Jean-Paul, Simon, and Warren, backdated
Aug. 17th, 2018 10:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ax_angel posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ax_mainWarren's meeting with his parents is preempted by a slight case of death.
There was a weird vibe in front of Worthington Tower that didn't help Warren's nerves. Some ambulances around the corner and a lot of cop cars and a weird, hushed kind of atmosphere that was anti-Manhattan in general. Warren straightened his tie--he'd gone with just the waistcoat and no jacket, thanks to the heat, but he looked his damn best to be sure--and shot his boyfriends a worried look. Not his first of the day. Then he led the way into the lobby.
Shit, shit, shit....
Several police occupied the front desk and the hall that led to the elevators. Warren swallowed hard and, wordlessly, walked directly for them. He'd never had to announce himself at the desk before, and he was operating almost purely on autopilot today. There were new obstacles, but he was going to just pretend there weren't. Until someone made him acknowledge them.
Shittttttttttt...
It wasn't long. One of the officers stopped him though she stared at his wings for long enough that he knew she knew who he was. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're not to let anyone in or out."
"My father's expecting me." Warren glanced at his boyfriends. Yeah, okay, he was definitely not sending them over to the coffee shop--which looked shut down for the moment anyhow. Shitfuckmotherfucker what the hell is going on here??? "And they're with me."
Jean-Paul frowned, resisting the urge to maneuver himself between his lovers and the cops. "What's the disturbance about anyway?" he asked.
Simon said nothing, watching Jean-Paul posture and Warren start to falter. He'd never meant for this to be a sort of coming out for him and their relationship, but he couldn't help reaching out and laying a hand on the small of Warren's back, bolstering, comforting. He knew from experience that this much police presence, and the presence of the ambulances outside did not bode well, especially since no one seemed to be moving actively, as though the emergency were still ongoing. No, something had happened, and it wasn't likely to be good.
Warren only narrowly resisted the urge to bury his face in Simon's shoulder, but he shot him a grateful look for the hand. Jean-Paul taking the lead was a relief, too.
The officer shared another look with one of her comrades before saying, "Well, you should prepare yourself. There's been a death in the family. Come with me, please."
The blood seemed to drain from Warren's face. He nodded silently. He snagged Jean-Paul's arm as he moved forward, drawing him past the cops with him and Simon.
Warren's grip was a little too tight, all tension. Jean-Paul covered his hand with his own as they piled into the elevator, still doing his best to be a barrier between Warren and the rest of the world. He could all but sense what was coming, but hoped he was wrong. Just... let it be some distant visiting cousin. Please. Warren didn't deserve this.
All the air seemed to have left the tight confines of the elevator, and Simon let his mind race ahead of them, noting the floor button the officer chose and the soft crackle of an order through her radio. There were really only two candidates for the 'death in the family', at least in his opinion. The odds of this happening, though, on a day when Warren had been summoned for a meeting - was exceedingly suspicious, and he knew that the police would take note of it as well. Depending on the circumstances of the death, his boyfriend might end up being questioned, and Simon's brain began calling up New York State Law before they even reached the floor.
Even before Warren had wings, he'd grown used to all eyes being on him. He was the Worthington heir, he was captain of the team, he was rich, he was handsome--he'd grown up knowing all this, so it was no surprise. But now, as the elevator doors slid open to the penthouse floor, he was painfully aware that everyone knew he was coming, and everyone was staring. Law enforcement, Worthington security, his father's bodyguard, his mother's, a paramedic or two. He stepped out of the elevator in a haze, waiting to hear which one of them it was even while he tried desperately to think of anyone else it could be.
Just as his mind alighted on the happier possibility (of many horrors) that it'd be his estranged father's brother, Burtram, there he was, Uncle Burtram in the flesh. With an arm around Katherine Worthington's shoulders as she dabbed delicately at her eyes.
Warren noticed numbly that her mascara and eyeliner hadn't run, though the puffiness in her face said she'd been crying for an hour at least. Golf clap to her stylist.
"It's Dad," he said aloud as he met Katherine's gaze across the huge, airy room, just in case Jean-Paul and Simon hadn't realized who the occupants were, yet. The loud clicking of a stretcher being wheeled toward the giant desk near the wall of windows echoed the sentiment perfectly.
They were putting Warren K. Worthington, Jr. into it.
