C10 Joana

Pablo blinked, leaning back on the chair so abruptly that again I heard a noise coming from the weapons of the guards behind me. He merely raised his eyes to the men, then stared at me again, sliding those blue and warm eyes all over my torso. I felt hot again.

"No lawyer has ever said that out loud.”

"So I can say that none of them were as good as I am.”

"How long have you been working on this?”

"It doesn't matter," I answered immediately. I was twenty-six years old. It had only been three years since my license at the OAB was approved. Saying that wouldn't give me any credit. Not to mention that being a woman would already be a reason for a sexist to think that I wasn't that good. "You just need to focus on the fact that you will be free from here in a business day if you give me the answers I'm looking for.”

"What would these answers be? "He asked, frowning his thick eyebrows.

"Who killed those people?”

"I don't know.”

"So, that makes you partially innocent," I said right away.

"The other lawyers considered it a quick response to get away from the matter," he said in a cold tone.

"Your body language doesn't tell me you're lying," I considered it again.

Pablo took a look at his own body. Now leaning against the chair, he seemed even more disconcerting than before. The wide shoulders drew attention, but your whole body was a type of physique that you expect to find in athletes. I doubted that the prison offered some gym sessions.

For a long time I had learned about prisoners who worked actively to reduce their sentences, not only in activities carried out inside the prison. There were some who even helped ordinary masons to erect houses, as they were escorted by police officers.

Those men were used in every possible way. I also wouldn't outline any kind of feelings after so many years of abuse and neglect. Pablo even seemed a little more open than I expected.

"And what would I have to do to make you think it was a lie? "He asked, tilting his head.

"Some behavioral addictions," I replied with a shrug. He blinked, still not understanding. "You could scratch some part of your body. You could look away. Lower your head. Bite your lip, or just curl. It could increase or decrease the tone of voice. But, nevertheless, you answered directly. Although I didn't say it wasn't you. So we have an impasse, dear.”

"Are you just a lawyer or a psychologist? "He asked, again diverting the subject, but if he wanted to play, I was willing.

"I'm a bit of both, if necessary.”

"Will you believe it if I said that I have no intention of collaborating?”

"Yes, but according to your brother's request, I have to do everything to get you out of here. Even if you don't want to cooperate, I'll go to the bottom of it. I don't mind. I'll keep doing my job.”

Pablo was silent for a moment, just watching me. I noticed when those warm and beautiful eyes went down my face and neck, then to yours, then to my arms.

Pablo kept watching my hand. I used to wear rings on my four fingers, because I was always physically fighting with someone, and rings helped in the power of a punch. Not to mention that I was always ready to argue with a man in a language they understood.

But that day I had chosen to wear simple and silver rings, nothing like the gold that caught the attention from afar. Pablo was focused on my fingers.

"My last lawyer said that if I didn't say anything minimally close to reality, he would end up having to abandon the case and let me go to court without any defense," said Pablo, and I giggled, because that shit would never happen. A prisoner, even with evidence of his crime, would always have the right to a lawyer. "I knew it was his lame excuse, but even so, he thought he could make me scared enough to collaborate.”

"And did you collaborate? "I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"No," he said, raising his eyes as he threw me a little mean smile. "I said he was shit for wanting to threaten me, considering where I already am and what I am accused of. So he's the one who got scared. Everyone before him used similar tactics, wanting to force me to say what pleased them, but they never came to any conclusion. Many had to give up.”

I knew there was something very serious behind those cloths. A lawyer only gave up a case without evidence, when someone important was involved on the other side of the prosecution. That seemed like the case, if not even the prisoner felt confident enough to give his own version. As some distant relatives used to say: there was a lump in that angu.

"I don't usually use fear as a method of helping my customers," I guaranteed with a bright smile. "Do not even think that I will give up the case if you give me an unsatisfactory answer. I have a great experience in making excuses for every action of my clients.”

I had invented so much shit over those three years to defend my famous clients, that I was even impressed with my ability to dig deep to have any benefit. Pablo just watched me in front of those firm words.

"And do you think I'm innocent? "He asked.

"I'm almost sure of that," I replied sincerely. Pablo shook his head. "I wonder if you've spent so much time in prison that you've even forgotten the truth?”

