warren and cameron
Apr. 10th, 2004 09:12 pmA bar in NYC. Warren meets up with his old college buddy Cameron for the first time in almost a year. Backdated to Saturday.
Warren swung open the door to the Warwick to see Cameron already waiting at the bar, his back to the entrance. Warren checked his watch. He was exactly three minutes late-- early by his standards, but over the last year, he'd forgotten how punctual Cameron was. He paused, readjusting his shirt to make it fit better over the harness that he always wore. Finally, he crossed to the bar and slid into the seat next to his old college buddy. "Sorry I'm late."
Cameron affected a friendly grin - an almost entirely genuine one. "I'll overlook it, just this once." He said, entirely unseriously. "Buy me a drink, and I'll forget it ever happened. Of course, then, the next time, since I'll have forgotten, I'll over look it, offer to let you buy me a drink, and .. " He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Free drinks for life. "
"Always the clever one," Warren laughed. He called the bartender over and ordered two Coronas with lime. "To the good old days, when we used to down these like water," he said with a tone of mock-seriousness, clinking his bottle against Cameron's. "So how's the fast-paced life of a successful New York City accountant treating you?" he asked after taking a sip.
"Good." Cameron nodded. "The client list is growing like a weed, most of them are content to sit back and let me handle their accounts, and " He waved his hand negligently. "I might have time to sleep, if I schedule things properly."
"Why am I not surprised?" Warren shook his head. "Same old Cameron. But hey, I heard Donald Trump only sleeps four hours a night, and look where that got him."
"Sleep is overrated." Cameron grinned. "I can sleep when I am painfully rich and lounging on a beach with nubile young lifeguards." He finished the last of his beer, and waved the bartender down for another. "How's... well, whatever you're doing these days treating you?"
Warren drained the last of his own drink. "I live and work at Xavier's School for Gifted Children," he reminded Cameron. "It's in upstate New York. Haven't I told you about it?"
"You did. I ... it must have slipping my mind." Cameron held back a frown, covering it with a long pull off his new bottle. "How's that treating you? Good for the philanthrophic image, I suspect."
Warren seemed a little surprised at Cameron's last statement, but he recovered quickly. "Ah, yeah. I suppose so." He signalled the bartender for a fresh bottle. "I enjoy it," he said. "I'm not very good with the really little kids, but the teenagers seem to like me well enough. Probably because I'm so young myself." He took a deep sip and smiled.
Cameron smirked. "That, or just your devestating good looks." He raised his bottle in a toast. "To the young, may they be as hormonal and clueless now as we were then."
"Amen to that." The bottles clinked triumphantly.
(Thanks to
x_tarot for socking Cameron.)
Warren swung open the door to the Warwick to see Cameron already waiting at the bar, his back to the entrance. Warren checked his watch. He was exactly three minutes late-- early by his standards, but over the last year, he'd forgotten how punctual Cameron was. He paused, readjusting his shirt to make it fit better over the harness that he always wore. Finally, he crossed to the bar and slid into the seat next to his old college buddy. "Sorry I'm late."
Cameron affected a friendly grin - an almost entirely genuine one. "I'll overlook it, just this once." He said, entirely unseriously. "Buy me a drink, and I'll forget it ever happened. Of course, then, the next time, since I'll have forgotten, I'll over look it, offer to let you buy me a drink, and .. " He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Free drinks for life. "
"Always the clever one," Warren laughed. He called the bartender over and ordered two Coronas with lime. "To the good old days, when we used to down these like water," he said with a tone of mock-seriousness, clinking his bottle against Cameron's. "So how's the fast-paced life of a successful New York City accountant treating you?" he asked after taking a sip.
"Good." Cameron nodded. "The client list is growing like a weed, most of them are content to sit back and let me handle their accounts, and " He waved his hand negligently. "I might have time to sleep, if I schedule things properly."
"Why am I not surprised?" Warren shook his head. "Same old Cameron. But hey, I heard Donald Trump only sleeps four hours a night, and look where that got him."
"Sleep is overrated." Cameron grinned. "I can sleep when I am painfully rich and lounging on a beach with nubile young lifeguards." He finished the last of his beer, and waved the bartender down for another. "How's... well, whatever you're doing these days treating you?"
Warren drained the last of his own drink. "I live and work at Xavier's School for Gifted Children," he reminded Cameron. "It's in upstate New York. Haven't I told you about it?"
"You did. I ... it must have slipping my mind." Cameron held back a frown, covering it with a long pull off his new bottle. "How's that treating you? Good for the philanthrophic image, I suspect."
Warren seemed a little surprised at Cameron's last statement, but he recovered quickly. "Ah, yeah. I suppose so." He signalled the bartender for a fresh bottle. "I enjoy it," he said. "I'm not very good with the really little kids, but the teenagers seem to like me well enough. Probably because I'm so young myself." He took a deep sip and smiled.
Cameron smirked. "That, or just your devestating good looks." He raised his bottle in a toast. "To the young, may they be as hormonal and clueless now as we were then."
"Amen to that." The bottles clinked triumphantly.
(Thanks to