Suits: A Lawyer Surviving TV Chaos

Thanks to his long-standing healthy exercise and lifestyle habits, Martin's physical stamina was top-tier among ordinary people. 

After two hours of passionate entanglement, the two finally separated, drenched in sweat and lying naked on the bed. 

"Martin… you're always the best," Caroline gasped, sharing her post-coital thoughts. 

Martin leaned against the pillow without speaking, staring at the ceiling as he drifted through the hollow, reflective aftermath. 

Half an hour later, freshly showered and wrapped in towels, the two ate the lunch delivered by the room service. 

Watching Caroline absentmindedly poke at the steak on her plate, Martin finally couldn't hold back: "What's your plan now?" 

Caroline nodded. "You saw it. Start by working as a broke waitress at that restaurant—at least I'll survive. Then maybe save up to start a business. After all, I *did* graduate from Wharton." 

Martin hesitated. "You know you went to Wharton. Why look for jobs in Brooklyn?" 

"Last night, I Googled 'places Manhattanites would never go.' That restaurant was the first result." Caroline feigned nonchalance, raising an eyebrow. "You know I'm radioactive now. No legitimate company in this country would hire me. Where else can I go but Brooklyn to wait tables?" 

Martin sighed and nodded. 

The fallout from Mr. Channing's scandal was too vast. As his daughter, Caroline Channing, while unaware of her father's crimes and legally untainted, couldn't escape the wrath of the wealthy, powerful victims. 

In other words, Caroline was now socially dead. 

From this point on, she couldn't get a credit card, couldn't work at a normal company. Even if Martin tried to recommend her, no one would associate with the daughter of a financial fraudster—it'd ruin their own credit. 

"Caroline… I can't help much right now, but if you need emergency money or—" 

"Don't, Martin!" Caroline shook her head firmly. "You already vouched for me with the boss and kept me off the streets tonight. I'm grateful enough." 

"But I can't rely on you forever, can I? Let me keep my last shred of dignity. *Please*." 

Martin fell silent, then nodded. "It's your call. But if things get too hard, or you just need to talk… call me." 

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. 

Apologizing, Martin stepped away to answer. "Leonard?" 

"Hey, Martin." Leonard's voice sounded strained. "Are you free? Sheldon and I… ran into some trouble." 

Martin frowned. "What happened?" 

"You know Penny's ex-boyfriend? After their breakup, he kicked her out, and she left behind this quilt she loved. We tried to get it back, but the jerk… he pantsed us." 

A cold sweat dripped down Martin's forehead. "You're telling me you're standing on the street in your underwear?" 

"Boxers!" Leonard's voice cracked. "Can you come? You're the only one I can ask." 

"Send the address. Need me to bring pants?" 

"Yes!" 

After hanging up, Martin explained to Caroline, dressed quickly, and left. 

Thirty minutes later, Martin stepped out of a taxi in Queens to find two nerdy scientists awkwardly shielding their lower halves. 

"Sizes might not fit. Deal with it." 

He tossed them the hastily bought pants, then gestured to the house across the street. "That one?" 

Leonard and Sheldon nodded, recounting how Penny's muscular ex had overpowered them. 

Martin sighed, strode to the door, and rang the bell. 

"You two idiots wanna get stripped—" 

A muscular, decent-looking man yanked the door open, ready to rant, but paused at the sight of Martin in a sharp suit beside the "weaklings." 

"Who're *you*? Their boyfriend?" 

Martin ignored the jab. "You're Penny's ex?" 

"So?" 

The ex-boyfriend smirked, but Martin cut him off. "You Know what's about to happen? I am about to sue you for unlawful possession of property." 

"Bullshit!" The ex lunged, fist raised. 

Martin dodged and punched him in the stomach, dropping him to his knees, retching. 

"Seven years of boxing, five of Krav Maga. Don't test me." 

He placed a business card on the coffee table. "Martin Scott, Pearson Hardman Law Firm. Penny's my friend. I'll happily take her case *pro bono*—but if you lose, you'll have to cover my fees. Kicking out two Columbia University physics PhDs and stripping them? That's proof enough you never planned to return her quilt. You'll lose." 

"Friendly tip: My rate's $400/hour. Total cost? Around $3,000. If you can't pay, Try litigation loans." 

"This is insane!" The ex-boyfriend paled. A $3,000 debt over a $30 quilt? 

Martin shrugged. "Had you been nicer, none of this'd happen." He turned to leave. 

"Wait!" 

Martin paused. 

"Any… other way?" The ex looked defeated. "Penny and I… it wasn't cheating. It just didn't work out . I was upset when they came around… so I kind of lost it." 

Martin listened impassively as the man rambled, letting the desperation build. 

Finally, he relented. "Take the quilt, apologize to all three—Penny included—by tonight. Got it?" 

The ex exhaled in relief. "Y-you're giving me a chance?" 

"You didn't kill anyone." Martin turned but added, "Oh, and reimburse my cab fare. $74. No tip—unless you want to argue math." 

"Wait—$37 times 2 is $64! You're scamming me for $10!" 

Martin stared at him. "Did you fail grade-school math?" 

He tossed his phone's calculator to the ex. "Do it yourself. And add a $6 tip now. For wasting my time."