"I was forced to forget," he confessed, lowering his eyes to the table. Would you be lying or sorry? "It's not an easy kind of life we take in here. A lot cannot be said, considering the eyes and ears on each wall or door crack. Everyone always knows something about the other in here.”

I nibbled my lower lip.

"So you assume you've never said anything for self-preservation?”

Pablo raised his head.

"Yes.”

A small smile grew on my lips.

"So I have a slight suspicion that it's really innocent.”

"What guarantees your suspicion? "He asked in a soft tone, tilting his head slightly. "Just female intuition?”

I giggled mockingly. Of course, deep down I wanted to hit my briefcase on his head. I hated macho men, despite feeling a slight innocence in his words; as if he didn't have the basics about how to speak without hurting someone else's feelings or journey.

I had to remember that the man was someone who grew up in the countryside and who had been dazzled by life in the capital. He didn't know everything about the world, not as much as he thought.

"Maybe it's just a sixth sense," I replied in a murmured tone.

Pablo's lips bowed in a restrained smile. Something told me that he wasn't really used to smiling or laughing. His look was warm, but there were shadows. There was a difficult past behind that big, broken man.

Hazz had previously told me about his childhood life. He and his middle brother went through situations that the youngest couldn't even imagine. Poverty had been part of their lives for many years. And he was forever marked with that.

There was still the place where he was. Because jail has never left a man without sequelae. It was like facing a war. And Pablo was a soldier still in the middle of the trenches, still fighting for the homeland, and he did not seem to want to give in, although he was already in pieces.

"Do you believe in the sixth sense? "He asked softly.

"It's my favorite movie," I played, giggling. Pablo remained serious, so I realized that he probably never had time to watch the futilities of cinema or television, like me. I cleared my throat. "There's a movie about that, you know? But it's about a boy who sees dead people. About your question, yes, I believe in the sixth sense.”

"What's this movie like? "He asked again, frowning lightly. " Why does the boy see dead people?”

I gestured with my shoulders.

"He has a sensitivity to this kind of thing. Like the mediums.”

"What is that?”

I blinked.

"Do you not know what mediums are?”

"No," said Pablo, shrugging. "My cellmate, Ramirez, rebukes the whole idea of prophets. He says this is not well regarded in the Bible, so I never talk about it. Is it something like that in your favorite movie?”

I giggled awkwardly. I realized that the conversation changed course, I realized that he deliberately made me take a turn on that subject about his family and difficult life. Although it was still a way to get him closer. I got into the game.

"No, it's not something like a premonition, although there are countless movies about it too," I told in a mild tone. Pablo crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching me with full attention. He didn't even blink. "The sixth sense talks about a boy who is bullied and is chased by ghosts. He is attacked by several of these ghosts and some people believe that it's his mother's fault, so a psychiatrist takes care of the boy's case, and something very surprising happens in the end. I can't tell you, it's a spoiler, and you would kill me if you knew.”

"Is it a horror movie? "He asked.

"Kind of," I replied, giggling as I remembered the countless parodies about the said film, which no longer allowed me to feel the same fear as the first time watched. "It's something you need to watch when you leave here. I'll take care of shooting the movie myself.”

Pablo gave a singing smile, very fast, almost like a shadow. So he got serious again, and watched me with those shadows in his beautiful eyes.

Even when he looked at me like that, I always had the impression that he saw more than just my face. It was like rambling about my own essence.

"I can't believe this is going to happen anytime soon.”

" Why not?”

"Because I will never leave this place," he said, so he cleared his throat, lightly rubbing a hand in the direction of his chest. I watched the gesture, and the way he suddenly seemed tired. "Maybe I'm, somehow parallel, very similar to this boy in the movie.”

I arched an eyebrow.

"Do you see dead people?”

Pablo blinked.

"No, but I'm haunted by them, anyway.”

"You're going to get out of here. You just need to tell me the truth "I spoke with a shoulder gesture.

"Two years ago they tried to make me talk about that day," he said, in a conspiratorial tone, although his eyes now remained on the guards. "Something has been happening to my lawyers for two years. Who guarantees that hiring you was a good choice?”

"The guarantee is the fact that the Jones sisters never lose what they are interested in taking for themselves," I replied softly, slightly tense. Pablo watched me more cautiously. "And you, Pablo Sinclair, have just become my biggest personal interest.”