xp_logs | Miles & Warren, Sunday evening

Miles tracks down the hermiting Warren to check in on him. Things get deep.

‎Depression hit Warren differently than most people. He didn't change his eating habits or his sleeping patterns. He always bathed, and still dedicated himself fully to his work.

He just didn't bother ‎shaving or seeing people. His home was his castle, and at this point, he needed to feel like the king he knew he was.

Relaxing on the roof, a joint in one hand, sunglasses firmly on his face (regardless ‎that it was the evening)....this was the life. No one bothering him. Warren vs the world. Beautiful.

He not only refused to see people, he apparently also refused to speak with them or return their texts. Miles had called and messaged his kinda-boss a couple dozen times since he'd returned to the mansion and Scott's displeasure at his Spider-habits. And out of all of it, he'd only received one response, that Warren was fine and taking some personal time. Unacceptable, Miles thought. Vacation after all this was fine, but radio silence? Absolutely not.

So despite Scott's warning, Miles took a trip back into the city, over to Warren's penthouse. He'd never actually been there before, but he had the address, and thanks to some crafty camo and wall crawling, he didn't even need to use the front door to get inside. It was just a matter of climbing up several stories and flipping onto the rooftop.

"Ay, that smells so bad," he said as he shimmered into sight. "Is this what you're doing now?"

Warren gave a curious look as Miles reappeared. Stubbing out the joint, he sighed. "Well not anymore. I don't need to damage your brain anymore than my association with you does.‎"

Sitting up, he gave a smile. "Glad to see you're in one piece though. I bet the ladies at the mansion were happy to coddle you. Women love injuries."

Miles scoffed at the remark. "I've been hiding out since I got back. Haven't talked to anyone. There isn't anyone to talk to. I can't really go up to anyone and be like, 'Hey, I'm Spider-Man and I got beat up by my supervillain uncle, please hug me.' Even that's a little too weird."

"If you needed help hiding out, you should have let me know," Warren chided before stopping himself. "Oh wait, that would involve me checking my phone. Which I believe I locked in my safe.." He rubbed at his unshaved chin in thought. "I suppose I'll have to give you my ultra secret work number until I feel like looking at my personal phone again.". Warren's tone shifted as he got serious. "‎Do you need anything? You have health coverage right? Anything I can give you, I will."

The earnest generosity made Miles smile. "I'm fine, really. I heal fast." He took the seat next to Warren and stretched out to get comfortable. "I came just to make sure you were okay. No texts or anything, Matt hasn't seen or heard from you . . . are you okay? You got hurt pretty bad."

Two broken ribs, a concussion and a sprained wing. That didn't count all the bruises and scratches that had to heal ‎still. He was booking a spa weekend in the Bahamas after this.

"I'm fine," Warren responded, mimicking Miles position. They didn't need to look at each other to talk. ‎ "I also heal fairly quickly, and at this point, I'm just sore."

The older man stayed quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers on his chair. If it was anyone else, he probably wouldn't have said anything else, but he had a soft spot for Miles. Damn if the kid hadn't grown on him. "Did you get in a lot of trouble? I didn't think about how this would affect you. I'm sorry about that."

"Not a lot," Miles replied. "But enough. Scott . . . well, he didn't say 'You can't be Spider-Man anymore!' but I need to be more careful. It's one thing to stop a mugging or a bodega robbery. It's another to be going up against hi-tech evil relatives who know where you live. But it's not your fault." Of that much, Miles could be absolutely sure. "I know the risks. Peter and I agreed to help you 'cuz we trust you. That hasn't changed."

It was sweet, Miles' enthusiasm. Felicia had likened him to a puppy once and Warren was inclined to agree. "As the oldest one in one group, and easily the bossiest, it is my fault. I should have waited for XFI instead of going for it myself." Warren sighed heavily. "I promised your mother I wouldn't be a bad influence. What did you tell your parents?"

"Are you crazy? I haven't told them nothin'. I still haven't told them I'm a mutant or that I go to Mutant High. 'Bout Uncle Aaron, though . . ." Miles's face fell and he looked off to the city's skyline. "I have no idea if Dad knows about him. Uncle Aaron kinda implied that he does but I think he was just trying to piss me off. And I'm not gonna ask. I mean, I can't. How can I?"

Secrets upon secrets upon secrets. "Were you guys close to begin with? I can't remember.....‎why don't you ask your dad if he's talked with Aaron lately, and see what goes from there?". Warren cleared his throat. "Far be it from me to teach you how to lie, but if you come up with a theoretical conversation beforehand, it's easier to follow it later on. "

Still looking off into the distance, Miles shook his head. "Dad and Uncle Aaron haven't talked in a long time. They got into a fight or something a couple years ago. So I'm not supposed to talk to him, but Dad never told me why or what the fight was about so I . . . kinda didn't listen." The beginning of Miles's bad habits concerning his parents, maybe. "So I guess, if Uncle Aaron does let my dad know he's gone then I can just play dumb and pretend I haven't seen him in a long time. Just as long as he doesn't tell Dad about, you know, the other things about me . . ."

