xp_logs | Warren and Kevin -- Kevin 1, Warren 0

Warren and Kevin have a 'friendly' conversation on the roof. And by friendly, I mean snarky. Backdated to early Tuesday morning.

After a restless night, Warren finally gave up on sleep. Nagging thoughts kept at him, and in order to quell them, he decided to go for a flight. It had been some time since he'd had the opportunity to soar in the sky, and just be at peace with himself. In fact, after a few hours of doing so, he resolved to not let so much time pass before doing so. His wings ached with use, and the familiar stretch was almost as refreshing to him as sleep would be.

Of course, as the sun started to peek out and fill the sky with oranges and yellows, he made his way back to the flyer's platform. He may be brave, but he still had no desire to be seen by people who shouldn't see him. Landing softly on the roof, he noted another individual there, someone he'd never seen before. The man appeared to be having a smoke and reading the paper -- an odd spot to do so, thouht Warren, but who was he to judge? Reaching for the bag he had left previously, he opened it and pulled out a towel. "Are you new? Or have I somehow managed to completely miss you during my visits here?" Tossing the towel around his shoulders, he stuck out his hand, he continued. "I'm Warren. I don't actually live here, but I'm around enough to think I do."

"Warren Worthington the Third, unless I miss my guess. Heir to Worthington industries and the 26th largest private fortune in the United States." The man took a drag from his cigarette and turned a page on the paper. "I would say you're out of your element, but a private mansion in Westchester is practically your natural habitat."

"25th actually, but who's counting?" Warren tried to sound flippant about it, but his mind was going a mile a minute. Who was this man who spouted this type of information without blinking? Pretending as if his handshake hadn't been completely ignored, Warren reached up and tugged on the ends of his towel. "You have me at a loss, my friend. I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

"Friend? That's jumping this relationship forward faster than it merits." The man's eyes flicked up from the paper for a moment to meet his. "Kevin Sydney. I work for your... X... thing."

Abrasive was the first word that came to mind, but Warren had dealt with worse. Socialite mothers had a more potent bite. "I wouldn't know what you're talking about," Warren stated with a shrug. "I'm fairly new here, but I think there are several X things. I, for one, work with X Factor Investigations." Perhaps being friendly would draw this stranger out.

"Warren Worthington the Third works with anybody? Trust fund get clamped down on or is it about a piece of tail?" He snubbed out a cigarette and lit another. "Drink?"

"With. Not for. With." Warren felt the strange urge to justify himself but he shut that down. "And I find it strange that in all your knowledge about me, you don't know that I'm VP at Worthington Industries. I make my own money. Which is I will have to turn down your gracious offer of a drink. I work in a few hours."

"Yes, you're a Vice President of a company that was founded by your grandfather - who was some kind of ballbreaking prick, I might add - and that is run by your father. I imagine that must of been one hell of a tough interview to get in there." Kevin smirked. "So, did you use a recruiter or just get lucky with your application?"

"You speak as if you've been turned down by a power company or two," Warren replied with. He should walk away. He shouldn't engage. After all, who the hell was this man anyways? The name meant nothing to him, but the lack of sleep was getting to him. "And for your information, I've been working for the company since I've been allowed to. Started in the mail room. I haven't had everything handed to me, you know."

"The only people who say that are the people who have had everything handed to them." He took a measured sip from his glass and then topped it up from the bottle beside him. "After all, you didn't graduate from Wisconsin State and get your first mail room job. You never got passed over for promotion, never got sidelined by a female manager who took umbrage to your celeb page womanizing, never had someone else take credit for your work and certainly didn't risk getting fired for the various chippies you did in the copy room. Add on to that the best education money could and did buy. But sure, you're a VP because of plain old fashioned hard work. Just a faceless success on merit alone."

Warren's jaw was definitely clenching at this point. "I can't control the circumstances of my birth anymore than I can control my genetics. I'm sorry if that concept eludes you."

"Eludes me? No, it doesn't. I just don't pretend to be a regular person in spite of it. 'I make my own money'. 'I didn't have everything handed to me'." He took a sip and chuckled. "Angry, Warren? Your pinfeathers are shaking."

"I'm fine," Warren responded. "Simply wondering how a 'good morning' turned into this conversation."

"It is curious how conversations can twist and turn. They almost have a life of their own, it seems." He said with a pleasant smile.
‎
Who the hell was this person? No one had the audacity to talk to him like ‎this. "Unlike manners, which remain in place no matter the situation.". He almost said good breeding but that was a bit much. Besides. This Sydney wouldn't know good breeding if it hit him.

"I can think of plenty of situations where manners don't remain in place. A foxhole for one. But-" His smile never wavered. "That's something else that someone like yourself never has to worry about experiencing."
‎
"Wars are fought on various battlefields," Warren responded. "Some are simply more visible than others."

"And some aren't metaphors but actual wars. Led by actual politicians and done at the behest of rich war profiteers." He tossed off the last of his drink and refilled it.
‎
"I'm sorry. But what was it you said you did again? Spy games, was it?"‎

"Did I? I guess I must have. But yes, I work with X-Force."

From what little Warren knew about that program, it seemed like a good fit for someone of moral ambiguity who‎ clearly needed to constantly remind himself of his superiority.

Warren didn't ‎say any of that though. Instead he smiled and gave a slight nod. "Seems like a good team for you. I wish you the best. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for work."

"I'm sure you do. Say hi to the old man to me."