LOG | WARREN AND ANGELO

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Once upon a time, Warren went on a bender in an epic case of 'cannot cope'. Angelo is lucky enough to get the call to come pick him up.

Warren had felt simultaneously shitty and angry after the comments from Jean and Adrienne - okay, yes, he shouldn't have lashed out at Jean. But Vanessa had been missing for a long time now - where was this concern and what not when it would have counted, when she first disappeared? The trail was past cold, it was corpse like. What trail there was.

But instead of lashing out at two people who weren't around when Vanessa disappeared, he took himself to a bar in District X. And another. And another.

Much later that night, a bartender went through Warren's phone, trying to find someone to come pick him up. Amanda didn't answer, and Angelo was next on the list. The bartender very helpful told Angelo where Warren was (outside, in the gutter) and that he was in no state to be taking himself home.

Warren was, in fact, sitting in the gutter. His nose was bloody from the fight he'd gotten in, and he'd have a fantastic black eye the next day. His wings were ruffled, more than a few feathers broken or falling out.

Angelo looked down at his friend - and that was a new experience - sighed, and sat down in the gutter next to him. "Tell me the other guy looks worse." "Of coursh," Warren slurred, trying to straighten himself up and failing, wincing as his side started to hurt. "I think I broke his arm."

"Well, that's somethin'." He studied the older man. "You're in no fit state to go home on your own, though. Which means you're crashin' with me an' John tonight."

"But." He blinked a couple of times, trying to remember his reason for protesting. "'Nessa's is closer. I can totally get there myself." He pushed himself up, only to stumble over and drive his shoulder in against Angelo. Uh. Well, okay, maybe he couldn't.

"Noooo", Angelo drawled, moving to both help Warren up and hold him up. "No flyin' when you can't stand up straight. Besides, I've got a nice warm car."

"You have a car?" Warren asked incredulously. "Angelo, I need to tell you something." There was a dramatic pause. "You are a very bad New Yorker."

Angelo laughed at him. "Nate gave her to me, back when I lived at the mansion. I do take the subway sometimes, but a car's better for collecting trashed friends in."

Warren shuddered a little at the mention of the subway. As much as he loved his city, he did not love that part all that much.

"That's why they invented taxis." Silly Angelo.

"Taxis are very useful things", Angelo agreed equably. "But I already had the Mustang all ready to go, and I don't think I'm all the way adjusted to having plenty of money yet."

"I forget that sometimes." Mostly when he was drunk. When Warren was drunk, his privilege showed more than just a little. He tried to move again, and slumped against Angelo.

"It's okay, a lot of people don't even realize", Angelo said easily. "I'm all respectable now and all. Even learned how to ditch the accent." He tried to nudge Warren into a slightly easier position for movement. "Think you're going to be able to walk?"

"Fuck respectable." Don't try and find any logic in his arguments tonight. Really. He tried to take a step and wobbled, holding on to Angelo tighter and trying again. This time he seemed to be stable enough.

"I can flyyyyyy. Did you know that?"

"Yeah, amigo, I knew that", Angelo said with the amused patience familiar to anyone who had ever dealt with a drunken friend while sober, and started to negotiate the route back to the car. "The big white wings are kind of a giveaway."

"Oh yeeeeeah." Warren went quiet for a bit after that, letting Angelo guide him to the car.

But eventually, of course, he had to break the silence.

"What if we can't find her?"

Angelo didn't have to ask who "she" was, and after a silent moment studying his friend's face, he said firmly, "We'll find her. We've got the best people in the world working on it - I mean, look, Snow Valley got Remy back alive, didn't they?"

"Yeah." Warren didn't sound like he was convinced at all, instead just going quiet again. The longer she was gone - and the longer there was no news - what hope Warren did have slowly started to wane.

"Hey. No goin' all morose drunk on me", Angelo ordered, the lightness of his tone covering real worry. "You have to keep believing she'll be back. It matters you don't give up."

"Not giving up," Warren murmured. "I just... don't know what else I can do."

"Then maybe it's time to step back, just a bit, and let other people take some of the load", he said gently. "I know how much she means to you, but you're only one guy. If you've done everything you can think of... maybe other people can think of other things."

"Isn't that just another way of giving up?" Warren didn't see the difference between giving up and stepping back. Either way, it meant he wasn't actively trying to find his girlfriend.

"No", was the quiet response. "It might feel like it, but it's really not. If you don't know what else to do, not drivin' yourself crazy doesn't mean givin' up. Specially if it's just to give yourself a break, a day or two to rest."

Warren didn't reply, instead just straightening a little so he wasn't leaning on Angelo quite so much. He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it more than it had been by the fight. Maybe things would look better in the morning.

Angelo sighed, looking sideways and up at the taller man, but didn't say anything more on the subject as they turned the corner. "Car's just down there."