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He wouldn't say anything

Well, he wouldn't saying beyond 'I want my lawyer.'

The words were repeated, spun out. The man in the crisp suit folded his arms across his chest, licked his lower lip and asked for his lawyer. "I get one phone call, right? Call my lawyer." His lifted his handcuffs and placed his wrists on the infront of him, the consumate image of calm.

Azad felt his jaw tick. Of ocurse the right to legal counsel was a fundamental one, but just once--just once--he wanted the ability to revoke that right. No legal counsel. Answer for your actions now. Why hide?

His thumb ran across his chin, rubbing the stubble there. The hair there bristled and protested stubbornly. "Get his lawyer," Azad muttered, swinging around the table to plant his free hand on his waist. His order was directed at the young recruit across the room. A quick nod was followed by an even quicker exit.

And that left Azad alone with mobster.

"Not this time," Azad muttered. "You're going to jail."

The man simply smiled, the gap between his front tooth whistling out his pleasure. A shrug then ran through his shoulders, as if the threat were empty and baseless. Azad felt more tension run through his jaw. He looked at his watch.

How long would it take for the damn lawyer to get here?

Azad wouldn't have much longer to wait. The thug's lawyer had already been inside the building when the order to get him had been issued. As such, he bumped into the recruit out by the front desk. It didn't take long for both sides to realize where they needed to be.

And so, almost to the minute after Azad glanced at his watch, Aras Karahan strode confidently through the dingy-looking door being propped open by his brother's lackey. He, of course, hadn't expected to run into his older sibling anytime soon so he'd begun his standard spiel soon after, before even bothering to acknowledge the other man's presence.

"Alright, I'm here. Time to get this baby rolling."

A slight thud as he dropped his briefcase onto the flimsy table dominating the center of the room.

"My client's employer contacted me. He seems to think that you didn't have probable cause for an arrest so why don't you tell me exactly what my client is being charged with and we can get this dog and pony show over with. I want to get home before --"

At that point, he finally glanced up from rummaging through his papers to take measure of who his opponent was.

"Azad?!"

"Aras."

His tone was frosty.

While his brother was pounding out the speech he'd rehersed (and no doubt repeated a thousand times), Azad had a few seconds to come to grips with the gravity of the situation. His shock had been wiped clean, replaced by the now familiar look of cold disapproval. It didn't take him long to put the peices together: his brother, the hot-shot lawyer, had mob members for clients.

His night just got interesting.

"What are you doing here?"

He wasn't angry, not really. He couldn't be angry at his brother, but the disapproval was there, lined in every word. That, and cautious hope that this was some kind of misunderstanding.

Azad's disposition was contagious. It wasn't long before Aras had assumed the same icy demeanor in facing down his brother. Business was business after all. If Azad and his bleeding heart wanted to get in his way, then he couldn't be held responsible for the consequences. Besides, it wasn't like he could go around pissing off the Russian mob.

The lawyer allowed himself the slightest of smirks.

"I'm here to represent my client. Thought I already covered that."

At that point, the sleazeball in the chair made to say something. Probably a remark about the developing tension between him and his brother. He never got the chance, however, as Aras turned and promptly stared him into submission before focusing in on Azad again.

"What are you doing here?"

A pause.

"This another case of our tax dollars being put to good use?"

The sarcasm was obvious.

It was hard to think of Aras as anything other than…well, Aras.

Azad wasn’t old enough to be the Big Brother figure in their relationship. He wasn’t even old enough to really wield any sort of authority in Aras’ life. They were separated by a year and then a handful of days. It wasn’t enough for Azad to feel responsible over—not like he was responsible for Aliyeh, anyway.

Or so the theory went.

The man in the seat shifted a little, looking to rise. This time, it was Azad who flashed him a look that kept him in place. “Wait here,” he fired, stepping forward to grab Aras by the shoulder. “Come with me.” Seconds later he was leading his brother outside in the empty hallway, his mouth a fine line and his eyes stormy. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, another ugly reminder of the cold, heartless place they were now in.

“What kind of nonsense is this, Aras?” Azad demanded, switching to Turkish and keeping his voice low. “You’re working for scum like that now?” A finger jabbed towards the door, hammering it in the air to draw emphasis towards the man inside the room.

It took Aras the majority of his composure to keep him from making a scene as his older brother dragged him outside. If it had been anyone else... But then, if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have been in this predicament, would he?

There followed a moment where he literally choked down a protest. His mouth had opened but no words came out. Instead, he found himself listening to Azad rant in Turkish. It caused his mouth to fold back into a grin. Really, he didn't think the guy had it in him to be even this little bit of sneaky.

"I don't work for him," the lawyer corrected, also in Turkish, once he was sure that his brother was done. "I work for his employer. A much richer variety of scum."

He narrowed his gaze, returning the vitriol in Azad's eyes. Aras wanted to be perfectly clear that, despite his attempt at a joke, he was deadly serious. He wasn't about to let any one interfere in his business dealings.

"So, if you don't mind, what exactly is your problem with that scum? I want to get this over with so I can get home and catch Leno."