<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://speakerdata.s3.amazonaws.com/photo/image/842205/03_Ian-Somerhalder-Headshot.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Corvin Diaval<br/><strong>Occupation:</strong>Bailiff<br/><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Granny's Resturant/Morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Mildred Voigt<br/><hr/><br/>Corvin glanced at the object of his focus as he attempted to burn it's image into his mind. Lightly sketched with his graphite pencil gently brushing the dark grey on his paper with the pad of his thumb. The thin line of graphite smoothed out into a much broader streak of dark grey. Slowly his picture was coming together as the wind rustled the leaves on the tree he was drawing. Every morning he drew this tree, and this morning was no different. Shifting his grip on his pencil he started to fill in the finer details in the tree. He wanted to tree to come to life on his paper, the sole focus in this moment was now the different patterns and the texture of the bark on the tree. Slowly it all came together but just as he was beginning to really lose himself in his art the alarm on his phone rang. With a small sigh he set his pencil down, tapping his alarm off. It was time to start getting ready, his time for relaxation was over unless he didn't want to eat breakfast. Or if he wanted to be late for work where he would no doubt have his ass chewed out by Judge Viogt.<br/><br/>And that was not a way he wanted to spend his morning. He got up and began to get ready for his day at work. Making sure to wash his hands to get all the graphite off his hands he made sure not to leave any marks if any on his face or arms. His morning routine was simple and short since he laid out his normal clothes the night before and was going to pick up some food on his way to work. Pulling on his black jeans and shirt he grabbed his leather jacket on his way out. Pulling his keys out he looked for his black 1967 Chevy Impala. Despite his fondness for black Corvin always wondered why such a dark color was his favorite one despite all the beautiful and bright colors in the world. Still as his Impala roared to life he drove off rolling his windows down and turning off his radio he thought about what he would like today. However his answer came before him in the form a a very familiar car.<br/><br/>It was the Judge's. Without question he pulled into the parking lot and got out knowing right off that the Judge would no doubt need something. He was used to this routine. Covrin was her unofficial right hand man and he made sure the Judge got what she needed and followed her orders. It was a strange relationship as he normally didn't appreciate someone telling him how to do his job but for some reason he didn't mind if Judge Viogt did. Getting out of his car before he could close the door already he heard her soft command.<br/><br/>A small curl of his mouth showed his slight amusement.<br/><br/><em>Guess I punch in early... <br/></em><br/><br/>"Yes, ma'am."  Corvin replied as he walked towards her. "How can I help you today Judge Voigt?"<br/>