Warren & Lydia; backdated to July 21
Jul. 21st, 2013 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainOn their weekend away, Warren and Lydia discuss work and parties over fruity drinks.
Sunday afternoon, as their little vacation lingered, Lydia brought Warren the little umbrella-drink she'd promised him. She padded down to the sand in her bare feet, a little cover up dress over today's bikini, one bright red hurricane glass in each hand. When she reached his lounger, she stopped and handed the one with the green umbrella--the one with actual rum in it--to Warren. "Here you go, flyboy."
Now that the vacation was winding down and they were preparing to go back to the school, Warren was mentally prepping himself for his task today. Tell the student body he was planning to out himself. It was exciting, but also a little nerve wrecking, and he'd been critically dissecting his own thoughts all afternoon.
So. Needless to say? That little umbrella drink was welcomed, and he was more than happy to accept it. "Thank you. Though you might have to try and stop me from downing one too many of these!"
"Wouldn't want your big announcement to come out sounding like you've had a liquid lunch... and dinner." Lydia smiled and settled her own drink on a little stand on the far side of the other lounger, then started peeling off her cover up to reveal a simple bikini. She was going all out with the scar-baring on this trip; private beach meant she could do that in comfort--and Warren could enjoy the waves and his wings.
He certainly made a sight on the beach, all right. She had a tiny, philosophical moment of hoping he could do this anywhere, someday. It was quickly crushed by rationality and knowledge of just how long anything like it would take. But it was there, and that was... nice.
"Do you have a draft, already, or are you going to spur-of-the-moment your wording?"
"I mostly have a draft," Warren admitted, having wanted to be prepared or else he would have sat on his phone for hours trying to come up with something. It was funny because normally he had the tendency to be pretty impulsive about things, but this whole project had been anything but. Well. Maybe minus the corporate espionage, but...a leopard didn't always change its spots, right?
He pulled out said phone and handed it over to her. "Will you read it and tell me what you think or anything I should change?"
Lydia accepted the phone and settled into the lounger, then read. Occasionally, she sipped at her own drink. Eventually, she said, "I like it. It's personal, which is fabulous." In fact, far more heartfelt and perfect in that sense than she'd dared to hope for. Bonus, in her book--but then, wasn't this all? "It doesn't deny the consequences in the least.
"My only qualm with this is that the mention of us taking measures to keep it from following you home is brief. People will miss it on purpose just so they can complain. I'd place a little more emphasis on that aspect. Otherwise..." She looked up and met his gaze. "Really nicely done, Warren."
Warren nodded and considered that, loving that she could always pick up on the things that he overlooked. That made this easier, honestly. "Good call." He chewed on his lip. "Add more of that bit at the end, or just talk more about it in the middle? Or switch it around all together?"
Maybe leaving it off on that note would be better, just so it couldn't get glossed over?
"Slightly more in the middle, where you're already talking about it, I think," Lydia said thoughtfully, handing back his phone at last after another read. "Not a huge deal, but just a little something more specific--because it will absolutely be brought up by others."
And then, one of Lydia's ultimate compliments: "I trust your judgement from there."
"Thank you." For the feedback as well as the trust and compliment, as Warren was aware that they didn't always come so freely from Lydia. He then placed his phone down and let himself enjoy a long sip of that drink.
"You are so ready for this to get rolling. Completely calm, aren't you?" It was asked with a slight crack of a grin.
"More like--glad I seem to be." She stretched out her legs a little before settling again and sipping. "Let's just say I wish I could be sure rum would affect me--and if it did, that it'd be able to do it again someday when I really need it.
"But I do want to get it rolling. We're as ready as we'll ever be."
"Agreed. Shinobi texted me last night, too; it would seem his father is willing to have a chat with mine after all...which is another load off of my back that I didn't entirely want to deal with," he admitted quietly. Warren Junior was still going to lose his shit, the younger Worthington knew very well, but at least the likelihood of anything drastic was now off of the table. "He's just a thorn in my ass sometimes."