"Who is‎ your dad going to believe though? You or him?"

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but hopefully he hates Uncle Aaron enough to not believe him over me," Miles replied wryly. "I guess I'll worry about that if it ever comes to it. Hey, you'll adopt me if they kick me out, right? Let me live out that Annie fantasy. I can probably sing, too."

That comment hit Warren harder than he'd anticipated. He was chalking this up to the joint.

Sitting up, he leaned forward, his legs straddling his lounge chair. Clasping his hands in front of him, he looked at Miles earnestly. ‎"You are most likely the closest I will ever get to being a parent. I only have room for one youngster in my life, and that's you. If you ever need anything, it's yours."

Without waiting for an answer, he laid back down again and put his sunglasses on again. "And no singing unless you can tap dance too. I have standards."

The comment was meant to be a joke, as Miles didn't actually think that his parents would disown him if he told them the truth. Not that it would have been a nice conversation, but he was mostly sure that it would at least eventually end up with hugs and pupusas. But as he'd just lost his uncle who'd been as close a confidante as he'd had besides Ganke and Peter, Warren's oath had him choked up a bit, and he had to give himself a moment before he could reply.

"I can probably learn fast."

Warren grunted in approval. "Good. I can't wait to tell my mother we have a negro in the family."

If anyone else had said that, then they'd be nursing the injuries of a dozen of Miles's strongest venom blasts. But it just earned Warren the king of all side eyes and a grunt of disgust that would have made Cassandra Pentaghast proud. "Moment ruined. Man, leave the jokes to me and Peter."

"I'm high," Warren said by way of explanation. "I'm a walking anti-drug PSA."

"You're a walking example of the stuff rich white guys can get away with," Miles retorted. "So what's going to happen with your job? I mean like all the stuff that got stolen."

Warren smiled. Ah white privilege. Except he was slowly starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, that might not be a good thing. Grimacing, he sighed. "Well, I'm not destitute or anything, but we've lost a lot of credibility. Investors aren't confident so I've spent a lot of time writing proposals, researching.....I've been travelling quite a bit, and will be traveling a lot more in the next few months. The stuff that's stolen...well, that's all she wrote. Either Biotech rebuilds, or they don't."

"Why do you think Uncle A . . . I mean, Prowler. Why do you think he stole those things? Seems oddly specific, you know?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Warren looked over at Miles. "My father has been very secretive about Biotech. All I know is that the company is inherently anti-mutant, so I can only assume it isn't very nice." He sighed. "One other reason why I can never come out."

Miles sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. "I wonder if Prowler knew. Maybe he's trying to stop them. From doing anti-mutant stuff. I wish he'd said something . . ."

"Or maybe he was in on it," Warren pointed out. "Never underestimate a man who hates himself. It manifests in strange ways." ‎

"He wanted to me to join him. Like, be his bad guy thief apprentice. Went full Darth Vader. Can you imagine? Me? A bad guy? Crazy."

Warren snorted. If he was drinking something, he would've done a full blown spit-take. "Hardly. What's the worst thing you've done? ‎Stolen your dad's Playboys? Knicked a chocolate bar from the corner store?" He gave a wry grin. "Let's face it, Miles -- you're a good guy, through and through "

"I mean, technically everything I do as Spidey is against the law, especially when I harass los puercos. But that's like chaotic good. There's no evil there. He was really going for the wrong guy."

‎"No kidding". Warren lowered his sunglasses and looked over at Miles. "He would have had much better luck asking me."

Miles spun around so he was facing Warren and looked at him dead in the eyes, anguish and disbelief written plainly on his face. "Don't say that! You wouldn't."

There was a heavy pause before Warren answered Miles. "You know, I wish I saw myself the way you do. Because I can't ever guarantee I'll make the right choices. In fact, I'm fairly certain that while I make sound professional judgments, my personal ones are lackluster at best."

"Well, then get better at those," Miles advised him. "You've gotta be a little full of yourself to put on a special costume and think that fighting crime can make the world a better place. But it takes a lot more good to keep putting it on and keep fighting. And you do keep doing it. So ipso facto, you'd never fall for Prowler's trick."

"Do not confuse ego with heroism." Warren was on a roll tonight. He even reached to his pocket and frowned when he realised he didn't have his recorder. So many pearls of wisdom, lost to the night.‎ "But no, I probably wouldn't. A thief, by definition, has only what he can steal, and even that was someone else's. I like knowing my money is my own.". He chuckled. "I also like knowing that my father's money will also one day be mine as well. I really want his mansion."
‎
Clapping his hands suddenly on his thighs, he grinned. "Right. Hungry now. As you're a waking ball of testosterone, I can only assume you are too. Delivery sound good?"

"Sure. But you know, that's really not the actual definition of thief . . ."