X-Factor, Thursday afternoon
Oct. 26th, 2017 12:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsQuentin attends his own wake.
It was appropriately sunny. Warren thought it would have made Quentin's heart glad to see the golden streaks in Warren's hair. His hairdresser really had outdone herself.
He looked around the group and gave a somber nod. "Thank you for coming here today. I thought it only fitting that we pay our respects to poor, departed Quentin. Now, I quickly read a Psychology Now article on grief, and I think I can safely say I'm an expert. Remember everyone, hallucinations are a perfectly normal reaction to loss. We might hear, see or even touch Quentin but he's not here. Not in the way that matters or affects my bank account." Warren reached up and touched a hand to his heart. "So sad."
The man in question was standing in a corner, arms folded and leaning against the door. He did not know what game Worthington was playing at, but this joke was going to get stale quickly. Better nip it in the bud before then.
Alex raised an eyebrow, looking at Warren, then back at Quentin, then Warren again. Oh, what the hell. "Yeah, so very sad," he agreed solemnly. "I can almost still see him, you know."
"It's as if his presence lingers on, watching over us. Almost as if we've got our own guardian angel," Sue agreed as an amused smirk pulled at her lips, her blue eyes twinkling with laughter. "I never knew he cared so much."
"I just hope he will rest in peace soon. Though our lives will be less colorful with him gone." Hope stated earnestly, her face smooth and her hands neatly folded in her lap as she ignored the man standing in the corner.
POP. Lorna had her arms crossed as she was chewing her bubble gum. "Now I am the only one with the odd colored hair."
"You all are a bunch of dicks," Bobbi said as she leaned on the building's edge and looked out over the rooftop at their surroundings below, arms crossed and back on to most of them. There was a hint of a smirk on her face just the same, however.
"Seriously," Quentin agreed. "What the actual fuck, assholes. This is some lame-ass Tom Sawyer shit."
"Now, I've been compared to a lame Tom Sawyer before," Warren continued, his voice booming, "but he had no money, so that's a terrible comparison." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a few things. "I thought it only fitting to sacrifice a few things in QQ's memory." First, a flask, which he poured out on the ground. "Jack Daniels, for the bottom shelf guy he was." He lit a joint and ashed it on the ground, offering it to the circle. "Another one for my homie. Finally, my stash will be safe." And lastly, his credit card, which he cut into little pieces. "Quentin's favourite credit card. I'll miss all his Sexxcapades purchases. They were always more questionable than my own."
"Now that's just extra cruel," Quentin moaned. Without his telepathy, how was he supposed to access Warren's accounts now? That three-grand Givenchy bomber jacket would never be his.
"You know, I'm going to miss all the weird looks from the postman as he delievered all those little packages," Sue allowed nostalgically, feigning like she hadn't heard Quentin speak. "Still, I suppose we'll have to take all his things and donate them to charity or something. I know he'd love that."
"Wait, guys." Alex put a hand to his ear. "I can still hear him, I think. Does our policy cover grief counseling?"
"I agree with Ghost Quentin. That is cruel." Lorna looked at the card in pieces and shook her head.
"Cruel but not unusual, not for Warren anyway," said Bobbi with a sigh. "I'm not cleaning any of that up, by the by."
"Now where is that number?" Hope muttered as she scrolled down various windows on her phone. "I once found someone who claims to be able to deal with ghosts... unless we want to try salting and burning herself... should check that with the magical types first if it's even true..." She looked up, given Warren a small grin. "I am sure you are willing to spring for that, are you not? A high quality exorcism or whatever it is properly called."
Warren nodded approvingly. "I like where you're going with this, Hope. I also feel that this entire situation could have been avoided if only Q had remembered to submit his sick leave. Then I wouldn't have to automatically assume that he is still dead because if he really did get ressurected, he was due back to work on Monday."
"Eat my whole ass," Quentin said in disgust and turned to leave this cruel display of mockery and disrespect. He threw open the door and stomped down the steps like a petulant kid. "I still know your login password, you white asshole," he muttered. "Approve my own leave and sign my own damn timesheet. I don't have to sit through your garbage. And I'm taking your drugs, too!"
