recent death.

A lawyer was like a best friend, only he was less friend and more legally bound to keep secrets from being whispered elsewhere.

If one were to google the name Robert Banks, a person would receive approximately twelve hits. Eight belonged to a cinematographer that shared his name, two would belong to another lawyer located in Memphis, Tennessee and the remaining two websites were his. Well. One was his actual firm's website while the other was in reference to his divorce, which remained on public record whether he liked it or not.

Further digging could provide a history of trials that he participated in but overall, legal jargon aside, there was zilch information concerning the lawyer... who was perfectly content with that public knowledge remaining that way.

"Nothing much to say, sadly, but..." A glass of wine was presented in front of him, Robert happily plucking the glass up and breaking up his words with a sip, "Born and raised up in Maine, ended up going into sales for the first few years out of high school."

The glass was returned to the table, hazel eyes drinking in the man in front of him while the pleasant burn of alcohol slid down his throat. "Met Amy - my ex - through work and she encouraged me to take up law. Guess all of our arguments helped my talent blossom."

His voice had grown wry. "Received my law degree and not long after that, the divorce papers. Figured what better way to celebrate my achievements than in a new city with a new start, right?"

Leaning back in his chair, he couldn't help but grin. "Destiny City. How quaint of a name - who would have thought such a hopeful sounding place would produce more injuries and death than any other city in the region?"

It truly was a lawyer's paradise there and Rob planned to seize the opportunity.