no good dead.

i.

“You motherfucker,” Hisses Jolie White, the Defense’s lawyer just seven seconds ago. There’s a couple of gasps from the Jury box, and one man is shaken awake by the sheer force with which she spits the word.

Setting things up isn’t easy.

It’s a long game, a long con, setting things up piece by piece by piece and hoping and praying to whatever god you believe in that it doesn’t collapse.

But collapsing? Knocking it all down? That’s the easy part.

As the realization falls, no - collapses into place, it crashes over her like a gray wave on the craggy rocks under her parent’s summer house, cold and brutal. “You did it, didn’t you, you dumb bastard.”

Technically, she’s still his defense lawyer for another half hour.

“Order, order,” Groans Judge Townsend, hitting his gavel. “If the Defense could refrain from using foul language in the Court of Law.”

“We wouldn’t have to be in the Court of Law if the Defendant bothered to hide his tracks like a sensible person,” She grounds out. “But nooo - you had so much pride and arrogance that your money would save you - you didn’t even bother to clean your mess up, you arrogant little bitch!”

An old Lady in the Jury box swoons.

“You know what?” Says the old Judge, exhaustedly. “Recess.”

Jolie folds her arms and drops into her seat, making the pale balding man in her jump. She leans back, balancing on the point of her red-bottomed heels.

“Kristofferson.”

The other Defense lawyer on the opposite side of the Defendant hums, his suit jacket hung open and his tie rumpled.

“How long did you know?”

He peers over his little circle shades at the Rubix cube he’d been playing with during the trial, turning it in his long, elegant fingers. “About two weeks or so. Knew more than he should have and was generally pretty creepy.”

“And why didn’t you say anything, Ryder Kristofferson?”

Ryder Kristofferson turns the Rubix cube in hand once more. “Your Father is going to kill you.”

Jolie groans, setting her chin on the cold Defense table. “He can suck my dick.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” He glances down at her, the weight of his focus heavy and burning. “But, sweetheart, having big dick energy dosen’t count.”

ii.

“It’s like you want to ruin my reputation on purpose!” Her Father snapped, whirling around to face her.

“Have you ever considered that, maybe, it’s not about you, Dad?” Jolie flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from her perfect nails to make herself seem casual. “And more about, like, I don’t know - the family of the man he killed.”

“You disrespectful girl,” He hissed. “You’re just using this to make yourself the hero,”

“No,” She can feel the tips of her ears beginning to warm up. “They deserve justice.”

“Is that what you would call your little breakdown? Justice?” Her Father chuckles mirthlessly.

“It wasn’t a breakdown,” Jolie grit out, the warmth spreading over her cheeks now. She gripped the side of the chair, fingers digging into the dark leather. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe.

“It doesn’t matter what it was,” Her Father growled back. “You made a fool of yourself, and you made a fool of me for the very last time.”

All of the emotion slid off of Jolie’s face. “No. No, no, no, you can’t bench me.”

“That’s funny,” He doesn’t laugh. “I don’t remember your name being on the door.”

“You can’t bench me - I’m - I’m your best lawyer,”

“You’re a loose cannon, is what you are, and you need to be taught a lesson.” He sighs. “I spoiled you too much as a child. It’s my fault.”

“Da - ”

“I’ll give you a case when you’ve learned that your actions have consequences.” His face is flat, hands behind his back once more.

“You can’t just - you can’t just do that! You can’t just - punish me for doing the right thing! They were going to let them go! The Jury was eating him up! I –“

He held up a hand. "I don’t want to hear your excuses. You did this to yourself. It’s you’re fault. You were selfish.”

“No, no - I didn’t - ” Her voice had shrunk.

“We propagate the law. We are th law. I’m finished talking. Get out.“

Jolie scuttled out of the room, cradling a shot heart and trying to stop the tears of frustration from escaping.

iii.

The next morning Ryder brought her to a little cafe a few minutes away from the firm where they served square donuts and supposedly artisan coffee.

"That’s abuse,” Says Ryder as the underpaid teenager sets their overpriced drinks in front of them. “You’re being abused, babesy.”

“Yeah, maybe,” She raised her cup daintily to her lips

Ryder gives her a look.

“Okay, sure, whatever. But I’m not a little bitch, so I’ll live.”

“That’s not how this works love,” Ryder added another handful of sugar cubes into his cup.