Jean-Paul supposed if he'd been raised with anything like normalcy, he'd have had some idea what to do or say that was comforting. Instead, his first instinct was a move toward defensive suspicion. This was all... so conveniently timed. But now wasn't the time. Instead, he gave Warren's hand a squeeze. If he didn't want to go to the rest of his so-called family, he didn't need to.
Simon's gaze zeroed in on the elder Worthington's body, noting the stretcher and the lack of blood evident. It was cold of him, he supposed to go first to a diagnosis than sympathy, but he couldn't help it. The rest of the people in the room made him nervous, mostly because of the overabundance of them there. He stayed close to Warren, though, just a step behind and off to one side, should he be needed.
Warren held up one finger to ask Jean-Paul and Simon to stay put, then squeezed JP's hand before moving to speak to his mother. His wings ruffled as Burt's gaze fixed to them. Warren hadn't seen him since... forever. Long before the wings had come in. "Mom," he said quietly as he reached her. "What...? How?" He wasn't looking at her, though, he was watching them lift his father. Dead weight. Dead.
"We don't know," said Katherine. "His PA found him and thought he'd dozed off--though he never did that... He was looking forward to our meeting today." She reached out one hand.
Warren took it briefly and gave it a squeeze, then they both let their hands fall. She was already showing a puffy face in public; that was a little much already.
"Who are they?" Burt asked.
"My boyfriends," Warren replied, distracted.
"Oh, Warren, did you have to...?" Katherine asked.
"I didn't know he was going to be dead when I got here," Warren replied. It sounded and felt like someone else's voice, though.
Katherine sniffled.
Burt frowned at the two boys waiting near the elevator, then returned his attention to Warren.
"How are you even here?" Warren asked once he managed to tear his gaze away from the stretcher.
"Good behavior," said Burt. "And your father invited me to the little reunion."
Warren had no idea what his father had been thinking. Was he in the same boat as Burt, in their minds? Embezzlement, fraud, and theft in general? Great. Just fucking great. He felt like this was all happening underwater.
Jean-Paul stood at Simon's side, tense and alert, eyes on Warren. "I don't think Warren's happy to see either of them," he murmured. "We should step in. He's outnumbered."
"There's another problem too," Simon breathed out quietly. "With this many people involved, the press are going to be alerted soon, and we don't have a quick and easy way out of the building. He doesn't need them crowding him with questions either."
Jean-Paul considered. "There has to be a window around here that actually opens, right?"
"Not this high up," Simon told him. "Building regulation. But we might be able to find roof access."
Jean-Paul nodded. "So long as you're OK with being carried. Let's go rescue our man, oui?"
Simon wasn't okay with it, not usually, but for Warren, he would brave death on the pavement below. Apparently, he would also brave Katherine Worthington's ire too, as he stepped forward with Jean-Paul to join Warren in quiet conference. "My condolences to you all. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Katherine looked at Simon blankly. Then at Jean-Paul.
Burt, at least, was a better actor in the circumstances. "Thanks very much, Mr..."
"Simon Tam and Jean-Paul Beaubier," Warren filled in the blanks before turning to his boyfriends. "He's been out of the loop lately. This is my uncle Burtram." A significant look.
Jean-Paul managed not to scowl at the mention; he and Simon knew the man by reputation, via Warren. He was a thief and a cheat, and his reappearance during a disaster was not something Jean-Paul was willing to take as coincidence.
Out loud, he played along. "I am sorry for your loss. Moreso that it's had to happen in a manner where the vultures are likely to show up sooner rather than later."
Simon nodded briefly in greeting to the man, but offered no more, instead turning toward Warren. "That said, would you like me to talk to the authorities about whether they will need a statement, and if it can be done in a more discreet location?" He glanced up at Katherine for a moment. "I can also alert my father's legal team, if you like."
"Thank you, we should be fine," Katherine said with a faint, labored smile. "But I don't think--"
"Would you?" Warren cut in to ask. God, the timing was so bad, so weird, the cops would definitely want to speak to him. But he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin--or possibly moult. "That'd be great. Thanks, Simon."
Katherine spared him an annoyed look, but the stretcher heading for the elevator distracted all three Worthingtons.
Simon ducked away while they were distracted, touching the arm of one of the officers nearby to speak to them in low tones. As he did, he pulled out his cellphone and began typing away at it, a grim, but professional look on his face.
