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Twenty minutes.
Rafael checks his watch, wondering if he’s somehow managed to be Confunded into losing a couple of hours of time without noticing, because it’s ridiculous that such little time has passed since deliberation began.
“Jury’s back,” he tells Amaro and Olivia, and he doesn’t need to see the look on Amaro’s face when he turns and walks off to know exactly what he’s thinking. Rafael’s still incensed that Amaro’s father lied to his face on the stand.
He exhales, and turns to look at Olivia, who just shakes her head.
Time to get this over with.
Rafael deliberately takes his time placing his things back into his briefcase as the courtroom begins to empty. Behind him, he’s acutely aware of Liv coaxing Amaro to leave, and Rafael spares a glance for the defense side, where it seems to be all smiles for Nicolas Amaro.
Goddamn. He could have had this. He could have—six witnesses’ testimonies in contrast with one man’s, and still, the little shred of doubt sown was enough to have the jury in the defense’s corner.
Rafael shuts his briefcase, and mutters a word under his breath. The locks click, and he lifts the briefcase off the table, making his way out of the room.
He heads for the elevator, and checks his phone just as the doors slide shut after him. The magic in the Lower Courts isn’t too saturated so much so that electronics stop working, but it’s always hard to get a signal until he’s out of the building.
The main street is almost deserted today. New York’s magical centre sees a lot of traffic, but on slower days, it’s as if this side of the city is asleep. Rafael is glad he cast that Warming Charm on his coat earlier; the way the wind is blowing against his face, it seems to have a grudge against him. Maybe it’s retribution for losing the case.
He tucks his hands into his pockets, and makes his way across the road to the café that’s there, the little brewery with the wonderful coffee. It’s almost five, and the place is about half-full with regulars and the odd passer-by, popping in to get a hot drink on a cold day.
Rafael’s phone pings as he’s waiting in line. Working late tonight? It’s Carisi.
Paperwork. Need something?
It doesn’t take long for a reply. Nothing. Just wanted to run something by you before I left.
Rafael gets to the front of the line, and places his order before turning back to his phone. It’s telling that he barely takes ten seconds to decide what to type next. Alright. Come by when you get off work. Rafael’s spared from awaiting Carisi’s next message when the witch at the counter hands him his drink, and he thanks her, leaving four Sickles on the counter.
Thanks! comes the reply, and Rafael has to pause to take a swig from his drink, relishing in the warmth it gives. A tinge of Firewhiskey in anything always makes all the difference. Appreciate it.
It’s terrifying how earnest Carisi always is. Rafael sits himself at a table by the window, and tucks his phone back into a pocket. The cold’s beginning to drape itself over the city. Rafael thinks about the office he’s going to have to go back to soon, about the apartment he goes home to at the end of each night, and the way the winter seems to seep through his doors no matter where he goes.
If he has to admit it to himself, he likes having Carisi in his office. It’s been a couple of months since the first time he’d asked for help with his studies, and Rafael has almost grown used to his presence in the quiet room. Carisi will come in, drape his coat over the back of his chair, lean over the table, and look over at Rafael, a query punctuating every other sentence. Surprisingly mature questions, a refreshing point of view. Rafael finds himself enjoying the discussions that take place, even if Carisi does try too hard once in a while.
Rafael ends up returning to the Wizarding Law and Justice Office with two take-away cups that sit on his desk while he works through the rest of the paperwork that he’s got. Being a State Attorney for the Ministry of Magic is fine and good, but mostly it means long hours, a ton of illegible handwriting to get through, and never enough caffeine to sustain his attention.
“When will the Ministry begin investing in computers?” Rafael mutters disdainfully, tossing yet another twenty-inch scroll, covered from top to bottom in chicken scratch. Phones were already a huge issue in the Wizarding World, honestly, Rafael isn’t sure they can take the change yet, even after all these years. “It’s as if nobody in the Ministry knows how to sharpen a quill.”
A throwaway knock on the door. “Get you on that,” comes Carisi’s voice. He’s leaning against the door-frame, watching a random scroll float past him to land neatly on a shelf. “The Auror trainees are just as bad. Evaluations? Pages of writing that make no sense. Fin was ready to knock some heads together the other day.”
“Makes you wonder how schoolteachers last so long,” Rafael nods towards the cups. “One’s for you.”
The corner of Carisi’s mouth quirks upward. “Thanks.” He shuts the door behind him, and steps toward the table, all easy gait and long limbs. Carisi settles himself into his usual chair—when did Rafael begin to consider it his chair?—and motions towards the files spread across Rafael’s desk. “This from today’s case?”
“Not just,” Rafael answers, setting his quill down momentarily to reach for one of the cups. Carisi does the same after the skip of a second, fingers almost brushing Rafael’s. Almost. “A few from earlier in the week. Couple from the last.”
“Dropped in at a bad time, then.”
“No, it’s fine.” Rafael pulls his wand out, and sweeps it over the desk in a long, smooth motion. The papers all stack up neatly, settling themselves into the files they came from. “I needed the distraction.”
Carisi’s watching his wandwork with an impressed gaze. “I still can’t get the hang of that,” he says, taking a sip from his coffee, “also, you’re not the only one. Nick’s still brooding alone downstairs. I don’t blame him.”
“Neither do I, though I do have the feeling that Liv might want to give him a couple of days off.” Rafael leans back in his chair, and observes the slightly upturned collar that Carisi’s sporting, unbuttoned, and the lack of a tie, as if he’d yanked it off without much care.
