2013.07.27 - In The VIP

Saturday night and Warren has chosen to go out, yet again. It doesn't take too long for an entourage to form...a couple of calls here, a couple of calls there, and a couple of cute girls in skimpy outfits pulled from waiting in line to get into the clubs and he has his posse. Tonight, they're hitting up a club famous for, among many things, its large menus of martinis. It's quite possible that Warren has already had a few by the time they get settled into one of the more private areas of the club; it's not roped off, per se, but it has a little bit of seclusion in the way that the area has been set up. There aren't any particular bodyguards or bouncers blocking entrance but they are certainly within earshot. The area has its own little dance floor which is rather helpful seeing as the main floor is almost always crushed with people.
While Warren hasn't been known as much of a dancer before, maybe the booze or the company have loosened him up because he's certainly up there shaking some feathers with a couple of those young women picked from the queue.
It's been at least an hour that another little posse has been at the club already. Jerry, waiter and sommelier extraordinaire at Anita Bella, has landed a job in a very nearly Broadway show, and grabbed up some friends to celebrate. One of those friends, of course, happens to be none other than his co-worker, Fern. While she's not one for the more 'trendy' clubs, it's Jerry's treat tonight, so she goes where he takes her, and he is a trendy kinda guy. Fern is a little bit of the 'odd man out' with the group, although they do all have an affinity for men in common, but it's a great way to blow off some steam without worrying about tipsy fumblings in the back of some taxi. 
 
She's been blessed with five dance partners out on the main floor, and Fern does seem to believe in that old adage 'dance as if no one is watching'. She's not a bad dancer, having had lessons, and there are a couple sets of eyes on her, but her companions keep her well insulated. Until she pulls Jerry close, explains that she has to hit the ladies, and makes her way off the dance floor. Her hair has been straightened, and there must be some sort of industrial hairspray holding it back from it's natural wave. It falls loose to bare shoulders, and her makeup is just a hint more dramatic than she would typically wear, with her eyes especially lined to stand out. 
 
As she leaves the floor to head to the restroom, she straightens her dress, a strapless, plain black short dress, with lace accents at the bustline, waist, and hem just above her knees. Black stockings are a dramatic contrast to her naturally fair skin, and she's got fairly sensible black heels on. Fern winds her way around a crowd stacked up at the bar, finally getting free and looking around as she walks. Her steps falter as she spies an unmistakable pair of wings on the VIP dance floor, and she stops, watching for a moment. 
Warren hasn't had dance training, but he doesn't move terribly awkwardly. He's not an inspired dancer, but he can keep the rhythm and look at least slightly graceful while doing it. He's at least very aware of his wings and he does tend to dance quite close to his partner...or partners. The entourage is at the edge, chatting, fetching drinks, fending off anyone else who might try and take over their space.
Fresh drinks are brought and the group moves off of the floor to enjoy the booze and the company. Moving over with his martini glass, Warren then pauses as he catches sight of a familiar redhead. Sometimes it just sucks having eyesight so keen. One of the bouncers is gestured over and Warren speaks with him before nodding towards Fern. He then moves to take a seat, his wings spread out, almost regally, behind him.
The bouncer, in the meantime, makes his way through the crowd and approaches Fern, "Excuse me, miss, but you've been invited up to the VIP area." Because that is such an honor, of course.
As Warren and his companions turn to leave the dance floor, Fern turns to continue her way to the facilities. She's frowning lightly, not paying attention as Warren snags a bouncer and sends him to fetch the little redhead back to his presence, and she's surprised by the approach and at being addressed. Her eyes slip back to where Warren is now seated, then return to the burly messenger. A warm, natural smile curves her lips. "I was just heading to the ladies. I'm sure he'll understand." She turns to continue on her way, not saying if she will accept the invitation after her original target is achieved or not. 
 
