Warren and Kevin -- Drinking buddies
Apr. 28th, 2017 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logs "What the hell are you doing here?" Warren glared at Kevin, who not only had invaded his personal, private, ultra exclusive drinking establishment, but who was sitting on his chair. His chair. The only chair worthy of the Worthington ass.
"You can only come in here if you can measure your pedigree back to the prehistoric ages. In fact, last time I checked, they draw blood at the door to see if it's blue enough."
"And yet, here I am. It's a funny old world, isn't it, son?" Kevin said over a pull of top shelf scotch served in fine cut crystal that was worth as much as a car.
There was an anger simmering inside as Warren watched Kevin act like he belonged. Ever since their initial meeting on the roof, Warren found he'd greatly disliked the older man. It was easy enough to avoid Kevin at the mansion, and he'd thought it'd be even easier to avoid him outside, and yet here he was. "I'm not your son," Warren responded, reluctantly sitting down next to Kevin. "And I will figure out how you got here. This is fraud, you know. Misrepresenting yourself as someone important."
"That's true, but I won't rat you out to them." Kevin waved for another glass for Warren. "Funny, first time I was in this place was 1971. All of the waiters were still black and the Civil War was being re-fought at the bar on a nightly basis. The Rebs had a distinct advantage."
Warren automatically reached for the glass before stopping himself. "How are you paying for this?"
"It's on account." Kevin leaned back in his chair, enjoying the obvious discomfort of the younger man. He was a little surprised that Worthington had taken an interest in the club that had been his father's private one for years. It was established before the first World War, although the attendees had definitely trended younger from his last time here.
"Account?" You had to have a personal net worth of at least $100 million to get an account. Warren found himself resizing Kevin. Who WAS this man? Downing his drink, he motioned for another. "You are a strange man."
"No, Warren. I'm an old man. And because I'm an old man, I know how a lot of things really work and how to take advantage of them." He was enjoying the back and forth. "You think having money makes you important. Really, it is having influence that matters. And while money can often buy that, there's a limit to haw far it can go."
Warren made a dismissive noise. "Obviously. Confidence also matters. If you can't act the part, don't bother playing the game." he gave a malicious looking grin. "Because that's when an evil corporation like mine swoops in and acquires all your assets."
"Man, we used to love wealthy heirs like you at the Agency. An entire life conditioned to being able to throw money at something to win..." He shrugged. "Not to say it doesn't have its advantages, but it falls short more often than you might think."
"Again, obviously. You're not saying anything I don't know, Kevin." Warren raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were so ancient, you had something interesting to share."
"That's the thing about being ancient. You live long enough, you see everything repeat itself over and over." Kevin finished off his drink and a silent waiter quickly replaced it. "For example, I remember when your old man was basically you. Not as attractive. You can thank your mother for that. Biggest difference was that he was always ready to cut someone's throat if it profited him. Your grandfather was some kind of son-of-a-bitch, and he made damn sure his son was just as ruthless. I haven't seen that in you."
Warren gave Kevin a wary look. "How the hell do you know my family? Who are you, anyways?"
"Like I said... an old man. And I've been moving in these circles since your father was in diapers." Kevin shrugged. He was enjoying the discomfort on the young man's face. He'd need to learn to hide his feelings better if he was going to take on some of Worthington's more... interesting clients. "Misrepresenting myself as someone important, of course."
"Of course." Warren took another sip of his drink. "You're just strange. I have nothing really else to say to you other than it's always uncomfortable speaking with you."
"As it should be." Kevin drained his drink and clasped Warren on the shoulder. "Just a word of advice. If you want to be as successful as your ego wants, you're going to need the help of people like me. Sooner you figure that out, sooner you make it happen. Thanks for the drink."
He headed out, collecting his coat and leaving down the stairs. The waiter returned to Warren's elbow. "can I get you anything else, sir?"
Warren shook his head. "No, thank you." He started to get up, when the waiter spoke again.
"Of course, sir. And will you be settling your expense account today?"
The billionaire gave the waiter a seething glare. "Excuse me? I realize I haven't been here in months, but last I checked, the policy stated clearly that I pay when my account is maxed."
A fine sheen of sweat crossed the waiter's face. "Um, well, yes sir. That is correct. Your account is due for payment, as it has maxed out. Management is kindly requesting you settle."
"Months. I haven't been here in months." Warren was trying his best not to speak loudly, but a few curious heads had already turned. He would be having choice words with the management about this."
"Yes sir, but Mr. Sydney -- whom you authorized in September -- comes here on a weekly basis. He has...rather expensive tastes. " The waiter pulled out an itemized list and at a quick glance, it was enough to max out a credit card.