It was appropriately sunny. Warren thought it would have made Quentin's heart glad to see the golden streaks in Warren's hair. His hairdresser really had outdone herself.
He looked around the group and gave a somber nod. "Thank you for coming here today. I thought it only fitting that we pay our respects to poor, departed Quentin. Now, I quickly read a Psychology Now article on grief, and I think I can safely say I'm an expert. Remember everyone, hallucinations are a perfectly normal reaction to loss. We might hear, see or even touch Quentin but he's not here. Not in the way that matters or affects my bank account." Warren reached up and touched a hand to his heart. "So sad."
The man in question was standing in a corner, arms folded and leaning against the door. He did not know what game Worthington was playing at, but this joke was going to get stale quickly. Better nip it in the bud before then.
Alex raised an eyebrow, looking at Warren, then back at Quentin, then Warren again. Oh, what the hell. "Yeah, so very sad," he agreed solemnly. "I can almost still see him, you know."
"It's as if his presence lingers on, watching over us. Almost as if we've got our own guardian angel," Sue agreed as an amused smirk pulled at her lips, her blue eyes twinkling with laughter. "I never knew he cared so much."
"I just hope he will rest in peace soon. Though our lives will be less colorful with him gone." Hope stated earnestly, her face smooth and her hands neatly folded in her lap as she ignored the man standing in the corner.
POP. Lorna had her arms crossed as she was chewing her bubble gum. "Now I am the only one with the odd colored hair."
"You all are a bunch of dicks," Bobbi said as she leaned on the building's edge and looked out over the rooftop at their surroundings below, arms crossed and back on to most of them. There was a hint of a smirk on her face just the same, however.
"Seriously," Quentin agreed. "What the actual fuck, assholes. This is some lame-ass Tom Sawyer shit."
"Now, I've been compared to a lame Tom Sawyer before," Warren continued, his voice booming, "but he had no money, so that's a terrible comparison." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a few things. "I thought it only fitting to sacrifice a few things in QQ's memory." First, a flask, which he poured out on the ground. "Jack Daniels, for the bottom shelf guy he was." He lit a joint and ashed it on the ground, offering it to the circle. "Another one for my homie. Finally, my stash will be safe." And lastly, his credit card, which he cut into little pieces. "Quentin's favourite credit card. I'll miss all his Sexxcapades purchases. They were always more questionable than my own."
"Now that's just extra cruel," Quentin moaned. Without his telepathy, how was he supposed to access Warren's accounts now? That three-grand Givenchy bomber jacket would never be his.
"You know, I'm going to miss all the weird looks from the postman as he delievered all those little packages," Sue allowed nostalgically, feigning like she hadn't heard Quentin speak. "Still, I suppose we'll have to take all his things and donate them to charity or something. I know he'd love that."
"Wait, guys." Alex put a hand to his ear. "I can still hear him, I think. Does our policy cover grief counseling?"
"I agree with Ghost Quentin. That is cruel." Lorna looked at the card in pieces and shook her head.
"Cruel but not unusual, not for Warren anyway," said Bobbi with a sigh. "I'm not cleaning any of that up, by the by."
"Now where is that number?" Hope muttered as she scrolled down various windows on her phone. "I once found someone who claims to be able to deal with ghosts... unless we want to try salting and burning herself... should check that with the magical types first if it's even true..." She looked up, given Warren a small grin. "I am sure you are willing to spring for that, are you not? A high quality exorcism or whatever it is properly called."
Warren nodded approvingly. "I like where you're going with this, Hope. I also feel that this entire situation could have been avoided if only Q had remembered to submit his sick leave. Then I wouldn't have to automatically assume that he is still dead because if he really did get ressurected, he was due back to work on Monday."
"Eat my whole ass," Quentin said in disgust and turned to leave this cruel display of mockery and disrespect. He threw open the door and stomped down the steps like a petulant kid. "I still know your login password, you white asshole," he muttered. "Approve my own leave and sign my own damn timesheet. I don't have to sit through your garbage. And I'm taking your drugs, too!"