Jolie sneered. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, sweetcheeks.”

She turns up her nose with a scoff. “And say your white ass name while fucking? Absolutely not.”

Jolie is quiet for a long time, looking but also not looking at the buttons on his shirt. Suddenly she’s seized by a shot of white-hot anger.

“Who does he think she is?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. A highly successful lawyer with enough money to pay our combined student loans twenty times over and still have the cash to spare?”

“His white assimilation has gone too far,” Jolie grumbles.

“He’ll fit right in at the Banquet,” The chair creaked under Ryder as he leaned back.

Jolie deflated into thought once more as he sipped his sugary drink. “Sometimes I wonder if we should just get married and fly off to some foreign place like Cancun or something,”

Ryder looks at her then, the darkness of his shades doing nothing to block the brilliance of his eyes. It looked as if they had swallowed the whole sky. “Do you mean that?”

“No.” She says immediately. “Why? Did you want me to mean it?”

“I was just asking. Need time to find a bag big enough to fit all of our sexual tension.”

“We’ve got enough baggage as is.”

He hums. After a while he asks, “So what are you going to do, pudding?”

Jolie gives him a look because she knows asking him to stop is beyond futile and that she’s supposed to be trying to pick her battles. Keyword being trying. "I guess I’m just going to have to try and wait him out. I am his best lawyer after all.”

“Mmm. Second best.”

“What.” She says flatly.

A smirk curves onto Ryder’s full, glossy lips. She hates how blemish-free he alwyas looks. She should not have given him that Fenty gift card he’d requested for his birthday. “I love you and all, but I’m the best lawyer in the joint, snookums.”

Jolie sneers. “You wish, Kristofferson.”

iv.

“Kristofferson. Kill me noooow,” Jolie groans.

“And let you have all the fun?” Ryder pours himself another glass of a wine old that’s enough to vote, get married, have children, and die twenty times over. His tie is crooked and his shirt coming untucked. “Yeah, in your dreams, toots.”

“I hate banquets. At least in court, I know for sure when somebody’s trying to fuck me over. But here, their faces are so tight with plastic and bullshit, I can’t even read their fucking expressions.”

“Don’t need to,” He replies. “Head empty. No thoughts - only money.”

She groans again.

“Let’s dance, honey cakes.”

She pouts in disgust.

“Or you can talk to Mrs. Marsh, who’s coming straight this way.”

“Oh, fuck no,” She lunges for his arm and he sweeps her onto the dance floor in one smooth movement.

The two of them aren’t exactly dancing, more like hurling circles around the other pairs. They’re a blur of motion to notes nobody else can hear.

“I was quite the debutant in my day,” He says, breath warm on her ear.

“You do look like a princess, so it tracks.”

“Just call me pretty, baby. You won’t melt.

"Bite me.”

“Not in front of your Dad.”

Jolie’s moments lock up then, immediately meeting the eyes of to her Father across the room.

She drops her arm from around Ryder. She can him looking at her, her hand becoming cold when she steps away.

v.

In his head, she knows Ryder is counting down the -

“This insanity plea is absolute bullshit.”

“Oh, 100%.”

“But it’s not even, I mean - how am I supposed to defend them? They did it. There’s footage,” She flipped the page and straightened it. “If a black man did it, they’d hang him from the damn spires.”

“No normal person has this kind of money,” Ryder said. “He requested us, sugar pie.”

“Only one of them can afford us, but I don’t think he’s the ringleader.” Jolie taps the photo of the other boy. “He is. He’s got the serial killer eyes.”

“Is that your final answer? Are you willing to bet coffee on it?”

“Are you?“

“We meet them at 12.”

vi.

“I’d like to see my lawyer,” Said the Rich boy. The other boy, the creepy one who Jolie was convinced was the Ringleader, sat quietly.

Jolie glanced over to Ryder in mild contempt. Ryder didn’t glance up from his phone, but his silent response rolled off of his relaxed shoulders.

Equal disgust.

“Your insanity plea is absolute bullshit - ”

“Excuse me, who the hell do you -”

”Your lawyer,” Jolie said before Ryder could. “And if you want a chance of not getting thrown into the slammer - ”

“‘Cause, ya did it,” Ryder chimes in.