Warren's jaw clenched. Fucking hell. He'd find out how later. Clearing his throat, he plastered a smile. "Of course. How inconsiderate of me to leave your fine establishment waiting payment. This won't happen again."
He'd be talking to Kevin soon enough.
"You can only come in here if you can measure your pedigree back to the prehistoric ages. In fact, last time I checked, they draw blood at the door to see if it's blue enough."
"And yet, here I am. It's a funny old world, isn't it, son?" Kevin said over a pull of top shelf scotch served in fine cut crystal that was worth as much as a car.
There was an anger simmering inside as Warren watched Kevin act like he belonged. Ever since their initial meeting on the roof, Warren found he'd greatly disliked the older man. It was easy enough to avoid Kevin at the mansion, and he'd thought it'd be even easier to avoid him outside, and yet here he was. "I'm not your son," Warren responded, reluctantly sitting down next to Kevin. "And I will figure out how you got here. This is fraud, you know. Misrepresenting yourself as someone important."
"That's true, but I won't rat you out to them." Kevin waved for another glass for Warren. "Funny, first time I was in this place was 1971. All of the waiters were still black and the Civil War was being re-fought at the bar on a nightly basis. The Rebs had a distinct advantage."
Warren automatically reached for the glass before stopping himself. "How are you paying for this?"
"It's on account." Kevin leaned back in his chair, enjoying the obvious discomfort of the younger man. He was a little surprised that Worthington had taken an interest in the club that had been his father's private one for years. It was established before the first World War, although the attendees had definitely trended younger from his last time here.
"Account?" You had to have a personal net worth of at least $100 million to get an account. Warren found himself resizing Kevin. Who WAS this man? Downing his drink, he motioned for another. "You are a strange man."
"No, Warren. I'm an old man. And because I'm an old man, I know how a lot of things really work and how to take advantage of them." He was enjoying the back and forth. "You think having money makes you important. Really, it is having influence that matters. And while money can often buy that, there's a limit to haw far it can go."
Warren made a dismissive noise. "Obviously. Confidence also matters. If you can't act the part, don't bother playing the game." he gave a malicious looking grin. "Because that's when an evil corporation like mine swoops in and acquires all your assets."
"Man, we used to love wealthy heirs like you at the Agency. An entire life conditioned to being able to throw money at something to win..." He shrugged. "Not to say it doesn't have its advantages, but it falls short more often than you might think."
"Again, obviously. You're not saying anything I don't know, Kevin." Warren raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were so ancient, you had something interesting to share."
"That's the thing about being ancient. You live long enough, you see everything repeat itself over and over." Kevin finished off his drink and a silent waiter quickly replaced it. "For example, I remember when your old man was basically you. Not as attractive. You can thank your mother for that. Biggest difference was that he was always ready to cut someone's throat if it profited him. Your grandfather was some kind of son-of-a-bitch, and he made damn sure his son was just as ruthless. I haven't seen that in you."
Warren gave Kevin a wary look. "How the hell do you know my family? Who are you, anyways?"
"Like I said... an old man. And I've been moving in these circles since your father was in diapers." Kevin shrugged. He was enjoying the discomfort on the young man's face. He'd need to learn to hide his feelings better if he was going to take on some of Worthington's more... interesting clients. "Misrepresenting myself as someone important, of course."
"Of course." Warren took another sip of his drink. "You're just strange. I have nothing really else to say to you other than it's always uncomfortable speaking with you."
"As it should be." Kevin drained his drink and clasped Warren on the shoulder. "Just a word of advice. If you want to be as successful as your ego wants, you're going to need the help of people like me. Sooner you figure that out, sooner you make it happen. Thanks for the drink."
He headed out, collecting his coat and leaving down the stairs. The waiter returned to Warren's elbow. "can I get you anything else, sir?"
Warren shook his head. "No, thank you." He started to get up, when the waiter spoke again.
"Of course, sir. And will you be settling your expense account today?"
The billionaire gave the waiter a seething glare. "Excuse me? I realize I haven't been here in months, but last I checked, the policy stated clearly that I pay when my account is maxed."
A fine sheen of sweat crossed the waiter's face. "Um, well, yes sir. That is correct. Your account is due for payment, as it has maxed out. Management is kindly requesting you settle."
"Months. I haven't been here in months." Warren was trying his best not to speak loudly, but a few curious heads had already turned. He would be having choice words with the management about this."
"Yes sir, but Mr. Sydney -- whom you authorized in September -- comes here on a weekly basis. He has...rather expensive tastes. " The waiter pulled out an itemized list and at a quick glance, it was enough to max out a credit card.
Warren's jaw clenched. Fucking hell. He'd find out how later. Clearing his throat, he plastered a smile. "Of course. How inconsiderate of me to leave your fine establishment waiting payment. This won't happen again."
He'd be talking to Kevin soon enough.
