In every film noir worth it's bourbon, there's gotta be a morally ambiguous, overwhelming, vaguely sinister legal presence. That would be the good ol' boy sitting behind the desk.
The others standing next to me are my cousins, and the woman on the far left is the legal assistant specifically assigned to our file, the one exuding sultry cunning.
Me, I'm the poor bastard with the exhausted, "I don't even know how to fix my own blog" look on his face. (Thanks, Lioness!) Plus, for some reason, it looks like they've been feeding me nothing but Miracle Grow.