Covenant
Cutscene: Covenant
Author
IC Details
Synopsis:

Warren Worthington receives some advice from one of his oldest friends: Cameron Hodge.

IC Date: February 01, 2019
IC Location: Worthington Tower, New York
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 02 Feb 2019 00:31
Rating & Warnings:
Associated Plots

"You know, the rest of the board is starting to ask some questions."

Warren doesn't say anything back, not right away. He occupies himself with looking out the wide windows of his office, through the spires of other buildings and out to the quiet water of the bay. At night it is a sheet of black, scattered with the eternal lights shining from lower Manhattan. The urge takes him to open the window and fly out over it, low over the water, and away.

"About what?" he finally says, instead.

His companion leans back in his chair, as if ruminating where to start. Of an age with Warren Worthington, though with soft brown hair and brown eyes and an overall gentle demeanor that contrasts his friend's sharp, inaccessible beauty, Cameron Hodge looks, above all, steady. Down to earth. The kind of person you would want behind you… and he has been behind Warren ever since they were young, two good friends in a perfect understanding and accord.

"What else do they ever want to know?" Cameron decides to begin eventually, his voice wry, adjusting his glasses as he speaks. "They want to know where the money's going, and where the company's heading in the public eye. They want to know how tangled up they're going to be with this Aegis Foundation — which, anyone with two eyes can see what you and… and Miss Blaire are doing, there."

Cameron looks into his half-finished glass of scotch, swirling the liquid aimlessly. "They want to know exactly how politicized Worthington Industries is going to get in the lead-up to March. They're concerned about blow-back if the company comes down too strongly on a position — "

"…and I think you can handle that," Warren says, with simple confidence. His wings bridle at his back, the feathers lifting; the motion draws Cameron's gaze. Expressionless brown eyes trace down the long white primaries as they fan out. Cameron stares a moment too long, then aims his gaze away. "You're a PR man," Warren continues. "Now you're the CEO. You can spin it, and you can make people listen. The Foundation, as it's set up, should make that easy. All charitable causes, all above-board, and all my personal undertaking. That's all anyone needs to concern themselves about. One of the things we're going to put in for is a Hell's Kitchen restoration fund, for God's sake. Is that not diversified enough?"

"Throwing in behind a legal defense fund to oppose registration tends to cancel out all the rest," Cameron points out quietly.

Warren drains his own glass, impatient. "It's going to be funded primarily out of my own pocket, anyway. There's no cause for the board to be prying into it."

Cameron's eyes keep tracking back to those wings. "I'll keep an eye on them," is all he says. He considers a moment, then broaches: "Maybe more concerning to you: some of our known subsidiaries are already being picketed on the regular." A delicate pause. "Especially ever since the incident in front of the Guardian."

Warren's wings tighten. "Couldn't be helped," he says, though the defensiveness has no teeth, and his head bows a little. He knows what he did. "Is anyone being hurt? Are they afraid?"

"Of course," Cameron says. His head tilts to watch the reaction that crosses his friend's face. "They get accosted entering and leaving. Some of them get followed home." Cameron shrugs. "Mostly people of the same religious zealot breed that confronted you, I think… what with all the shouting about slaving in sin at the service of a Devil. It's terribly fourteenth century. But it scares people."

Warren's head lifts, his hand tightening on his glass. The look on his face — protective, angry, and above all brash — is as familiar to Cameron as his own expressions.

Cameron's brown eyes are contemplative. "You want my advice, you should go out there and talk to them. Tell them how you're going to make sure they're safe, and show them they're not working for some remote asshole who doesn't give a shit what crap flows downhill onto them because of him." His eyes slant towards Warren. "Alternative Air Labs has been getting it especially hard, since they're upstate. A little more off the beaten path. It's a little startup we just recently acquired, and they're balky. This isn't helping. They'd benefit from a visit."

Warren pushes away his empty glass, and nods once with a sigh. "You're right. No one ever really loves me showing up, but in so many instances absence can be even worse."

His eyes close briefly, before they reopen on Cameron: clear blue, apologetic, and appreciative. "I'll schedule something. I'm sorry for being short, Cam. You've always looked out for the best for me." He smiles, a practiced, thoughtless, and lovely expression he gives as automatically as breathing, before his eyes turn their gaze back out the window.

"Yes," says Cameron, his dark eyes briefly sad. Warren is not looking at him, and does not see it. "I always have."

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