"What happened," Warren asked, voice barely a whisper of a sudden, all the swagger gone out of him.
"Heart attack, probably." Burt shook his head.
"His heart was fine." Warren hadn't taken his eyes off the stretcher.
Katherine said, "We don't actually know. They'll--they'll have to do an autopsy."
"It looks like they're treating it like a crime scene," Warren said, shooting Jean-Paul a look.
Jean-Paul was suddenly, immensely grateful for Simon's offer of legal help. "I'm sure it's just standard procedure when the cause of death isn't immediately apparent." Placating, public-face bullshit. But it might keep Warren's family off their asses.
Warren grunted and nodded, wings ruffling because he knew what JP was doing and was eternally grateful, but couldn't respond coherently. He honestly felt like underwater. Too slow, too deliberate, fighting to move and breathe. Had time dilated or... what?
Katherine shot Jean-Paul what was almost a grateful look, though it was gone in a flash, and Burtram said, "That's what I told her."
"Did you, now," Warren muttered. He guessed Burt would know all about crime scenes.
"Warren," Katherine said, low, a warning like a wary cat growing at a wild raccoon through glass.
"It's all right, Katherine." Burt reached out again and squeezed her shoulder.
Katherine allowed it, and Warren watched in surprise, positively sick.
Warren wasn't the only one seeing shades of Hamlet. Jean-Paul clenched his jaw, tamped down on the urge to punch both of them, and squeezed Warren's hand instead. "Simon? How are things looking?"
Simon looked up, then returned to Warren's side, putting his phone away. "The NYPD have agreed to send detectives by our residences for statements later today, after the media rush has eased. Also, I alerted the legal team, who will have representatives present."
"Thanks, man." If Warren were an anime character, hearts would've appeared in his eyes. Instead, he was a goddamn Worthington, so he just nodded and kept the heart-eyes for later. As the elevator closed behind his father's gurney, he sighed at the windows. "God, I wish those could open."
"Warren, don't you dare..." Katherine said, though there was no heart in it.
Jean-Paul, however, was peasantry and due for a relapse (with a little help from their genius boyfriend). "Where's the rooftop access?"
"Come on," Warren said. "Mom, I'll call you later."
"You should be here. With the family," Burt said.
"I will be with my family," Warren said quietly as he headed for the corridor.
There was a weird vibe in front of Worthington Tower that didn't help Warren's nerves. Some ambulances around the corner and a lot of cop cars and a weird, hushed kind of atmosphere that was anti-Manhattan in general. Warren straightened his tie--he'd gone with just the waistcoat and no jacket, thanks to the heat, but he looked his damn best to be sure--and shot his boyfriends a worried look. Not his first of the day. Then he led the way into the lobby.
Shit, shit, shit....
Several police occupied the front desk and the hall that led to the elevators. Warren swallowed hard and, wordlessly, walked directly for them. He'd never had to announce himself at the desk before, and he was operating almost purely on autopilot today. There were new obstacles, but he was going to just pretend there weren't. Until someone made him acknowledge them.
Shittttttttttt...
It wasn't long. One of the officers stopped him though she stared at his wings for long enough that he knew she knew who he was. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're not to let anyone in or out."
"My father's expecting me." Warren glanced at his boyfriends. Yeah, okay, he was definitely not sending them over to the coffee shop--which looked shut down for the moment anyhow. Shitfuckmotherfucker what the hell is going on here??? "And they're with me."
Jean-Paul frowned, resisting the urge to maneuver himself between his lovers and the cops. "What's the disturbance about anyway?" he asked.
Simon said nothing, watching Jean-Paul posture and Warren start to falter. He'd never meant for this to be a sort of coming out for him and their relationship, but he couldn't help reaching out and laying a hand on the small of Warren's back, bolstering, comforting. He knew from experience that this much police presence, and the presence of the ambulances outside did not bode well, especially since no one seemed to be moving actively, as though the emergency were still ongoing. No, something had happened, and it wasn't likely to be good.
Warren only narrowly resisted the urge to bury his face in Simon's shoulder, but he shot him a grateful look for the hand. Jean-Paul taking the lead was a relief, too.
The officer shared another look with one of her comrades before saying, "Well, you should prepare yourself. There's been a death in the family. Come with me, please."
The blood seemed to drain from Warren's face. He nodded silently. He snagged Jean-Paul's arm as he moved forward, drawing him past the cops with him and Simon.
