Halloween...here I come!

Yes, I have my costume. And no, you can't know what it is.

Though I was tempted to revive last years. That was a winner. In more ways than one.

(Because what do you do when struggling with a character? Force story upon them.)

He didn't have time to clean. Sam had only called that morning to say he wanted to come home for the weekend, so Larry had to leave straight from work to go pick him up.

Hence the horrid look on Sam's face when they got home. Sam shook his head at the mess and looked up at his father. "This is disgusting, Dad. Really." He grabbed his overnight bag and went to his room. Larry sighed and went into the living room. As he sat down Sam came out to meet him, after wandering around a bit. Sam came from the kitchen with suspicious eyes in Larry's direction. "You're drinking."

"Not right now, no."

( .... )

It was later in the evening when he dragged himself from bed. He'd been back and forth between napping, watching TV, and working on an opening statement. He went into the kitchen to find something to eat and made his way through the messy apartment. It was looking more and more like a shitty bachelor pad every day. The kind that was never straightened, of course. He felt bad for a moment that she'd actually seen it like that, but the moment left him and he didn't care. It wasn't as though it mattered.

He opened the cabinet for a glass and sighed when he saw it was empty. His eyes scanned the kitchen. Yes, he needed to do the dishes.

He picked up a used glass and rinsed it out, before pouring a scotch. He picked up his cell phone and scanned through until he found a number. As it rang he started loading the dishwasher. When the voicemail went off he cleared his throat. "Hi, uh, this is Larry. Larry Paul. Just returning your call. Wondering if you still wanted to grab a drink. I'll be around if you want to call me back." He hung up and tossed the phone down. He hadn't seen the woman since the night they'd met a couple weeks before, but she'd called. Why not?

After getting the dishwasher started he went into the living room and pulled the record from the record player then gently put it in the sleeve. As he tucked it away, he sighed. He'd gotten a better nights sleep the night before than he had in a very long time.

(This is set for tomorrow, but who knows when I'll be around to post it. So it goes up now. Up to you if you want to go off of this or anything, Em.)

Late in the day near quitting time, a carrier stops by Hawthorne and Milton, more specifically Cora's office, and drops off the following:

A wrapped gift.

A slice of "the best chocolate cake" from that place.

A flower.

And a note card attached to the gift that simply reads:

Have a stunning birthday.

Like every other night since Sam left, Larry worked late into the night. Of course he had more work now than ever, but he was glad of that. It kept him busy. Distracted. And that was better than anything else he'd be getting himself into.

( .... )

There was actually an inner office debate today for an hour about whether or not people are still wanting to help out the PD's or not - much less go anywhere near the courthouse. It's as I told them. I can't force them to help the backlog of cases down there, but they can't be babies and not do their actual jobs. At least only a couple of them are behaving this way. So given their hesitancy and other things, I'm pitching in even more. Why not? It's not like I have anything else to do.

It's bad enough some idiots get their kicks killing cops...but killing lawyers? That's a whole new brand of crazy. Whatever the explanation may be. Makes a guy want to become a librarian or something. Or...drink a little more.

( Private )

Larry dropped the pen he'd been holding, his body leaned over his desk, and he rubbed his eyes. The office was quiet and dark and his desk lamp sent a glow through the room. On the other side of his door the firm was empty. Everyone had gone home. He sighed and leaned back loosening his tie and slowly pulling it off.

He really wasn't looking forward to going home. He reached for his cell phone. Pulling up a newly saved number he leaned back again and let it ring.

"Hello?"

"Sammy," he said, a small smile breaking onto his face. "How are you?"

"I'm good. We're getting ready to have this hall meeting thing. I guess to get to know everyone better."

"Oh, well that sounds exciting. How'd your first day there go?"

"Good! We didn't have classes so I hung out with my roommate. He's pretty cool. We met the guys that live across the hall and hung out in their room. One of them? His name is Josh and he's from Detroit, too! And Kyle, my roommate, plays guitar. He's gonna help me learn it more and I'm gonna try and teach him piano."

