America 1982-Chapter 145 - 49: On the Necessity of Young Men Learning Popular Dance Moves_3

Tommy nodded with a cigarette between his lips, "I just said your warm words touched me, Matt. You need to act more magnanimous, like a big shot from law school, not like some petty woman—like Delia Case, she’s a bad example."

"You wouldn’t be hoping we pay you in cash and then fight this lawsuit for you?" Matt frowned slightly:

"Better think again. If that’s the case, your behavior can’t be called greed anymore, Tommy. It’s called slow suicide."

Charles heated his cigar with a lighter and spoke, "Calm down, Matt. Tommy isn’t an idiot."

"Right, I may be a scoundrel, but I wouldn’t do that to my Stanford brothers." As Tommy put down his glass and joined Charles in toasting his cigar, he told Matt:

"What I mean is, you should display your goodwill to the world more generously. For instance, there are dozens of small studios that were forced to shut down by Lotus Corporation. I think you guys should think of a way to extend a hand of friendship, find some lesser-known, but equally eager pro-bono lawyers to help them recall all their grievances with Lotus Corporation, and from there, dig up any clue that could give Lotus Corporation a headache."

"Of course~" Taking the cigar Charles offered, Matt put it in his mouth and said as if it were a given, "Our White Robe Society alumni are purer than you SSD guys; all our alumni are either lawyers challenging the darkness in the judiciary, judges upholding justice, or on the path to becoming one of these, all full of righteousness, ready to unleash their goodwill on this world."

"I like smart people, especially smart men," Tommy told Matt, "It saves a lot of time."

"This isn’t a difficult concept, Tommy. Maybe we’ve divided ourselves into many fraternities and organizations, but in the eyes of outsiders, Stanford folks are one family. When facing outsiders, we shouldn’t explain in detail that you’re from the White Robe Society and I’m from the White Shoe Society and our differences," Matt exhaled a puff of pale blue smoke:

"Instead, we should let all of America know that even if God descends upon Boston, nothing can stop Stanford alumni from banding together, from helping our dear junior Tommy defeat Lotus. That’s the consequence of rashly sending legal letters to Stanford people."

"You did just say the White Shoe Society is picking up the tab tonight, right? That I can send the bill for tonight’s expenses to you?" Tommy suddenly spoke up.

Matt cursed under his breath and told Tommy, "You really know when to say the most mood-killing things, Tommy."

"That’s right, Tommy is quite good at that sort of thing," Charles said with a laugh.

"I just feel like your previous statement was too sensational, and since you’re a budding legal shark, I’m afraid you’d brainwash me into eagerly picking up the tab right after that line," Tommy told Matt, "because that’s what I often do with Sophia."

"I regret that the law school has girls like Sophia," Matt exhaled and said dejectedly.

Tommy stood up from his lounger, "All serious talk wrapped up just like that, what else to do with this night but enjoy the party, so gentlemen, are you ready for tonight’s screaming match and maybe even a brawl?"

"I don’t believe it," Matt said with a smile, "Even when law students are drunk, they remain rational."

Charles then looked at Tommy, "Give these self-proclaimed rational law school scoundrels a lesson, Tommy. Let them see what an SSD party is all about. If you screw this up, I guarantee you won’t get any news from the twenty thousand living SSD alumni."

"If I were you, Matt, I’d sneak away alone right now, just to avoid embarrassment." Tommy drained his glass, "You know nothing about parties."