In just a few minutes, work at the courthouse would begin, and there was an unpredictable yet steady stream of people moving towards the building.  The day had so far been filled with clouds and watery sunshine, and the scene was almost as drab as the grey skies -- dark business suits, dark briefcases, the distinctive blue police uniforms, occasionally the tan of a sheriff's deputy -- but now and then there was a flash of color.  One person carried a brilliant red umbrella against the possibility of a sudden shower; another wore a blouse of a vivid green.<br/><br/>The building was drab at a glance as well, though a closer look -- a real look -- would reveal a certain beauty.  The architecture was standard, the construction solid if uninspired; but the grey marble columns alone hid more colors then most ever saw.  It was all meant to overawe, to impress those who came there with a sense of the power and perpetuity of the Law, and it did that well.  But those few who could see its true nature found many other things here, far beyond that.<br/><br/>For Dinah, the place was an incongruous mixture of peace and endless movement.  It was like walking in the eye of a hurricane, for every day she was part of the chaos but never quite swallowed up by it, as so many were.  It was hard for a corporeal to avoid being caught up in the swirl of emotions and duties, forgetting themselves; but that could never happen to Dinah.<br/><br/>She looked like any other young attorney -- her charcoal grey suit and blue blouse would blend in anywhere in the courthouse; her straight dark hair barely brushed her shoulders; and she walked in the same hurried fashion, often with her cell phone to her ear or while balancing a hurried breakfast of a danish and coffee.  But as close as she was to being part of this cross-section of humanity, however much a select few of her co-workers thought that she<em>was</em>part of it, for all intents and purposes, she could never truly belong.  She had a higher destiny that she could not, must not waver from, and the thought was both sobering and liberating.<br/><br/>She strode up the steps, slowing as she passed Hurtriel in the cavernous lobby, her practical heels echoing on the marble floor.  "Good morning, Howard," she said, as always feeling faintly awkward about addressing him so informally; but 'Mr. Jackson' would have been terribly out of place, given their respective Roles.  "How does everything look today?"