"That's great, Sam."

"Yea, oh. I gotta go, Dad. We're going to the meeting thing now."

"Oky, well don't stay up too late. Get some rest before your first day of classes. I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay Dad, bye!" Sam hung up and Larry gave another sigh.

"Bye son." He hung up and looked around his office. He got to his feet and took his time in packing his briefcase. He switched off the light and went for the elevator.

As he walked out of the building he shoved his tie into his jacket pocket. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. He really didn't want to go home.

Not long after, he walked through the door of a bar near the office and made his way to a stool. He shed his jacket and sat down.

"Getcha somethin'?" The bartender asked. Larry nodded.

"Scotch. On the rocks." When the bartender walked off to fix his drink, Larry unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as well as the buttons on his sleeves. Of course he knew he shouldn't be drinking. But frankly...he didn't care.

I'm taking Sam up to his new school tomorrow and leaving him there. Of course he's handling it much better than I.

( Private )

So what happens when Larry is banned from CJs? She hires more help. Scotty came by last night to hang out. When I asked why he wasn't at work at 9 on a Friday night, he said it's because of the new bartender. See what I miss? Larry is not pleased. Although...Scotty says she's hot and not falling for his moves...so maybe she's not so bad.

All the same it was a pleasant night. He broke in on Sammy and I having a Ghostbusters marathon and stuck around. Guys night.

Have you ever doubted a client's innocence after they've gotten off?

(Uhh..cuz I need to distract myself...and Larry needs a friend)

Larry rubbed his brow as he stood outside of a bar. It was Friday night and he wasn't in the mood to sit home alone. Sam had gone to Joey's for the night and as Larry had been temporarily banned from CJ's...he really had nowhere to go.

However...he really was trying hard to keep his promise to Sam that he was cutting back on drinking. At least it was his understanding of the agreement. Sam's may have been closer to the "no drinking" side of things.

"Can't make up your mind?" A voice asked behind him. He smiled as he recognized the voice and turned around to face Jackie.

"Ms. Merrifield," he greeted.

"Mr. Paul," she replied.

"Are you going in, then?" She nodded towards the door. "If not, move out of the way so I can." A smirk was planted on her lips. He chuckled and stepped aside.

"I haven't decided."

"I guess I'll see you inside if you decide so," she said. She slipped past him and walked inside without a further word. His brows rose and he watched after her. The woman had always been good at the intrigue thing. And really, what could a cold Coke hurt?

( .... )

Zack stepped into Larry's office and shut the door behind himself. Larry looked up and blinked.

"Why Zack, come in."

"Larry," Zack shook his head and leaned back against the door, arms crossed.

"What?"

"You're off cases for the week."

"Am I?" Larry smirked. "Since when are you the boss?"

"Since you're not bothering to be concerned."

"Don't start." Larry shook his head and picked up the stress ball he'd been keeping on his desk. Zack gave him a pointed look. Larry tossed it across the room. "You can't take me off cases," Larry said simply. "I've been working on the Kilwin case for weeks. I'm not giving it up."

Zack nodded. "And I've been covering it since you walked out from it on recess and nearly passed out."

"What do you want me to do?! Sit here and direct traffic?!" Larry leaned forward in his chair to glare at his partner.

"No. You'll stick to some of the stress free things for awhile."

"Hey, how about you kick me out altogether? I'll go retire."

"Larry, don't be ridiculous."

"Right." Larry shook his head and flipped open the file he'd been looking over, clearly done with the conversation. Zack sighed and stepped away from the door.

"Okay, be pissed at me. At least you won't be collapsing in court anytime soon." Zack walked out the door without another word. Larry looked up and bit his lip, shaking his head. He let out a deep breath, but it didn't help. He picked up the stapler and launched it into the door, then set his head in his hand to softly rub his eyes.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe...
( .... )

Stupid doctors. They're idiots. They want me to do these "lifestyle" changes, but can't tell me exactly what's wrong with me? Thanks, bastards.

