Alias: Nicholas Miller Age: 28 Appearance: (Brown hair - one blue, one green eye (only seen up close otherwise they both look green)) Identity: Purple Shade ((all aspects of blue on his suit are a deep purple + the turquoise of the helm is somewhat see through - optional helm, not sure if I want him wearing it or not just yet)) "And that, ladies and gentlemen," Nicholas started his conclusion, staring down at the jury as if he owned the world and all aspects in it, "is why my client, Larry Decktor," he kept his hands close to him, leather gloves covering his nimble fingers on that snowy December day, Nicholas ended his statements as powerfully as he could as he assumed he could have grabbed as many of the members in those stands to be on his side. For his client, a man named Larry Decktor, had been accused of murder but all the evidence pointed away from this solemnly religious priest. He was a devout man, his alibis doing him justice, only an old trace of DNA coming against him. The murdered man, was, after all, a dear friend of Mr. Decktor. But those glorious days were and will always be behind Nicholas. The arena of the courtroom lost to his voice rattling the windows in their frames. Now staring out of the window of his office, Nicholas sighs, a hand propped up against his desk to cradle his chin in his palm. "I should have seen through that bastard," he growls, knuckles cracking. No matter what, he won't look at the picture of Mr. Decktor in today's broadsheet paper. The priest, a seemingly innocent man, has come out, after nearly seven years of escaping the law, and confessed that it was he who had killed his own friend in a 'murder of passion' he called it. Nicholas, rubbing his hand over his beard, thinks it must be a lie. Crimes of passion, the paper even getting the term wrong, would have not gone to Supreme Court. Not Nicholas' playing ground. But those days are behind him and as he hears a knock on his door, Nick blinks, turning just in time to see his assistant come through the door.