Quentin & Warren, Monday morning
Sep. 25th, 2023 08:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsQuentin has another surprise nightmare guest come to his office.
Everything was coming up Quentin this morning. He had gotten to the commuter line just as the train arrived, there were no delays on the subway to District X, and his favorite breakfast stop served him a bagel right out of the oven with a freshly brewed cup of coffee.
But as he stepped into his office and saw who was puttering around, he had to wonder if he had pissed off Arthur or something in such a way that his great early morning was immediately turned on its head and he was now experiencing a waking nightmare.
"Worthington. The fuck are you doing here?"
Warren barely gave Quentin a glance as he flipped through some papers. Although he'd given up all façade of being anything but the financial backing for XFI, Warren still had a soft spot for the agency. In fact, he'd been itching to get back into it, but he knew that he had to do it carefully. It actually did sound like Quire was doing a great job, but there was no way Warren would say that. That would be too easy. This was way more fun.
"Being a boss, obviously." He set down the file folder and moved his neck, cracking it a little. How long had he been looking at documents? "You're overpaid for being an intern. We should discuss that."
"See, this is why you were ghastly at this job." Quentin telekinetically piled the papers Warren had been sifting through, and set his breakfast on his desk. "The evidence is literally right in front of your fat face and you can't see it. Get out."
"No. I get joy at seeing you irate." Warren crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of the desk, being careful not to squish the bagel. That would be painful on so many levels. "Besides, I saw you grow up. I changed your metaphorical diapers. I can think of you as an intern forever if I want." He cleared his throat. "You do know that even though I've been gone, I've still been funneling money here right? You're still my employee. Isn't that adorable?"
The way Quentin bared his teeth at Warren would make any feral mutant proud. "Wrong again, fucko. I bought into XFI, so I'm co-owner. If anything, you're my partner here. And I can make you think whatever I want you to, so you'd better be careful about who you demean. Now." The incensed telepath sat down at his (emphasis on the possessive again) desk and called his coffee cup to his outstretched hand. "If you're looking for a job here again, send me your resume. I'll do you the favor or actually looking at it before I tell you to go fuck yourself."
"I only fuck myself with copious amounts of lube and privacy, neither of which you've offered me." He looked at Quentin, really looked at him. The cockiness was there, that would never go away but now he could see that there was confidence there too. "And okay. Co-owner. I can accept that. I think I'll have more fun working with you than I did Adrienne. You're good if I take over the admin and finances right? I want to see what our billable hours are, how much pro bono we're doing, and salaries as well as bonuses. I'm also assuming we've basically financed the Chinese restaurant by now -- have we explored buying shares?"
Warren walked to what looked like an empty desk. "I'll need a new chair...and really, how is this not a standing desk? You should care more about ergonomics."
Quentin glared at the older man while competing interests battled in his thoughts. "On the one hand," he pontificated, "There's the obvious revulsion of letting the walking embodiment of everything I detest infect a career that means everything to me. But on the other hand, you're a purebred businessman and are enthusiastic to take over the parts of this work I don't want to do. So I'm stuck in the classic battle between what the heart wants and what the brain wants. Fortunately for you, I'm a telepath, so the brain wins." Also, legally, there was nothing he could do to stop it, but he preferred to maintain the illusion of free will. "But you're getting your own fucking office. I'm not sharing space with you."
Warren frowned. "Is it the cologne? Illyana keeps saying she hates it but I haven't had a chance to get another one. Between going to LA and back every week this month, I haven't even had time to disappoint Bobbi. It's been a rough go for me."
"You only have one cologne?" Now that was a real shock. "Is this a straight guy thing?"
"Does no one do signature scents anymore? Why would I have multiple when I want to smell like me all the time. Me at work, me at home, me at the club. All me."
Quentin groaned. "You are exhausting."
Everything was coming up Quentin this morning. He had gotten to the commuter line just as the train arrived, there were no delays on the subway to District X, and his favorite breakfast stop served him a bagel right out of the oven with a freshly brewed cup of coffee.
But as he stepped into his office and saw who was puttering around, he had to wonder if he had pissed off Arthur or something in such a way that his great early morning was immediately turned on its head and he was now experiencing a waking nightmare.
"Worthington. The fuck are you doing here?"
Warren barely gave Quentin a glance as he flipped through some papers. Although he'd given up all façade of being anything but the financial backing for XFI, Warren still had a soft spot for the agency. In fact, he'd been itching to get back into it, but he knew that he had to do it carefully. It actually did sound like Quire was doing a great job, but there was no way Warren would say that. That would be too easy. This was way more fun.
"Being a boss, obviously." He set down the file folder and moved his neck, cracking it a little. How long had he been looking at documents? "You're overpaid for being an intern. We should discuss that."
"See, this is why you were ghastly at this job." Quentin telekinetically piled the papers Warren had been sifting through, and set his breakfast on his desk. "The evidence is literally right in front of your fat face and you can't see it. Get out."
"No. I get joy at seeing you irate." Warren crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of the desk, being careful not to squish the bagel. That would be painful on so many levels. "Besides, I saw you grow up. I changed your metaphorical diapers. I can think of you as an intern forever if I want." He cleared his throat. "You do know that even though I've been gone, I've still been funneling money here right? You're still my employee. Isn't that adorable?"
The way Quentin bared his teeth at Warren would make any feral mutant proud. "Wrong again, fucko. I bought into XFI, so I'm co-owner. If anything, you're my partner here. And I can make you think whatever I want you to, so you'd better be careful about who you demean. Now." The incensed telepath sat down at his (emphasis on the possessive again) desk and called his coffee cup to his outstretched hand. "If you're looking for a job here again, send me your resume. I'll do you the favor or actually looking at it before I tell you to go fuck yourself."
"I only fuck myself with copious amounts of lube and privacy, neither of which you've offered me." He looked at Quentin, really looked at him. The cockiness was there, that would never go away but now he could see that there was confidence there too. "And okay. Co-owner. I can accept that. I think I'll have more fun working with you than I did Adrienne. You're good if I take over the admin and finances right? I want to see what our billable hours are, how much pro bono we're doing, and salaries as well as bonuses. I'm also assuming we've basically financed the Chinese restaurant by now -- have we explored buying shares?"
Warren walked to what looked like an empty desk. "I'll need a new chair...and really, how is this not a standing desk? You should care more about ergonomics."
Quentin glared at the older man while competing interests battled in his thoughts. "On the one hand," he pontificated, "There's the obvious revulsion of letting the walking embodiment of everything I detest infect a career that means everything to me. But on the other hand, you're a purebred businessman and are enthusiastic to take over the parts of this work I don't want to do. So I'm stuck in the classic battle between what the heart wants and what the brain wants. Fortunately for you, I'm a telepath, so the brain wins." Also, legally, there was nothing he could do to stop it, but he preferred to maintain the illusion of free will. "But you're getting your own fucking office. I'm not sharing space with you."
Warren frowned. "Is it the cologne? Illyana keeps saying she hates it but I haven't had a chance to get another one. Between going to LA and back every week this month, I haven't even had time to disappoint Bobbi. It's been a rough go for me."
"You only have one cologne?" Now that was a real shock. "Is this a straight guy thing?"
"Does no one do signature scents anymore? Why would I have multiple when I want to smell like me all the time. Me at work, me at home, me at the club. All me."
Quentin groaned. "You are exhausting."
