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The Portal Games

Sarah's Promo

'Legal counselor' was not the sort of job description that immediately brought to mind a large-headed, thick-shouldered woman with fangs as long as her fingers and legs capable of stomping a tree into splinters, but that was the sort of woman that Sarah was. Fully certified, fully qualified, and fully dangerous, the T-Rex spent the week filing paperwork, speaking very gently to the judges at the local courthouse - spending a week in a cell on contempt charges for showing too much fang was not an experience that she wanted to repeat - and occasionally doubling as intimidating muscle for some of the younger defense lawyers that were trying to keep mob blame from being shuffled off onto their client in the big trials. Say what you like about the Raptor families, but they knew when they were out-toothed.

However, everyone that had a day job needed a weekend hobby, and Sarah, from the start, had made sure that hers was as far from the office as possible. And if you asked her how far that happened to be, she'd just nod at the parachute that she was, even then, slapping on her back.

"Wait, wait. Ms. Red-Feather, wait!"

That would be one of the clerks from the partners upstairs, she knew. They were always looking for muscle during the weekend cases. Nobody wanted to take them, and she was no exception. She shouldered the parachute pack, lowering her head to nudge her office door open. As the large chunk of shaved bark slid to the side, the little compy - sorry, compsagnathus, as they preferred to be called - clerk sliding along with it. The little guy dug his toe-claws into the wood and climbed over the top, desperately waving a leaf-folder at her.

"Ms. Red-Feather, please, just this once. Mr. Salt-Spitter promises overtime this time!"

"Heh, he can kiss my ass."

"If he did that, he'd be here all week!"

"Then he better get started."

She shrugged, her rigid tail swaying back and forth as she marched down the hall. Her bulk meant that the high-rise corridor creaked and swayed, but no more than it did when old Saul Sore-Foot came through. The ancient ankylosaurus always complained about the stairs, saying that they were murder on his legs. Old sot could have done better to get the old fat pockets removed from his tail, quite honestly.

The clerk followed at her ankles, waving the leaf up at her. He came no higher than her knee, but then again, the little ones never did. They were the shortest official employees in the Salt-Spitter Law Offices, while she stood tallest. Just over eight feet, she had to duck most of the hallways, leaning forward rather than standing upright, and it was never entirely comfortable.

Then again, her kind were never meant to live or work in trees, either.

"It's the weekend. Come on. I clear this every week. I tell him, every Monday, that he's got to get someone else. Get Mr. Clear-Wing for it; he's got an empty schedule."

"But he can't -"

"Oh, he can," Sarah interrupted. "He just doesn't like dealing with the cave court. Just tell him that Sarah said it's his turn, and if he doesn't like it, I'll just have to remind him of the four cases of mine that I let him take credit for. That'll get him."

"But...but..."

Knowing that the clerk had no argument for that, Sarah pushed on. The red feathers on top of her head that lent her the family name flicked against the wooden ceiling, and were impossible not to brush against the doorframe when she finally found the exit.

She paused as she stepped outside. The caws of pterodactyls and pteranodons flitting through the air, the calls of plant-eaters and meat-eaters alike heading down the trees now that work was ending, the grunts and lows of the Old Ones, who grew to the point of losing their minds and returning to nature while growing stronger and taller like their ancestors of old: it was all familiar, and all a reminder that the civilized world was all but going on hold for the weekend.

She breathed in the musk of jungle and scale, of moisture and meat, and was about to take a running leap for the edge of the platform when something caught her eye. Something that hadn't been there before. Sarah cocked her head to the side as she saw a leaf hanging from the platform edge, stitched with writing. She bent over, fumbling with strong but thick fingers until she caught it.

"Insofar as we imply consent to depart with the leaping from the platform, I, the leaper, hereby do - oh, that is assumption of agreement to the highest degree. Hey, who put this here? What's this - hey!"

Holding the leaf contract in hand, she leaned over the edge. Just below where she was about to leap was a black hole in the air, and it opened on a blue hole of water that she had never seen before. Certainly had never been at the base of Mr. Salt-Spitter's tree. She waved the leaf at it.

"I'll have you know serving papers and serving a contract are two different things! Now move so I can get on with my weekend."

The hole in the air shimmered. Sarah dropped the contract, letting it fall through, and reached for her belt. She pulled out a leaf of her own, a sturdy one, and started poking holes through it with one claw.

"Alright, two can play that game. I'm serving you with a restraining order."

The hole pulsed, almost as if shocked. Of course, it would be no good without one of the judges to roar it through, but that didn't mean it couldn't be used to intimidate someone. Hell, it worked on her ex. Creepy stalking bastard, thinking that just because she wasn't dropping eggs every few months -

She had it halfway written before the hole extended tentacles. Sarah blinked, staring as it offered her something that she'd only heard of before: paper.

And it...it had writing on it. A proper contract, she realized, one that wasn't just hole-punched through the sturdier leaves. She took it in hand, her eyes flicking over it, then pausing and going back to the beginning to read it properly, slowly.

Once she understood what it said, she grinned.

"Oh. Well. You should have just said. That's a much better use for my weekend. Who wants a measly overtime check when you can have that?"

Keeping her parachute pulled tight to her back, she resumed her running leap and lunged for the hole in the air below. This was going to be fun.