Suits: A Lawyer Surviving TV Chaos

With a breakthrough in hand, the rest fell into place naturally. 

Rachel was tasked with gathering global news and materials on BMW's new electronic gearshift system for the X5. Priya buried herself in the archives, searching for all precedents where second-degree murder charges had been dismissed. Martin, through Leonard, enlisted a neuroscience Ph.D. from Columbia University to help compile theoretical evidence on how emergency-state behavior is governed more by muscle memory. Two part-time psychology and sociology consultants also joined the team, their sole job being to screen out jurors with inherent biases against their client. 

As for Martin himself, he was busy calling to arrange perks for the team. 

"Max, I need you!" 

The voice on the other end remained as cheeky as ever: "What's got you so thirsty at 2 p.m. with the sun still blazing? Let me guess—Caroline mentioned those Upper East Side naked parties, and you want me to back you up? You've got the right girl! I'm *Kelly Brooklyn*—" 

Kelly Brook, a model and actress, had recently taken Europe and America by storm with her natural 36E figure and stunning looks. Max had taken to calling herself "Kelly of Brooklyn," a play on the Americanized pun. 

"Is it too late to book a hotel party? One with a pool and a five-meter-wide bed?" Martin chuckled into the phone. "Listen, Max—I need your cupcakes to reward my hardworking colleagues." 

"Sex gets me off physically; money gets me off mentally!" Max's banter never strayed far from the topic. "No problem. How many?" 

"A hundred, preferably assorted flavors." Martin did a quick mental calculation. "I know it's a lot. Take a taxi—I'll cover the fare." 

"Thank God Caroline didn't buy that vibrator last night, or I'd have missed this payday." 

"As her friend, you should remind her I'm available anytime—*free of charge*." 

Hanging up, Martin headed back to the conference room but noticed Leonard acting strangely. While discussing academic points with the busy neuroscientist, Leonard kept stealing glances at Priya across the table—his eyes filled with nostalgia, longing, and a hint of lust. 

Priya, meanwhile, remained focused on her work, seemingly oblivious. 

Martin shook his head and opened the conference room door. "Leonard, step out. We need to talk." 

Leonard awkwardly stood, glancing back at Priya one last time before shutting the door. 

"I thought you volunteered to stay and help because you wanted to figure out why Dr. Hofstadter prefers your lawyer brother over you…" 

Dr. Hofstadter, Leonard's mother, was a renowned psychology Ph.D. 

Martin led him to a quiet corner. "Can you *reign in* those thirsty eyes? This is where Priya and I work. Don't make this awkward, Leonard!" 

Leonard fidgeted with his fingers. "I'm sorry, Martin. I didn't mean to disrupt your work—" 

Martin cut him off, amused. "Out with it. I thought you were into Penny. Why the sudden interest in Priya?" 

Leonard hesitated, then confessed: "It's not me—I mean… last night, we… *something happened*." 

"You're *serious*?" Martin's voice jumped fifty decibels. "You two actually—" 

"Keep it down!" Leonard hissed. "Penny's dating someone new, so I wanted to talk. Priya had time, so I went to her apartment… Then she kissed me and pushed me onto the couch." 

In the U.S., friends sharing intimate details was normal. Leonard recounted their "yoga session" in vivid detail, leaving Martin wide-eyed and envious. "Lucky bastard!" 

"…It was amazing," Leonard's tone shifted from pride to confusion. "But when I tried to talk about *us*, she kicked me out. Did I do something wrong?" 

"Your *relationship*?" Martin said pointedly. "Let me be clear: you messed up." 

"When?" 

"The moment you tried to take things further *after* getting laid." 

Martin laughed. "Leonard, Priya's Indian. She's had to work twice as hard to survive in Manhattan's prejudiced jungle. That pressure's crushing her. Get it?" 

Leonard squirmed. "So?" 

"So, she has zero time or energy for a relationship." Martin schooled the clueless romantic. "Yes, you slept together—or rather, *she* slept with *you*. But that doesn't mean she wants commitment." 

"She's just blowing off steam." Martin paused, his grin turning sly. "And though this might sting… Congrats, Leonard. You're a human vibrator!" 

The analogy deflated Leonard instantly. 

Martin pressed on: "I'm shocked *you* brought up dating. Isn't that usually the girl's move?" 

"You're an animal, Martin!" Leonard weakly retorted. "What makes humans great is our complex emotional needs beyond mere physicality!" 

"Grow up," Martin declared. "Love is just hormones and dopamine—no different from drug addiction." 

(For the record: Though Martin majored in history, he aced high school chemistry and biology.) 

As Leonard scrambled for scientific counterarguments, Martin delivered the final blow: 

"Face it, Leonard. The second you wanted 'stability,' you lost a gorgeous, exotic, yoga-flexible fuck buddy!" 

"Whatever." Leonard waved dismissively. "My fault for not considering her feelings." 

Martin slung an arm around his shoulder. "Look on the bright side—at least you won't face Raj's wrath. We *did* promise not to hit on his sister. You broke the rules." 

Post-heart-to-heart, Leonard bid the team goodbye. Martin watched Priya closely, but she showed no reaction. 

Later, Max barged in with three large cake boxes. 

"Max, I can't afford a space shuttle," Martin joked, helping her unload the colorful cupcakes onto the cluttered table. He bit into a chocolate one. "You sure these aren't laced with weed? This *is* a law firm. Save the fun for the archives." 

"Your archives have a five-meter bed?" Max shot back, eyeing the mountain of case files. "What's all this? Plotting world domination?" 

Martin shrugged. "In a way, law already rules Earth—except the high seas and a few cannibal tribes. We're just its overworked clerks." 

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