Zack has banned me from the office for the rest of the week, so I've been sitting around since yesterday doing nothing. Nothing at all. Do you know how boring nothing at all is? But at least I have a pretty clock to look at while my nothing time passes. And a cd to listen to. And empty bottles of the scotch that would have tasted quite good, but are now down the drain thanks to my son.

And CJ called today. She heard about things through Scotty. She's taking away my Friday night spot for "a few weeks" until I "feel better". I feel fine.

Do people actually think sitting around on my ass doing nothing will help whatsoever? If so, you all are sadly sadly mistaken.

( Private )

(Storyline doesn't really need to be acknowledged, but if you want your character to...do what you want. Feel free for word to be spread around the grapevine and visitors drop in on him.)

Larry was not happy as he lay in the hospital bed. After all, he had work to do. He didn't have any good reason for laying in the hospital. He was fine and conscience. This was nothing but a waste of time.

IV's and other variousness were stuck into him as monitors attempted to keep track of his internal workings. The doctors, nurses, and candy stripers had been endless in the hours he had been there. They all asked the same questions and made the same, "Hmm, whatever could it be?" face. Their best guess that they could give him was that if he hadn't come in when he did, he might have had a heart attack. Maybe. It was all a big smelly pile of bullshit and he wanted to go home.

But the doctors said his pulse was too fast, his blood pressure to high, and ontop of it all - he was apparently dehydrated. He didn't understand why. He had been drinking plenty of scotch.

( .... )

(Set for midday Monday)

"Ready?" Theresa Mitchell stuck her head into Larry's office. He glanced up and nodded.

"Sure." He glanced at his watch as he got to his feet and started packing his briefcase. Theresa waited for him. He had to stop a moment to catch his breath before putting the last of his files in. Theresa tilted her head at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." He put on his jacket and buttoned it up.

"You're...looking a little pale today."

"I'm fine. Let's get to court, hm?" He headed out the door ahead of her. She had no choice but to sigh and follow.

( .... )

It was midmorning on Larry's birthday and he was sitting down to tie his shoes. Sam came out of his bedroom and looked at his father. "What are you doing?"

"I have to go to the office for awhile," Larry replied.

Sam blinked. "The..office? But..today? Why?"

"Because something came up with one of my cases and I don't have a choice. I should be back for dinner."

"Dinner? That's..Dad! That's not awhile, that's the whole day!"

Larry sighed. "Sammy, please."

( .... )

(This is a fic, but if anyone wants to wander upon them, feel free.)

"What do you want to do on Saturday?" Sam asked.

Larry looked at his son across the table at the diner and tilted his head with a smirk. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean your birthday, old man," Sam chuckled.

"There is no birthday," Larry shook his head.

"Aw, c'mon, Dad. Don't be like that."

"Okay.." he nodded and thought about it. "You and me - we'll head off to...Disneyworld." He grinned. "Want to go to Disneyworld this weekend?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Larry nodded. "Let's go be kids."

Sam momentarily forgot the surprise party he was attempting to arrange and his eyes went wide. "Speaking as a thirteen year old boy, I have to automatically say that's lame. But speaking as me - that would kick ass."

"What have I told you about cussing?" Larry raised a brow.

"Do it with style?" Sam grinned. Larry laughed.

"Really. You want to go to Florida? I can see about getting Friday off. We can fly out Thursday evening."

Sam nodded. "I don't have-" then he stopped. He remembered why he had started that conversation and his face fell slightly.

"What?"

"Maybe we should just hang around home."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You shouldn't take much time off of work, and I need to work on my piano for the recitel."

"Humbug," Larry shook his head. "I want to go to Disneyworld."

"No."

"I want to go to Disneyworld," Larry leaned in closer and stared at his son.

Sam leaned forward and met the stare. "No."

"You're not the boss."

"Dad.."

"There wouldn't be some other reason you don't want to leave town this weekend, would there?" He raised his brows.

"Not at all."

"So...let's do it. Let's go to Disney."

Sam bit his lip in hesitation, unsure what to say.