“‘Cause ya did it. You’ll sit down, shut up, and let the pretty black girl attempt to salvage your chances, even if it goes against all of the racism and sexism you’ve got saved up where your brain should be -”

“'Cause you messed up," says Ryder.

"Because you fucked up and clearly can’t.”

Richie had the good sense to shut up. Or an abusive father. You can never really tell with these things.

“I don’t care why you think you did it, and if you try to explain why you’re fucked. We’re focusing on two things. Your Daddy, who’s a "pillar of the community”,“ She said with air quotes, a roll of the eyes, and every drop of condescending sarcasm that it deserved. (Hint: Every. Last. Drop.) "And your "possible” reform. Try to show a little remorse, Jeffery Buddy, or get wrecked.“

The Creeper looked at her blankly, and she didn’t mask her contempt.

“You can follow my directions or don’t,”

“Frankly,” Ryder stretched his long arms like a lethargic, graceful cat. “We don’t expect you to. Not that you aren’t used to making trouble for yourselves.”

He shrugged.

She shrugged.

“Okay, got it? Got it. We’re going to step out for a minute.” She waves a hand. “Private lawyer-y stuff.”

The two dipped out of the room.

Jolie folded her arms. “We’re like, absolutely the bad guys here, right?”

Ryder gives her a loose shrug, pocketing his phone. “I dunno. Which probably means we are.”

Jolie inhales deeply. “Remind me that my Dad’s gonna have my hide if I fuck this up.”

Ryder looks at her over his sunglasses for a long time.

“Or we can just run off to Seoul. I hear it’s great this time of year,”

“Not too crowded,” He hums. “And the neon’s in full bloom, too.”

“What does that even mean?” She says, a dry laugh outlining her words.

vii.

There’s a crowd of protesters out front on the day of the trial because of course, there fucking is. Jolie White cuts straight, though, Ryder Kristofferson leisurely trailing behind her with his hands half in his pockets.

“Ms. White! Ms. White!” She whirls around with her natural glare and the Reporter retreats a few steps back, circling back in immediately. “Are you the lawyer for this case so soon after your reported break? What brought you back so soon?!”

“Ms. White! Mrs. White!”

Behind them are a crowd with homage sights made of sharpie and uneven planks saying things like “guilty” and “pay to kill.”

She squints in the flashing lights. There’s purple behind her eyelids.

“Ms. White! Ms. White! How much are they paying you?”

“Can’t say. I don’t handle my own money,” Her Father had told her it was a sign of true wealth to touch money.

Ryder said it was a means of control.

“Is it enough to equal those dead kid’s lives?”

Jolie stops, looking over her shoulder into the eyes of a girl who looks exactly like her. Sure, she’s got her hair natural and wearing hippie clothes, but the defiant blaze in her eyes as she holds the mic right into Jolie’s face is unmistakably recognizable.

Ryder’s hand grips her arm and she blinks out back into her body. “No comment,” He says cooly, tugging her forward.

The little touch ignites a new wave of interest that crackles across the crowd and it makes Jolie sick.

When her heels meet the white tile of the courthouse, Jolie slides herself out of his grip and attempts to make her breathing obedient. The last minute seems to be catching up with her all at once. “Don’t touch me - don’t - ”

“I’m not touching you,” He says, raising his hands. “I’m not touching you. Look at me. Hey. Jolie.”

Her eyes are on his for only a few broken seconds at a time, darting away under his piercing gaze to the marble columns and high celings and to the polished floor.

“Hey,” He says, eyes focused and breathing steady.

“We have a case to win.” Still fighting with her breathing, she turns on her heels and clicks away.

Ryder’s outstretched hand catches air.

viii.

“All rise,” Judge Townsend shoots Jolie a sympathetic look as they rest into their sweet and tap their gavel.

Ryder sits between the and suited boys and Jolie as a precaution. She taps her foot, eyes flicking from the Judge’s seat to the vague faces of the jury.

She’s doing the math, assessing their impressions and biases. Ryder leans his elbows on the back of the chair he’d turned around, and when they meet eyes.

She knows they’re on the same page.

“There is footage of the two of them committing the atrocity, the Prosecutor would like to remind the court.” The Prosecutor is a half-balding man with half-rimless glasses in an ill-fitted tan suit.

“Objection,” Calls Ryder. “Defamation.”

“Overruled.” Responds Townsend.

