If there was one kind of client Justin Lazarus loathed more than the rest, it was a crier. Actually, that wasn’t true. He loathed the ones with groping hands just as much, and the ones who barked orders as though he were the footman and ought to be delivering messages from the Other Side on a silver salver. In fact, when he thought about it, the client he loathed most at any given time was whichever one was sitting in front of him. But he really did hate tears, and snot, and the obligation to offer sympathy.
