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After a prolonged silence, Gabriel and Warren finally chat about what happened with Satanna.


Sunny days and warmer climes had taken their time to arrival. But after a late entrance, seasonally appropriate weather was finally here to stay.

For Gabriel, it was a sign swimsuit season was around the corner — which meant he had mere weeks to work on his tan and eliminate any sign of winter so he'd be Speedo-ready.

At the moment, that meant lying on the roof with a joint and Bluetooth speakers, sporting fairly short swim trunks so the parts of his skin that had been covered for months would finally get some rays. It was early in the season for the flying set, and other than them, Quentin was the only one that Gabriel generally saw up here. So he felt reasonably assured that the peace he'd enjoyed for the last hour or so would remain.

It was strange, walking through the Mansion when he knew he was leaving and no one else knew. Some knew. Not many. And Warren preferred to keep it that way. Although he felt like he'd matured since his whole demon thing, at the same time, knowing he had a debt of gratitude to many, a debt he'd never be able to pay back...well, it made him feel very uncomfortable.

Leaving was a better option. Definitely.

When he went outside to the roof to appreciate the sun, laptop under his arm, he was a little surprised to see Gabriel. Now there was someone he absolutely had been avoiding, while at the same time he knew he had to talk to him. Sighing, he figured what was the point in leaving? Sitting down, he glanced at Gabriel and smirked. "For a Spanish guy, you're pretty white right now. For shame."

"Surprisingly racist, even for you," Gabriel shot back, not even bothering to lift his head from his towel. "For the record, I'm Chicano, and la Raza generally calls itself Hispanic now." He took a drag off the joint and rather politely blew the smoke away from Warren's direction. As much as he disliked the other man, Gabriel was hardly a savage.

"But fine," he said, mostly out of courtesy. "I'm more khaki than I ought to be."

Khaki was a colour favoured by white people, but Warren bit his tongue. The last thing he needed was some weird race conversation when he was dead sober. Ugh, this life was killing him. "Anyways," he said dismissively. "I was looking for you but hoping I wouldn't run into you." He placed the laptop on the roof, made sure it wasn't going to slide off and took off his jacket. It might look odd, to see someone in business clothes relaxing on a roof, but one thing he'd learned in his years at the Mansion, was that no one actually cared. It was kind of nice. "You have a minute to talk?"

"Clearly I do," Gabriel intoned. He wasn't planning to leave the roof, even though his repose had been disturbed by the one person in the mansion most capable of disturbing it. The idea that Warren would have been looking for him was striking, given how little the two of them tried to find an occasion to speak to each other. He stubbed the joint out and turned the volume on his speakers down. "What sin have I committed against the House of Worthington now?"

Instead of answering Gabriel, Warren turned towards his laptop and turned it on, deliberately ignoring the other man. Sure, he respected him a bit more now, but he still didn't like him much. A few minutes later, Warren hit the enter button with a perverse satisfaction. "There. Congratulations, Gabriel. You have now officially become a platinum donor for the ACLU and The Centre. Good luck trying to match this next year. I hope you enjoy the non-stop calling, emails, letters and speaking opportunities, since I made it very clear you have a voice and aren't afraid to use it." He grinned.

Gabriel sat up, eyeing Warren with his lips pursed. He let out a small sigh. "What do you actually want, Warren? Is this, like, a giant charitable donation to get some kind of favor?"

Warren gave Gabriel a wide-eyed look. "I have no idea what you mean. I'm simply repaying the favour you gave me when you didn't leave me to die."

A favor that Gabriel was, at the moment, regretting. "Oh." He nodded and shrugged. "Whatever." He scratched the back of his neck for a second then smirked. "Oh." He said again, clearly amused. "You really can't bring yourself to say thank you, can you?"

No, he really couldn't. That would mean he owed Gabriel, and he felt it hard to do that.... Kevin, he did it for Felicia. Fi had dragged Kevin into it and Kevin basically helped rally the troops, so to speak. But Gabriel....that relationship had always been such a tenuous balance of 'I really don't like you but I can co-exist with you. If I have to'.

And it was a balance because nothing pushed it on one end to another.

But this? Damn it all.

"If that's what you want to believe, go for it. Haven't I thanked you already?"

"No," Gabriel pointed out without a moment's hesitation. "No, you haven't." He wasn't sure that he was annoyed, exactly. This behavior perfectly met his expectations of Warren. And yet there was something about what Warren decided to instead — offer presumably outrageous charity donations under the guise of a practical joke — that was finding its way under his skin.

"But whatever." He sounded more weary than exasperated as he turned to reach for a bottle of water he'd brought upstairs with him. "It's not like I expected one anyway."

Warren sighed. "Then I just planned it out in my head and meant to say it and never did." He looked down at his computer, and sighed again, putting it aside. "I appreciate what you did for me. I do. I never expected it and to be honest, I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like there's something you're wanting from me. So, since we both know you won't take my money, charities will happily." He cleared his throat. "So. Yeah. "

Gabriel didn't say anything for a second, instead sipping from his water bottle. "Listen," he said, hedging before he'd even started. "I don't particularly like you, which is really no secret. Other people do, which, okay," he offered an exaggerated shrug. "Fine." It was clear how little he understood that assessment. "The point is, I don't hate you so much that I'd, like, let you die. Especially since it would bum a lot of people I care about out."

The older man stayed quiet for a moment. "You'd be surprised what you're capable of," Warren finally said. " I know that's what I learned out of this." That he had a greatest capacity for anger, depravity, hedonism than he'd ever thought. And it scared him. Deeply. If he ever got to that point again ... he mentally shook his head. No. It wouldn't get there again. "Anyways, like I said. I appreciate it." He reached for his laptop and brushed the bottom of it.

"I'll see you around."

"Sure." Gabriel scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to react to Warren saying something introspective. "Hey," he finally said after a second of somewhat awkward silence. "I meant what I said. I didn't do anything for an IOU, and I definitely didn't do anything for you. But that doesn't mean that one of these days, I won't show up looking for a favor from you. And whatever it is, I'm sure you're not going to like it." He shrugged. "Just thought you should have something to look forward to."

Warren gave a soft snort and looked over at Gabriel. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say more. Maybe an actual good bye.

Nah.

"See you around."

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