Ryder shrugs, nonchalant. Richie gasps at him. It was an atrocity. They should be in jail, rotting. It’s grasping at straws, but straws are all they have. They’re getting paid to grasp, paid to try.

Paid to lie.

Jolie chews her nail.

“Along with the footage, the Defense has neglected to mention the rather incriminating diary of the Defendant, where he says, and I quote - ”

“Objection,” Jolie says, raising a hand. “The defendant is here and can speak for himself, unfortunately.”

“Overruled,”

“Oh, okay,”

“You aren’t even trying,” Hisses Richie.

Jolie imitates his complaint in a pitchy voice over Ryder’s shoulders. “You committed a crime, bud, not me. Get off my dick."’

He started to stand up but froze at the Creeper’s voice. "A bitch who nobody’ll fuck isn’t worth getting thrown in jail for.”

The Courtroom reeled.

“A boy who sees a woman as nothing more than a sex object should keep his mouth shut until his trial is over,” Snapped Ryder, eyes sharp and rigid.

The boy doesn’t flinch.

“Hey, Kristofferson. Being angry is my thing,” Jolie remarks casually, gathering her papers with her left hand.

Ryder doesn’t look away.

She wipes her face with her hand, huffing into her palm. They lean together. “How about Bavaria. Cinderella’s castle’s there, right?”

“Oh,” Said Ryder, finally turning around to face her. “So you do read the articles I send you.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes. I read that one.”

ix.

“I’d like you to know,” Ryder says, gesturing to Jolie vaguely. “Because I love you, truly, that this - this right here? Terrible coping mechanism.”

“If I wanted judgment,” She knocks her head back, taking a few gulps straight from a bottle of something worth a full day in Court. “I would have called my Dad. Not like he would have come, anyway,”

Ooh, all the girls and the boys on the dance floor -

(Ba-ba-da-ba-da, ba-ba-ba)

And they lose all their heads to the groove of the record,

The air is moist with the sweat of grinding bodies and the smell of too much cologne illuminated in electric blue for a second, then cast in halogenic pink.

Jolie can feel the beat in her chest.

Marcia’s in the bathroom,

Breathing in the bath fumes -

Something you and I have. Both. Done.

“So you called me because you knew I would come?“

“No,” She scoffs, her head rolling on her neck. “Maybe? I don’t fucking know. I don’t remember calling you.”

“If you don’t even remember calling me, maybe it is really time for you to go home, kiddo.”

She puts a hand out. “Don’t. Patronize me.”

“I’d never do that to you, gorgeous.”

Don’t stop the music -

I don’t wanna lose it,

She scrunches her face.

“Come on,” He says, taking her by the elbow. “Let’s go home.”

Jolie plats her feet and Ryder looks back at her. “Where?”

He quirked an eyebrow, looking down at her. “What’d'ya mean where? Home? To your silk sheets and Mr. Stray.”

She shakes her head. “I ain’t got no - no home.”

My mind’s polluted,

All I’ve got is the music -

“Mr. Stray would be very offended to hear that. She puts her cat hair everywhere just for you.”

But she still doesn’t move. Her words are slightly more than a whisper, but he reads her lips. “Don’t make me go,”

Ryder stands for a moment, looking at her and holding her up straight. “How about this, then - I take you for a drive.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere.”

“Not there?”

Ryder nods. “Not there.”

He walks her out of the club, holding her steady as she sways back and forth.

“That’s a nice car. I don’t remember it being that nice.” She holds her broken arm to her chest. “Daddy’s money finally came through?”

“No, McDaniel’s plea bargain. You remember Mr. McDaniel, right?”

She pauses, then, and in her best imitation of a former president, “I most certainly did not have sexual relations with that woman. Teenager.”

“Yeah, close enough, darlin’,” He says, hand on her head as he helps her into the car.

“Where are we going, again?”

He looks up at her, dropping one heel and then the other into the car. “Does it matter?”

“… No,” She says, sinking into the leather with a sigh of something like but not quite content. “I guess not.”

x.

“I don’t raise my son to be anything else than the best,” Says Richie’s dad when he’s brought to the Stand. He had been on a business trip and his flight had only handed an hour ago. “He just happened to get in with the wrong crowd, that’s all.”