“Would be good on him,” Carisi agrees, and they fall into silence for a few moments; Rafael pretends to not notice Carisi’s glances towards him over the edge of his cup. “Actually,” Carisi speaks up eventually, “you wanna go get something to eat? I’d rather talk were-law after a couple of bites or two.”
The invitation is cautious. Rafael carefully considers it, with, “Anywhere but the Ministry cafeteria.”
“The pub down the road from the back entrance has food.” Carisi smiles a little wider, and Rafael can feel his resolve beginning to slip. “Dinner and a drink?”
“Good with me.”
They make to leave, but Carisi glances around, and swears under his breath. “Left my coat downstairs. Thought I brought it up with me.”
“Take mine,” Rafael finds himself suggesting, and Carisi blinks at him, “I have another.”
“That’s really nice of you, Counselor.” Carisi takes the proffered coat, fingertips skimming along the fabric, almost touching Rafael’s again. “Thanks,” he says, a little softer, and Rafael can’t help the smile he offers along with it.
“You’re welcome.”
They floo to the Entrance Hall of the Ministry, and Carisi waves a cheerful goodbye to the Aurors on night-shift as well as the receptionist at the back entrance’s counter before they leave. “Linda’s a nice lady,” Carisi explains, when he sees Rafael watching, “she always covers for me when I clock in late.”
The cold night’s air greets them with enthusiasm, blasting through the doors the second they open. Rafael has to cast a couple of very discreet weather-blocking spells, and Carisi shivers a little, tugging the coat around him a little more. It’s a little wide around the shoulders, but the sleeves are riding up, his wrists bare between the cuffs and his gloves.
It’s packed tonight, the little non-magical pub. A basketball match is on, and the crowd only adds to the sweet warmth that hits them upon entrance. Carisi leads them over to an empty table, and once they’ve gotten some food and drinks, and sat down, Rafael asks, “You come here often?”
“That a come-on?” Carisi grins, surprisingly forward for once, and Rafael gives him a look, though he’s unsure if Carisi can tell that he’s flushing under the dim lights. “Nah, not really. Once in a while. You?”
“Couple of times.” It reminds Rafael of the bar he’d used to frequent, back when he was still studying. Pleasantly loud, friendly, constantly crowded. “A scotch or two.”
“After cases?” Carisi nods, leaning back into his seat. “Yeah, I get that. Unwind, and all that.”
Rafael considers his beer bottle for a moment. “You don’t go out with the other Aurors much, do you, Carisi?”
Carisi smiles, though it seems a little forced. “Can’t, more like,” he explains, and Rafael watches his fingers tap along the side of his fork. “Between cases and classes, that’s only—what, five hours of sleep and the rest for assignments and revision and all that?”
Rafael understands. He’s been there. His mother had thought he was insane, at first, attempting to get his Wizarding Law degree and a J.D. at the same time. Rafael hadn’t cared. He’d nearly run himself into the ground trying to take all his classes at once. In the end, he’d done it, but he’d missed out on a lot of things. Things he suddenly doesn’t want Carisi to miss out on, either.
“Still,” Rafael presses, “a night or two won’t hurt. Even Auror Benson, with all her duties as the head of the department, can afford to get a drink with the team once in a while. And look where we are now.”
“Yeah,” Carisi says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself. He adds, jokingly, “Guess if New York’s State Attorney can do it, so can I.”
“Please,” Rafael says, snorting lightly, “who said anything about anyone being up to my standard?”
Carisi laughs, a lively thing that doesn’t seem out of place with their surroundings at all. “Yeah, yeah. No one’s as good as you are.” And the thing is, he sounds sincere saying those words, more sincere than Rafael expected the words to come off.
“Right,” Rafael starts, “so, you wanted to ask something about—were-law, was it?”
Carisi latches onto the change in topic immediately, gaze intense as he launches into a query about the recently passed Werewolf Protection and Agency Act from a few years ago, motioning wildly with his eating utensils whenever Rafael counters his arguments, gesturing pointedly when Rafael tells him something he hadn’t been aware of.
It’s a time-passer, for sure, these conversations with Carisi. Rafael hardly notices the time go by, the same as with all their other sessions. The noise around them never subsides either, creating the illusion that the moon isn’t sinking late into the night, tricking Rafael into spending much more time than he’d originally anticipated.
Someone breaks a glass behind them, sometime into the two hour mark, and that in turn seems to break the moment that they’ve been sharing. Rafael chances a glance at his watch. “Shit,” he mutters, realising that he’d promised a firecall to Michigan’s SA before midnight rang its bell.
“Gotta split?” Carisi pushes his chair back, and motions with his chin. “Should probably make a move, too. There’s a were-law assignment calling my name right now that I should probably get to now, after all of this.”
They make their way out of the pub, back into the freezing cold, and Carisi makes to return Rafael’s jacket, but Rafael stops him. “Return it tomorrow,” he tells Carisi, who looks surprised, “you’re going to catch your death walking back without it.”
“Thanks,” Carisi says, breath coming out in a wisp, catching on his smile. “G’night, Barba. Thanks for the talk.”
“Night, Carisi.”
In the morning, Rafael enters his office to find his navy blue coat folded and placed neatly on his desk.
He smooths a palm over it. It’s warm. It makes him think of the way Carisi had pulled it tight around him yesterday night, keeping the cold off him. And December is almost here, with just a couple of weeks left to go. There’ll be many more cold nights, if the current weather keeps up.
Rafael sets the coat away with a quick wandless levitation spell. It’ll be fine. He can stand the cold, if a few more nights like yesterday’s come along.