"Sounds like," Lydia admitted with a sigh. "Glad someone could do something for you about him, anyhow. Are you warning your parents ahead of time or going with the sneak attack there, too?"
Warren gave her a look that suggested the thought of telling them hadn't even been a fucking option. "Lyds, they'd have this whole operation unplugged the minute the first sentence left my lips to them. I may have access to their publicists and their media people, but they're still theirs. I have to be careful about what I say otherwise I'm as good as censored. The old man would see to it anyway possible."
Hence why he needed Shinobi's help with the aftermath at all. Of course, Warren Jr. wasn't guying to like the bombshell either, but at least he wouldn't be able to throw a hostile takeover. The way Warren saw it, it was much, much easier to beg forgiveness than it was to ask permission--at least in this circumstance.
She snorted out a humorless laugh at his description of his parents and their involvement. "Then yes, even happier there will be Shaw influence involved.
"My parents won't even notice until someone sees me on TV and calls them. Even then they'll be confused. I'll call Friday evening and tell them to deny it, if anyone asks. Or not." Lydia shrugged one shoulder and sipped delicately. She had no plans to officially come out, but she would be seen and on the record with Warren and Brian; it would be easy enough for them to believe what they wanted, like always. But she would warn them, and ask Tessa to watch them. And Gail.
Lydia never spoke much about her parents, and Warren felt like this was the first he even heard of them. "So your folks know about you, then?"
"No." Lydia set aside her fruity virgin drink and let herself sink into the lounger properly. Her voice was businesslike, absolutely direct, her face composed when she said: "They don't know anything about me, let alone my genetic status. There was no reason to tell them before now, and I didn't want to give them too much warning for this. I doubt they'll cause trouble--they never really do--but there's no point taking unnecessary risks."
"Fair enough." Warren could understand that. Hell, he never would have told his own father (nor would he have noticed) if it hadn't of come out of his mouth out of spite. Sometimes it was much easier just keeping out of their hair since they never seemed to put forward the effort to bother with him anyway, and maybe Lydia's upbringing was similar. Warren didn't know, and he got the hint that it wasn't best to press any further.
"So where did you plan on lying low after everything? If you need a place, you're welcome to mine." Not that it would be the most pleasant environment, but it still felt proper to extend the courtesy regardless.
She smiled and glanced his direction. "If you plan on throwing a party, definitely call--or if you need anything, seriously. I'm going to straighten things out with my department at school; get my schedule, check out the apartment I'm 'sharing' with some other grad students, talk to my advisor. Start providing myself with a realistic alternative living solution.
"If things don't kick up around me, I'll go back before the masquerade." She assumed someone would find out who she was and decide she was a mutant. If they asked, she would tell, and Warren knew that. But she didn't think that latter possibility was likely in the least, not when Warren Worthington III and Brian Braddock were standing there being all-too-tempting.
So she wasn't going to be that far away and that was good enough for Warren. Perhaps at some point he'd call her just so they could hang out in the city awhile (as if he needed to be staying at the estate 24/7, no thanks). "So if I don't nab you at some point for a day or night on the town then we'll have a victory drink at that party."
"It's a date," Lydia agreed, sipping again with a little smirk. "But please feel free to nab me. Checking the news every five minutes might start to get to me."
"And sticking around all day with my folks is a total nightmare in the making, so consider this a thing that'll happen." Even relaxing right then, like they'd been all weekend, didn't feel like rest enough for what was coming, so more unwinding was practically necessity!
"Mmm, yes, that is going to be unpleasant at best," Lydia said--with actual sympathy in her voice, if not so much her expression. Then she sighed, "We should not be talking about work-things. We should be talking about parties and fruity drinks and bathing suits, right?"
As if they ever talked about those things. Well, for more than two minutes at a time. But still--there had been a time in her life... possibly?