Warren's grip was a little too tight, all tension. Jean-Paul covered his hand with his own as they piled into the elevator, still doing his best to be a barrier between Warren and the rest of the world. He could all but sense what was coming, but hoped he was wrong. Just... let it be some distant visiting cousin. Please. Warren didn't deserve this.
All the air seemed to have left the tight confines of the elevator, and Simon let his mind race ahead of them, noting the floor button the officer chose and the soft crackle of an order through her radio. There were really only two candidates for the 'death in the family', at least in his opinion. The odds of this happening, though, on a day when Warren had been summoned for a meeting - was exceedingly suspicious, and he knew that the police would take note of it as well. Depending on the circumstances of the death, his boyfriend might end up being questioned, and Simon's brain began calling up New York State Law before they even reached the floor.
Even before Warren had wings, he'd grown used to all eyes being on him. He was the Worthington heir, he was captain of the team, he was rich, he was handsome--he'd grown up knowing all this, so it was no surprise. But now, as the elevator doors slid open to the penthouse floor, he was painfully aware that everyone knew he was coming, and everyone was staring. Law enforcement, Worthington security, his father's bodyguard, his mother's, a paramedic or two. He stepped out of the elevator in a haze, waiting to hear which one of them it was even while he tried desperately to think of anyone else it could be.
Just as his mind alighted on the happier possibility (of many horrors) that it'd be his estranged father's brother, Burtram, there he was, Uncle Burtram in the flesh. With an arm around Katherine Worthington's shoulders as she dabbed delicately at her eyes.
Warren noticed numbly that her mascara and eyeliner hadn't run, though the puffiness in her face said she'd been crying for an hour at least. Golf clap to her stylist.
"It's Dad," he said aloud as he met Katherine's gaze across the huge, airy room, just in case Jean-Paul and Simon hadn't realized who the occupants were, yet. The loud clicking of a stretcher being wheeled toward the giant desk near the wall of windows echoed the sentiment perfectly.
They were putting Warren K. Worthington, Jr. into it.
Jean-Paul supposed if he'd been raised with anything like normalcy, he'd have had some idea what to do or say that was comforting. Instead, his first instinct was a move toward defensive suspicion. This was all... so conveniently timed. But now wasn't the time. Instead, he gave Warren's hand a squeeze. If he didn't want to go to the rest of his so-called family, he didn't need to.
Simon's gaze zeroed in on the elder Worthington's body, noting the stretcher and the lack of blood evident. It was cold of him, he supposed to go first to a diagnosis than sympathy, but he couldn't help it. The rest of the people in the room made him nervous, mostly because of the overabundance of them there. He stayed close to Warren, though, just a step behind and off to one side, should he be needed.
Warren held up one finger to ask Jean-Paul and Simon to stay put, then squeezed JP's hand before moving to speak to his mother. His wings ruffled as Burt's gaze fixed to them. Warren hadn't seen him since... forever. Long before the wings had come in. "Mom," he said quietly as he reached her. "What...? How?" He wasn't looking at her, though, he was watching them lift his father. Dead weight. Dead.
"We don't know," said Katherine. "His PA found him and thought he'd dozed off--though he never did that... He was looking forward to our meeting today." She reached out one hand.
Warren took it briefly and gave it a squeeze, then they both let their hands fall. She was already showing a puffy face in public; that was a little much already.
"Who are they?" Burt asked.
"My boyfriends," Warren replied, distracted.
"Oh, Warren, did you have to...?" Katherine asked.
"I didn't know he was going to be dead when I got here," Warren replied. It sounded and felt like someone else's voice, though.
Katherine sniffled.
Burt frowned at the two boys waiting near the elevator, then returned his attention to Warren.
"How are you even here?" Warren asked once he managed to tear his gaze away from the stretcher.
"Good behavior," said Burt. "And your father invited me to the little reunion."
Warren had no idea what his father had been thinking. Was he in the same boat as Burt, in their minds? Embezzlement, fraud, and theft in general? Great. Just fucking great. He felt like this was all happening underwater.
Jean-Paul stood at Simon's side, tense and alert, eyes on Warren. "I don't think Warren's happy to see either of them," he murmured. "We should step in. He's outnumbered."
"There's another problem too," Simon breathed out quietly. "With this many people involved, the press are going to be alerted soon, and we don't have a quick and easy way out of the building. He doesn't need them crowding him with questions either."
