She'd never really paid attention to them before. His hands. As a child she'd found them rougher than her mothers coiffed and polished ones. He'd looked so happy when she'd told him she was going to watch his closing arguments. She thought she might have seen an unshed tear in his eyes. She wasn't sure where to focus as he used those big rough hands in court, emphasizing and driving the prosecutions case home. He rested them on the edge of the jury box, growing silent. All eyes were on him, the Shark. Attentive, convinced he was telling the truth.