"Right." Except Warren was laughing already because, fuck, that seemed to be all they ever talked about. He liked Lydia just fine and didn't exactly want to associate her with nothing more than work. They'd spent enough time together by this point, after all. "I'll say then that you make a damn good fruity drink, and I can't say I won't bother you for another."
Because one more wouldn't kill him before typing up that speech--the 's' word that he won't say right then. They had vacation to finish!
"You're on." Lydia smirked. "It's the least I can do, as your PA.
"So let's gossip. Who do we think will have the most ridiculous costume at the masquerade?"
"Ridiculous as in scarily bad, or ridiculous as in fantastically all out and wonderfully over-the-top?" Warren questioned with a bit of a smirk. "If it's the first...I'm not sure. Ford and Ellie always scare me with their weird zombie!funeral looks. If it's the latter...come on. You know it's going to be Eames."
"Both kinds of ridiculous--but oh my god, you're right. I can already feel Arthur rolling his eyes." Lydia smirked. "Which I think might be his way of expressing affection."
"I would imagine so, yeah." Warren snorted with amusement and gave a small shake of the head. "Some people just aren't the mushy-gushy types. Frankly I'd be scared to find out if he was in secret." Only because Warren could never picture Arthur with anything other than slightly annoyed indifference in his expression.
"I promise not to tell if I found out he is--but I cannot see it happening." Lydia knew Arthur must have some serious feelings for Eames, to let him get away with what he did, of course. The pair were utterly adorable. But, well. She still couldn't see mushy-gushy, no. Then, speculatively, "But Arthur is occasionally suggestible. Wonder if Eames will convince him to dress up..."
That made Warren chuckle good-naturedly. "I imagine that it would be hard to say no to Eames. Charming bastard."
"Charming enough to break through to Arthur. It's horrifying if you think about it. Wonder if that's an extra mutation..."
Warren grinned cheekily. "Stranger things have happened, hm?"
Lydia sipped at her drink and smirked some more. "Around us, honey? For sure."
Sunday afternoon, as their little vacation lingered, Lydia brought Warren the little umbrella-drink she'd promised him. She padded down to the sand in her bare feet, a little cover up dress over today's bikini, one bright red hurricane glass in each hand. When she reached his lounger, she stopped and handed the one with the green umbrella--the one with actual rum in it--to Warren. "Here you go, flyboy."
Now that the vacation was winding down and they were preparing to go back to the school, Warren was mentally prepping himself for his task today. Tell the student body he was planning to out himself. It was exciting, but also a little nerve wrecking, and he'd been critically dissecting his own thoughts all afternoon.
So. Needless to say? That little umbrella drink was welcomed, and he was more than happy to accept it. "Thank you. Though you might have to try and stop me from downing one too many of these!"
"Wouldn't want your big announcement to come out sounding like you've had a liquid lunch... and dinner." Lydia smiled and settled her own drink on a little stand on the far side of the other lounger, then started peeling off her cover up to reveal a simple bikini. She was going all out with the scar-baring on this trip; private beach meant she could do that in comfort--and Warren could enjoy the waves and his wings.
He certainly made a sight on the beach, all right. She had a tiny, philosophical moment of hoping he could do this anywhere, someday. It was quickly crushed by rationality and knowledge of just how long anything like it would take. But it was there, and that was... nice.
"Do you have a draft, already, or are you going to spur-of-the-moment your wording?"
"I mostly have a draft," Warren admitted, having wanted to be prepared or else he would have sat on his phone for hours trying to come up with something. It was funny because normally he had the tendency to be pretty impulsive about things, but this whole project had been anything but. Well. Maybe minus the corporate espionage, but...a leopard didn't always change its spots, right?
He pulled out said phone and handed it over to her. "Will you read it and tell me what you think or anything I should change?"