“The wrong crowd … that enticed him to perform massed murder,”

Richie Senior considered it for a moment, and Jolie could see his mind shooting off into all of the possible spins he could put on that phrase. He wasn’t fast enough, though.

“I’m just saying that most times," Prosecutor said amicably as if he were putting greens instead of standing in Court. "This kind of stuff often starts at home.”

“Are you implying that I’m a bad Father?” He sets the trap and waits.

“No?” Says the Prosecutor with a bit of inflection that clearly implies that Richie’s dad is absolutely a bad Father. “Just saying that you, if anyone, seeing that you are the boy’s Father and all - would have seen any weird withdrawals or transactions.”

Richie Senior keeps his cool. “I taught my boy how to manage his money well.”

“So you don’t check his account?”

“Why should I? He’s a man.”

"He isn’t being tried as one,” The Prosecutor swings his imaginary silver club. “But I digress. Maybe not as a … murderer, but as an accomplice.”

“He didn’t - ”

“He didn’t what? He didn’t know he was buying guns? Didn’t that the express purpose of a automatic shooter are weapons of mass death? He didn’t know he was shooting up a school?”

Judge Townsend tapped their gavel once, giving the Prosecution a pointed look.

“Oops, sorry,” He says with a weird little condescending tilt of the head. “Look, I’m just saying that maybe all of your teachings didn’t set in quite the way you wanted them to. And that happens. I have kids of my own, so I know. But the fact remains that people are dead because of the actions - the quite frankly, if I may, selfish actions of these two boys.”

The Judge hit the gavel again, even if he looked like he agreed.

xi.

When the Father of one of the dead girls begins to unfold a letter from his pocket, Jolie knows that they’re fucked.

“My daughter,” He begins in a quivering voice, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows tears. “My daughter liked playing soccer and wanted to be a veterinarian because she loved animals. But now … she’ll have to be one in Heaven,”

Jolie’s face says that she’s bored out of her mind, but inside her heart is thrumming, and her cheeks are heating up. She scratches the end edge of the Defense’s table.

“Gods says that we’re supposed to forgive those trespass against us, but I - ” His voice cracks. He swallows again. “I’m finding out that I’m not as Godly as I thought I was. You know, I just keep waiting for my little girl to … to come home from school, but she never does. And I don’t even realize that I’m waiting. I gotta remind myself, over and over. She ain’t coming back. She ain’t coming back because of those two boys over there—her best friend … the one who held her while she went. She said her last words to the boy where that she wasn’t afraid of death because she believed in God - ”

“She didn’t say that,” Said the Creeper.

Ryder and Jolie both gave the boy a look.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?!” Snapped the Father, jumping from his seat. Spittle flew from his mouth. “Because you killed her, you - you Devil!”

“That’s the best that you’ve got, old man?” The boy quirked an eyebrow, a small smirk sticking onto his face. “I’m worse than your little red man. I’m worse because unlike your make-believe God or Devil, I exist.”

An officer had to tackle the Father before he got to the boy who was grinning, watching the Father’s face turn red. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, he wiped the Father’s spit from his face and flicked it off.

“Judge?”

“Yes, Ms. White?”

“Can we have a recess?” Jolie asked dryly, ”Because otherwise, I might just strangle my client - ”

“How could you?!” The Father cut her off, howling at the boy, whirling his head between Jolie and Ryder. “How could you?! How could you defend that monster?! You congregate with evil! Your evil!”

Jolie’s throat constricted, but she didn’t look away.

xii.

I feel numb,

Born with a weak heart,

I guess I must be having fun -

Jolie bobbed her head with the blaring music, taking another gulp of something that burned in the chest. The doorbell kept screaming until she finally opened it. “What.”

Ryder gives her a once-over, bending down to scoop up the cat with one of his branch-like arms. “This is an intervention, snookums.”

Jolie slams the door in his face, starting to groove in the other direction.

It’s okay,

I know nothing’s wrong, nothing’s -

When the doorbell starts to screech again, she opens it once more. “What.”

“I’ve got a hostage,” He says.

She leaves the door open, dancing away.

Ryder falls into step behind her, shifting the cat to one arm and reaching for her left hand at the same time she reaches back. He raises their linked hands and spins her around, joining in on her emotional warbling. Even without her alcoholic handicap, he’d always had the better singing voice out of the two of them.

