[For Kim, a quiet restaurant is a good place to go over paperwork, and that's what put her at a table in the corner furthest from the door. The form she's working on is directly in front of her, with a neat stack of folders to the left and a mostly-untouched plate of nachos to the right. Her coffee is on its third refill; that she isn't jittery over it is a testament to how many late-night espressos have been a part of her former law career.
What does make her jittery, on the other hand, is Saul Goodman standing at the door, looking out the windows like the unprecedented thunderstorm might evaporate with just the right bark into an earpiece. She draws a deep breath and looks back at her papers, but her attention doesn't focus. Not with his silhouette in her peripheral.
At most she can hope that he doesn't notice her, her blonde hair loose and her face turned to the tabletop.]
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What does make her jittery, on the other hand, is Saul Goodman standing at the door, looking out the windows like the unprecedented thunderstorm might evaporate with just the right bark into an earpiece. She draws a deep breath and looks back at her papers, but her attention doesn't focus. Not with his silhouette in her peripheral.
At most she can hope that he doesn't notice her, her blonde hair loose and her face turned to the tabletop.]