Lydia accepted the phone and settled into the lounger, then read. Occasionally, she sipped at her own drink. Eventually, she said, "I like it. It's personal, which is fabulous." In fact, far more heartfelt and perfect in that sense than she'd dared to hope for. Bonus, in her book--but then, wasn't this all? "It doesn't deny the consequences in the least.
"My only qualm with this is that the mention of us taking measures to keep it from following you home is brief. People will miss it on purpose just so they can complain. I'd place a little more emphasis on that aspect. Otherwise..." She looked up and met his gaze. "Really nicely done, Warren."
Warren nodded and considered that, loving that she could always pick up on the things that he overlooked. That made this easier, honestly. "Good call." He chewed on his lip. "Add more of that bit at the end, or just talk more about it in the middle? Or switch it around all together?"
Maybe leaving it off on that note would be better, just so it couldn't get glossed over?
"Slightly more in the middle, where you're already talking about it, I think," Lydia said thoughtfully, handing back his phone at last after another read. "Not a huge deal, but just a little something more specific--because it will absolutely be brought up by others."
And then, one of Lydia's ultimate compliments: "I trust your judgement from there."
"Thank you." For the feedback as well as the trust and compliment, as Warren was aware that they didn't always come so freely from Lydia. He then placed his phone down and let himself enjoy a long sip of that drink.
"You are so ready for this to get rolling. Completely calm, aren't you?" It was asked with a slight crack of a grin.
"More like--glad I seem to be." She stretched out her legs a little before settling again and sipping. "Let's just say I wish I could be sure rum would affect me--and if it did, that it'd be able to do it again someday when I really need it.
"But I do want to get it rolling. We're as ready as we'll ever be."
"Agreed. Shinobi texted me last night, too; it would seem his father is willing to have a chat with mine after all...which is another load off of my back that I didn't entirely want to deal with," he admitted quietly. Warren Junior was still going to lose his shit, the younger Worthington knew very well, but at least the likelihood of anything drastic was now off of the table. "He's just a thorn in my ass sometimes."
"Sounds like," Lydia admitted with a sigh. "Glad someone could do something for you about him, anyhow. Are you warning your parents ahead of time or going with the sneak attack there, too?"
Warren gave her a look that suggested the thought of telling them hadn't even been a fucking option. "Lyds, they'd have this whole operation unplugged the minute the first sentence left my lips to them. I may have access to their publicists and their media people, but they're still theirs. I have to be careful about what I say otherwise I'm as good as censored. The old man would see to it anyway possible."
Hence why he needed Shinobi's help with the aftermath at all. Of course, Warren Jr. wasn't guying to like the bombshell either, but at least he wouldn't be able to throw a hostile takeover. The way Warren saw it, it was much, much easier to beg forgiveness than it was to ask permission--at least in this circumstance.
She snorted out a humorless laugh at his description of his parents and their involvement. "Then yes, even happier there will be Shaw influence involved.
"My parents won't even notice until someone sees me on TV and calls them. Even then they'll be confused. I'll call Friday evening and tell them to deny it, if anyone asks. Or not." Lydia shrugged one shoulder and sipped delicately. She had no plans to officially come out, but she would be seen and on the record with Warren and Brian; it would be easy enough for them to believe what they wanted, like always. But she would warn them, and ask Tessa to watch them. And Gail.
Lydia never spoke much about her parents, and Warren felt like this was the first he even heard of them. "So your folks know about you, then?"
"No." Lydia set aside her fruity virgin drink and let herself sink into the lounger properly. Her voice was businesslike, absolutely direct, her face composed when she said: "They don't know anything about me, let alone my genetic status. There was no reason to tell them before now, and I didn't want to give them too much warning for this. I doubt they'll cause trouble--they never really do--but there's no point taking unnecessary risks."