I’m just an animal,

Looking for a home, and -

Share the same space for a minute or two,

Jolie falls into straddling him on the couch, which might have been sexier if it wasn’t more akin to a koala hugging a tree.

Hit me on the head, I go -

Ooooooh -

“You know,” Jolie says, the strong scent wafting from her words. “I’d let you eat my heart whole if you asked.”

Ryder smeared her lip color on the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “You’re drunk, Princess.”

“Yeah? So what if I am?” She drops her head on his shoulder and he rides his fingers up the ridges of her spine. “You’re being picky.”

“I am,” He hums. “And, y'know, I think I have a right to be.”

“You are so fucking high maintenance,” She snuggles into his chest, feeling the soft scoff he makes.

“Yeah, okay, hypocrite much?”

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?

Did he go away and leave you all alone?

I got a bad desire -

“My dad loves this song,“ Jolie murmurs, face splitting into a yawn.

Ryder wraps an arm around his shoulders, chest vibrating with as he sings along.

“Tell me now, baby, is he good to you?

And can he do to you the things that I do?”

xiii.

"Good job, White,”

Jolie sidesteps the other lawyer.“Thanks,”

“Yeah, uh, good job.”

“Yeah,” Jolie shrinks against the wall and keeps walking.

“You did great out there, kid.”

Jolie felt like she was going to throw up.

“Congratulations on your plea bargain,” Says Mr. White, giving her right shoulder a squeeze. She winces. He raises a brow.

Jolie wanted to slap his hand away. She wanted to kick and scream and have the earth open up and swallow her. She swallowed the sour taste in the back of her mouth.

“Thanks Dad, I just, really have to go to the bathroom -”

The office workers couldn’t decide what kind of look they should be giving her over their shoulders. There shouldn’t have been a plea bargain, and she didn’t exactly do anything to help them get it. Nothing extra, anyway

Jolie had watched them walk down the stairs. The Creeper held eye contact with her for a long time before disappearing into the crowd of reporters.

Jolie couldn’t cry.

She’d lost the ability about halfway through middle school. Her eyes would fill with water and her cheeks would burn and her head would feel as if she was underwater, but not a drop would fall.

There’s a knock on the outside of the stall.

“Go away, Ryder.” She takes a shuddering breath. “This is the girl’s bathroom.”

“A fact, yes. But not one that makes me reconsider.”

Jolie imgines his hand spread on the plastic, palm pushing in.

“Go away,” She says weakly, lip trembling. She folds her legs into herself. “Go away.”

He’s quiet for a long time, but she hears him leaning against the door. “The courthouse is open until three,”

She sniffs. “It’s ugly,”

“Does it matter?” Ryder asks gently.

“… No,” She sniffs. “I guess not.”

“Then?”

She watches his arm raise through the crack, listens to the annoying keyboard sounds as he types with one hand then pockets his phone.

“What about my Dad?” She sniffs, bumping her head against the stall. ”Did ya ask 'im?”

Ryder scoffs. “Please. We both know that you’re the way harder sell.”

The door creaks open. Jolie sniffs, eyes red and puffy. “I want a ring.”

“Okay,” He says.

“I want it so bright it would blind the jury and give them common sense.” She sniffs again. “Just kidding, I hate gaudy rings.”

“I know,” He says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

xiv.

“- The son of a pillar of our community was murdered at the local gas station this afternoon -”

“Whaaat,” Jolie deadpanned, her hand stilling in the recently re-dyed hair of her fiancé.

Ryder rolled over to hear better. “Boo. That’s the wrong one.”

“The hunt is on for the suspect, Jamir Malcolm, who is a reportedly armed and dangerous African - American male who, when he saw police approaching, turned and ran -”

She clicks her tongue. “Oh, mood. Guilty or not, his Dad’s going to want that kid hanged.”

“Yeah.”

“Our next story is about a new arrival in the local Zoo’s panda family,” The Reporter stacked their papers on the desk. “So you’re gonna wanna stick around for that.”

“Nope." Says Jolie, picking up the remote.

"Hey, stop,” Says Ryder, gripping her wrist lightly. “I want to see the panda family.”

“Really, Kristofferson,” She says, looking down at him.

“Yes, really, future Mrs. Kristofferson. Why would I joke about my panda intake? Do you even know your future husband? For shame, future Mrs. Kristofferson, for shame.”

Jolie clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, turning his head back to the screen.