Jean-Paul considered. "There has to be a window around here that actually opens, right?"
"Not this high up," Simon told him. "Building regulation. But we might be able to find roof access."
Jean-Paul nodded. "So long as you're OK with being carried. Let's go rescue our man, oui?"
Simon wasn't okay with it, not usually, but for Warren, he would brave death on the pavement below. Apparently, he would also brave Katherine Worthington's ire too, as he stepped forward with Jean-Paul to join Warren in quiet conference. "My condolences to you all. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Katherine looked at Simon blankly. Then at Jean-Paul.
Burt, at least, was a better actor in the circumstances. "Thanks very much, Mr..."
"Simon Tam and Jean-Paul Beaubier," Warren filled in the blanks before turning to his boyfriends. "He's been out of the loop lately. This is my uncle Burtram." A significant look.
Jean-Paul managed not to scowl at the mention; he and Simon knew the man by reputation, via Warren. He was a thief and a cheat, and his reappearance during a disaster was not something Jean-Paul was willing to take as coincidence.
Out loud, he played along. "I am sorry for your loss. Moreso that it's had to happen in a manner where the vultures are likely to show up sooner rather than later."
Simon nodded briefly in greeting to the man, but offered no more, instead turning toward Warren. "That said, would you like me to talk to the authorities about whether they will need a statement, and if it can be done in a more discreet location?" He glanced up at Katherine for a moment. "I can also alert my father's legal team, if you like."
"Thank you, we should be fine," Katherine said with a faint, labored smile. "But I don't think--"
"Would you?" Warren cut in to ask. God, the timing was so bad, so weird, the cops would definitely want to speak to him. But he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin--or possibly moult. "That'd be great. Thanks, Simon."
Katherine spared him an annoyed look, but the stretcher heading for the elevator distracted all three Worthingtons.
Simon ducked away while they were distracted, touching the arm of one of the officers nearby to speak to them in low tones. As he did, he pulled out his cellphone and began typing away at it, a grim, but professional look on his face.
"What happened," Warren asked, voice barely a whisper of a sudden, all the swagger gone out of him.
"Heart attack, probably." Burt shook his head.
"His heart was fine." Warren hadn't taken his eyes off the stretcher.
Katherine said, "We don't actually know. They'll--they'll have to do an autopsy."
"It looks like they're treating it like a crime scene," Warren said, shooting Jean-Paul a look.
Jean-Paul was suddenly, immensely grateful for Simon's offer of legal help. "I'm sure it's just standard procedure when the cause of death isn't immediately apparent." Placating, public-face bullshit. But it might keep Warren's family off their asses.
Warren grunted and nodded, wings ruffling because he knew what JP was doing and was eternally grateful, but couldn't respond coherently. He honestly felt like underwater. Too slow, too deliberate, fighting to move and breathe. Had time dilated or... what?
Katherine shot Jean-Paul what was almost a grateful look, though it was gone in a flash, and Burtram said, "That's what I told her."
"Did you, now," Warren muttered. He guessed Burt would know all about crime scenes.
"Warren," Katherine said, low, a warning like a wary cat growing at a wild raccoon through glass.
"It's all right, Katherine." Burt reached out again and squeezed her shoulder.
Katherine allowed it, and Warren watched in surprise, positively sick.
Warren wasn't the only one seeing shades of Hamlet. Jean-Paul clenched his jaw, tamped down on the urge to punch both of them, and squeezed Warren's hand instead. "Simon? How are things looking?"
Simon looked up, then returned to Warren's side, putting his phone away. "The NYPD have agreed to send detectives by our residences for statements later today, after the media rush has eased. Also, I alerted the legal team, who will have representatives present."
"Thanks, man." If Warren were an anime character, hearts would've appeared in his eyes. Instead, he was a goddamn Worthington, so he just nodded and kept the heart-eyes for later. As the elevator closed behind his father's gurney, he sighed at the windows. "God, I wish those could open."
"Warren, don't you dare..." Katherine said, though there was no heart in it.
Jean-Paul, however, was peasantry and due for a relapse (with a little help from their genius boyfriend). "Where's the rooftop access?"
"Come on," Warren said. "Mom, I'll call you later."
"You should be here. With the family," Burt said.
"I will be with my family," Warren said quietly as he headed for the corridor.
