Warren and Bobby | Friday Night

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Earlier this evening, Bobby and Warren have drinks, and they talk business. Mostly.

Among the many things Warren had done since his fight with his father, firing his accountant was one of them. And while he hadn't had trouble finding a replacement, there were some projects he'd rather someone he trusted to be involved. Which was why he'd dragged Bobby out for a drink, though he hadn't explained why to the other man at the time. He'd gone to the bar to pick up the first round, now returning to the table they'd snagged and setting a drink down in front of Bobby.

"That is what you still drink, isn't it?"

"Anything save grain alcohol is what I drink now a days." Bobby leaned back in his booth a smile on his face as he leaned forward to grab the mug around its top. Instantly the whole glass fogged over with ice. It was an old habit that would probably never die. "That's the beauty of living in Europe for a while. Now, everything I drink that isn't Guinness tastes like gold."

Warren just laughed at that, shaking his head. "Of all the alcohol you could drink over there, all you drank was Guinness?" Not that he had anything against Guinness, but European beers were typically far better than American ones. At least in Warren's somewhat snobbish opinion.

Bobby slowly pulled the drink down from his lips as he began to talk. "Well it was either that or the whiskey that I'm pretty sure they were distilling from the old oil in their car." He shrugged with a smile. "At least it was cheap and cleared out your sinuses for a few months."

Warren resisted the temptation to bury his face in his hands. "Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with you, Bobby Drake."

"That's what they all say." Bobby grinned as he took another sip. "So what is it that brings the winged wonder out to this lowly bar tonight?" He raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've finally given in and are about to let me convert you into a baseball fan?"

"Why would I watch baseball when tennis players are far better looking?" Warren had his priorities straight (... or not, as the case may be), and if he was going to sit watching people play a sport for hours, he'd prefer to at least be watching pretty people. "Actually, I need your help with something. If you're up for it."

"I can't argue with you on that one." The mere brief thought of Maria Sharapova was enough to bring a smile to Bobby's face before he was brought back into the reality of the situation. His eyebrow instinctively raised. "I don't know how to respond to needing my help. The last time a team member asked me for help, I almost ended up melted in the middle of Asia."

Warren laughed. "I'm fairly certain you won't end up melted this time. It's your brain and your time that I need on this one."

Bobby let his drink down on the table with a small thud in the process. "Well then, I better stop drinking." Leaning back in the booth he smiled. "What do ya have going on?"

"Where to start?" Warren hadn't really spoken much to anyone about the fight with his father, and so it was hard to explain this without explaining that. But he still wasn't sure how to put it, so he started later in the tale. "I recently fired my accountant, and while I have someone lined up to take over looking after things, there are some projects I'd rather have someone I trust working with me on them. And naturally, I thought of you."

"You shouldn't tell an accountant you trust them Warren. That's the easiest way for them to start skimming off the top." Bobby laughed at his own joke. Maybe he really did need to slow down the preserve his brain cells. "Why are you coming to me with this though. I have some experience with accounting, but what kind of projects require so much yellow tape?"

"I'm not that inept when it comes to the books," Warren said with a grin. "I've got some things I'm doing, or that I want to do within District X. A trust for the Angels Clinic, and Jean-Paul and I have been working on a project to help out some of the small businesses in the area. I was going to have my former accountant help with it, but..." He shrugged. "Well, he's gone, and I think I'd rather have someone who will care about the project help me with it. It's... well, the idea is something of a small, no-interest loans scheme, and I need someone who can take a look at the books and help decide where the money does go."

"Able to handle money manners check. Passionate about the people you're trying to take care of in District X, check. I'm just worried about what happened the the former accountant." He cocked his head to the side. "He didn't wind up at the bottom of a river in concrete boots did he?"

"Not at all," Warren said with a bit of a laugh. "He's one of the family accountants, and was basically reporting all my moves to my father." He shrugged, playing it off as less of a deal than it was. "I don't like having my father looking over my shoulder."

"Well I was going to call him tonight and report everything you said. Was that a major no-no in the process." Drake couldn't help but smile. "Seriously though Warren, I'm there for you and know when I need to keep my mouth shut. And after seeing how the kids were treated in District X for a while, I'm more than motivated to help out."

Warren grinned and lifted his glass to Bobby. "Glad to have you on board. I'll talk to Jean-Paul, set up a meeting so we can talk about it all and catch you up."

"As long as there are drinks there, there's no cement, and you guys aren't secretly bringing me to some kind of mutant strip club, then I think we're set." Bobby counted off the points on his fingers as he talked.

"Damn, no strippers?" Warren grinned at that. "It's alright, I don't think I could find one you and Jean-Paul would both enjoy. I'll just stick to good food and alcohol, shall I?"

"And keep the Irish alcohol away from the books in my office,and I think we could develop a beautiful relationship here Warren." Bobby's smile grew as he picked up his mug once again.

"No Irish alcohol. Deal." Warren chuckled. "You're going to be in a bit of trouble next time you visit Terry, if you're swearing off Irish booze."

"We don't have the bring the red head into this now do we?" Bobby let out another chuckle as he raised his glass in the air towards his comrade. "To our upcoming business ventures. May they not leave us penniless... or at the bottom of a lake... or melted..."

"If you like," Warren replied, not pushing Bobby further on the subject of his wife. "Cheers to that," he finished, clinking his glass against Bobby's. "Though now I think I'm going to have to ask about the strippers. Sounds like there is a story there."

Bobby pulled his drink up to his lips to stop himself from replying immediately. "That my friend was another life, and oh so many drinks before." He winked at Warren before returning to his drink, avoiding questions was something he had become very good at since the time he had been separated from his wife. Maybe it would even help him in some of the trickier parts of accounting.

"Bobby," Warren said, attempting a serious tone and expression, though failing with the latter. "Are you even old enough to start talking about another life?" His expression broke, and he grinned, clearly teasing his friend. Bobby wasn't too much younger than Warren was.

Drake put his now empty mug down. "After a few more of those, I'll be entering into another one to be honest with you." He grinned at his friend across the table.

"Is that an invitation to get you drunk and take advantage of you?" Warren countered, the grin on his face broadening.

Bobby leaned back in his seat. "We don't wanna start stirring up a whole new bag of issues with my wife now do we? After all, don't most business men only hire their accountants because of their pretty faces." Bobby perked both eyebrows up for a second.

"That's secretaries," Warren replied with a matching waggle of his eyebrows. "And hey, you were the one who didn't want to bring your wife into things. I'm just respecting your wishes."

"Then as long as I don't have to go to the meeting where you two are picking out your secretaries, I think that we can finalize this thing." Bobby reached his hand across the table. "Happy to be on board."

"I think I'll end up doing most of that work, at least to start with." No point hiring someone to do a job if you're not sure the venture will pan out. Warren grinned, taking Bobby's hand and shaking it firm. "Good to have you." There was a pause. "I think this calls for another drink." To celebrate, of course.