"Fair enough." Warren could understand that. Hell, he never would have told his own father (nor would he have noticed) if it hadn't of come out of his mouth out of spite. Sometimes it was much easier just keeping out of their hair since they never seemed to put forward the effort to bother with him anyway, and maybe Lydia's upbringing was similar. Warren didn't know, and he got the hint that it wasn't best to press any further.
"So where did you plan on lying low after everything? If you need a place, you're welcome to mine." Not that it would be the most pleasant environment, but it still felt proper to extend the courtesy regardless.
She smiled and glanced his direction. "If you plan on throwing a party, definitely call--or if you need anything, seriously. I'm going to straighten things out with my department at school; get my schedule, check out the apartment I'm 'sharing' with some other grad students, talk to my advisor. Start providing myself with a realistic alternative living solution.
"If things don't kick up around me, I'll go back before the masquerade." She assumed someone would find out who she was and decide she was a mutant. If they asked, she would tell, and Warren knew that. But she didn't think that latter possibility was likely in the least, not when Warren Worthington III and Brian Braddock were standing there being all-too-tempting.
So she wasn't going to be that far away and that was good enough for Warren. Perhaps at some point he'd call her just so they could hang out in the city awhile (as if he needed to be staying at the estate 24/7, no thanks). "So if I don't nab you at some point for a day or night on the town then we'll have a victory drink at that party."
"It's a date," Lydia agreed, sipping again with a little smirk. "But please feel free to nab me. Checking the news every five minutes might start to get to me."
"And sticking around all day with my folks is a total nightmare in the making, so consider this a thing that'll happen." Even relaxing right then, like they'd been all weekend, didn't feel like rest enough for what was coming, so more unwinding was practically necessity!
"Mmm, yes, that is going to be unpleasant at best," Lydia said--with actual sympathy in her voice, if not so much her expression. Then she sighed, "We should not be talking about work-things. We should be talking about parties and fruity drinks and bathing suits, right?"
As if they ever talked about those things. Well, for more than two minutes at a time. But still--there had been a time in her life... possibly?
"Right." Except Warren was laughing already because, fuck, that seemed to be all they ever talked about. He liked Lydia just fine and didn't exactly want to associate her with nothing more than work. They'd spent enough time together by this point, after all. "I'll say then that you make a damn good fruity drink, and I can't say I won't bother you for another."
Because one more wouldn't kill him before typing up that speech--the 's' word that he won't say right then. They had vacation to finish!
"You're on." Lydia smirked. "It's the least I can do, as your PA.
"So let's gossip. Who do we think will have the most ridiculous costume at the masquerade?"
"Ridiculous as in scarily bad, or ridiculous as in fantastically all out and wonderfully over-the-top?" Warren questioned with a bit of a smirk. "If it's the first...I'm not sure. Ford and Ellie always scare me with their weird zombie!funeral looks. If it's the latter...come on. You know it's going to be Eames."
"Both kinds of ridiculous--but oh my god, you're right. I can already feel Arthur rolling his eyes." Lydia smirked. "Which I think might be his way of expressing affection."
"I would imagine so, yeah." Warren snorted with amusement and gave a small shake of the head. "Some people just aren't the mushy-gushy types. Frankly I'd be scared to find out if he was in secret." Only because Warren could never picture Arthur with anything other than slightly annoyed indifference in his expression.
"I promise not to tell if I found out he is--but I cannot see it happening." Lydia knew Arthur must have some serious feelings for Eames, to let him get away with what he did, of course. The pair were utterly adorable. But, well. She still couldn't see mushy-gushy, no. Then, speculatively, "But Arthur is occasionally suggestible. Wonder if Eames will convince him to dress up..."
That made Warren chuckle good-naturedly. "I imagine that it would be hard to say no to Eames. Charming bastard."
"Charming enough to break through to Arthur. It's horrifying if you think about it. Wonder if that's an extra mutation..."
Warren grinned cheekily. "Stranger things have happened, hm?"
Lydia sipped at her drink and smirked some more. "Around us, honey? For sure."
