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CHAPTER TWO - Office Premonitions Jacques was steady at my side, as always. Not in court today, but at the esteemed law firm of Plantag, Hartley, Saxe & Associates. (Or PHS&A, as our tongues rolled from time to time, trying to abbreviate the blasted moniker.) My colleague’s stature boomed of a man who wished to escape his heritage of the romantic nation across the channel for the pragmatism of the British Isles: his hands always entrenched themselves in his trouser pockets, not willing to wave out into the open air of the world. He arched his body at a perfectly vertical angle, making sure that even when he walked, he stood completely still amidst the wayward arches of London streets. Even his mustache was trimmed to roost precisely above his tightly-wound mouth, as his character tried to affect an aura of grimness. Yet the blues of his eyes always reminded me of the pleasant skyline of Paris, with the French sun limning the reds and yellows and sapphire hues of the buildings Jacques