Note: xanzpet wanted As1 Lindsey/Doyle in W&H’s copy room. Actually going with pre-As1 instead. And his actual request was for creative use of the copy machine, but I don’t know if this qualifies as creative, haha. And it’s more pre-porn than porn *is butchering things everywhere*

Doyle fidgeted nervously as the band of light flickered back and forth over his contract, copies being created for posterity. Commemorating the enormous series of fuck-ups that led him to this moment.

What he really fancied was a drink. Little bit o liquid courage before he went down to the track, tried to cheat the dogs out of the sum he now owed to Wolfram and Hart.

Least they wouldn’t break his legs or dump his mangled body in some alley. Didn’t need to, when you had someone’s soul for all eternity. Oh yeah, he was really tradin’ up, alright.

The young lawyer handling his account tapped the copies into a neat stack and considered Doyle a moment, setting the paperwork aside. When face-to-face, they were nearly the same height. Doyle was fairly certain your lawyer wasn’t meant to stand quite so near.

“You look nervous,” the hot-shot observed. Calm and cool…matter-of-fact-like.

“Can’t imagine why that is,” he shot back.

Blue eyes held his intently…light as his own, but calculating. “What if I told you we could void this contract right now, no harm, no foul.”

“I’d say I’d be dead by sun-up.”

The fact hung in the air. The lawyer didn’t flinch.

“What if I said you could enter into a contract with me, instead.” A beat of silence, then: “A private one.”

Doyle’s breathing picked up involuntarily, eyes dropping from Lindsey’s, to that mouth.

He was at a loss for a moment. “I’d say….” He licked his lips, mouth dry. “I’d say that’s a mighty attractive offer.”