Mr. Law entered the courtroom, and after the heavy doors slowly closed behind him, he made his way to the plaintiff's seat and nodded an apology to the presiding judge sitting at the bench.
"I apologize for my tardiness, Your Honor. Delivering the entire Literary Society to the Soul High Tower took us an immeasurable amount of time, even after the power of 'Justice' had been retracted. Those bastards were like crippled locusts, still causing a ruckus."
Mr. Dark gave a snort, lifting the slipping bandage back onto his face, his eyes filled with irony hidden within the dry layers of fiber.
"Watch your language, Plaintiff. Statements filled with personal grievances will lead the outcome towards the side of disappointment," the presiding judge gently tapped the gavel, thus producing a trembling noise that could make one's head shake. Perhaps it once doubled as a torture device in the adjacent room, Lyle maliciously speculated.