While her thoughts chase around trying to actually decide if she should venture to Warren's 'court' she checks her make up in the mirror, dabs at her face with a paper towel, and does a quick check to make sure that everything is in it's proper place before she emerges after a few minutes. 
The bouncer actually waits outside the ladies' room for her decision. Sort of like a page might wait for an answer to a member of the royal court. That pretty much seems to be what Warren is doing; holding Court. "Sorry, miss, but you can't go up without an escort..." is offered apologetically as an explanation as to why he's still there.
Warren, in the meantime, seems happy to be receiving attention where he is, nursing the martini. Some food is brought up as well...fancy versions of bar-food, like fried calamari and mozzarella sticks, but it's all done up in a very 'gourmet' way as befits the atmosphere.
The man does take his job seriously, at any rate, and Fern shakes her head, volleying back, "No, I'm sorry to have made you wait." She looks back over to the VIP area, then nods. "Alright, lead on then, please." There's some curiosity as to why Warren would have even bothered to send for her, since he looks pretty well occupied by the company he already has. Fern follows the bouncer, being 'delivered' to Warren's table without further delay. "Hello, Warren," she offers out, without her usual cheerful bounce to it. 
"Fern!" Warren lifts his glass as she arrives before he hands it off to someone, "This one's empty." It's taken and new ones are ordered...for the group, of course. All on his tab. He stands and seems to be mostly steady on his feet, but his wings do spread a little to compensate for any current balance issues. "Have you met...' he looks at two of the girls closest to him, "Uh. Buffy and Faith?" He obviously has no idea of their names.
There's a chuckle as he just amused himself, "Are you following me? I thought you made it perfectly clear that you despised me?" He turns to 'Buffy'...or is it 'Faith'? "This was the one I was telling you about..." even though he said nothing at all of Fern to anyone this evening. Yet. He might not be drunk enough. There's a snap given, "Get a martini for Fern too!"
There's a smile for the two women, who are thankfully sitting so that Fern doesn't have to risk getting a kink in her neck looking up at them. "Pleasure," she says evenly. Her brows lift in surprise as Warren goes on. He's clearly a bit in his cups already, and Fern isn't sure which part to address first, if at all. She decides on, "I'm here with friends, and I never said that I despise you." Although she's beginning to think about going and arguing with the wall to see if it's any more willing to listen to her. "I don't need a..." but the waitress is already off to see to the order. 
"Friends?" Warren asks, blue eyes looking about as if he could see them. "Are they pretty? Bring them up here! Martinis for all!" Oh, yes, he's definitely a bit sloshed already even if he's not quite stumbling about. Maybe it's why he has the entourage there? "I didn't think you liked clubs like this. Too many rich people around for you..." he just seems to be getting them in there...it must be the alcohol that is loosening his tongue.
"I don't think they're your type," Fern says mildly, in reference to her own group of friends. She looks around at the people who seem to be with Warren, in the sense that they're all hanging around and letting him pay for drinks. But they don't seem to be very concerned about Warren's copious consumption of alcohol. Some of them aren't even paying attention to Warren at all, and 'Buffy and Faith' seem to just be waiting to latch on to him again once he settles. Fern leans forward, bracing one hand on the low table, seeking to catch Warren's eyes. "Do you think you've maybe had enough?" she suggests softly. 
Angel takes a seat and leans back...as much as he can with the wings, his arms going around the back of the sofa there, "Enough?" He looks up at Fern, his own eyes looking at her, but he's not entirely in complete control of his faculties, "Not at all. I'll probably still remember tonight in the morning. I plan on drinking enough so that I don't remember." He turns and calls out, "Where are those martinis!" Looking back at Fern, he gives a little smirk, "Why do you care anyhow?"
'Buffy and Faith' seem to take Warren sitting back with his arms out as their invitation to return to seeing who can sit closer to the young millionaire without being technically in his lap. Fern can't help the way her nose wrinkles as they begin cooing at him to try and get his attention away from her and back onto them, where they clearly feel it would be better spent. "Because I do care," she says simply. "Look, why don't we go for a walk around the block? Get some fresh air, stretch our legs." Even thought she's not exactly got the shoes on for such a venture, at least they aren't heels of the streetwalker magnitude favored by the other girls. 
Warren does glance at Buffy and Faith even as he considers Fern's invitation. "You're not going to mug me, are you?" he teasingly quips before untwining himself from the two younger women. "I'll be back...don't worry...there are more martinis to try!" But he seems to accept the invitation as he gestures for Fern to lead the two of them out. "All right, Miss Fiddlehead. I'll walk around the block with you. Then you have to come back and have a drink with us."
"Fair enough," Fern agrees, figuring he'll forget about the drink part before they're halfway around the block. She reaches back, ignoring the protests of the displaced duo, but they die out quickly enough when more alcohol provided by Warren arrives on the scene. Fern rolls her eyes, snagging Warren's hand to lead through the crowded club toward the outside doors. She scans the crowd as they go, not trying to talk to Warren above the beat of the music as they make their way along side the main dance floor. Spying Jerry, she points to Angel, then makes a drinking motion with her hand. Jerry gets it at once, nodding, mouthing "Need help?" across the distance. Fern just shakes her head, sidestepping a very enthusiastic young man who almost dances off the floor into her. 
Angel wasn't really expecting to be dragged off so quickly! He starts to grin as his hand is taken, "Is that how this is..." he starts, but then Fern is pulling him through the crowd. "Hey! Whoa! Slow down there! Sorry...sorry..." darting so quickly through a crowded dance floor with large wings doesn't necessarily mean that he can control those wings. A few do get accidentally smacked by them, especially as they move alongside the crowded dance floor. "Sorry..sorry...ow...ow..." he doesn't catch Fern mouthing to her friend as he's just trying to keep his feet and his wings from being torn off.
Fern probably wouldn't seem to be moving so fast if someone wasn't already wobbly on his pins, and she slows even further to accommodate when she sees he's having a few issues with personal space. "Just keep everything tucked," she practically yells back to him to be heard over the pounding music that has everyone on the dance floor jumping enthusiastically. She'll be happy to get some air, herself, not being that huge of a party person. Finally they gain the door, and the doorman just nods to Warren, ignoring Fern and probably not even expecting the millionaire to return with her after he's done whatever they're going to do. He does glance around, wondering who might give him a quick fifty if he tips them off that playboy Worthington is going off with some little redhead. Surely a photo would be worth at least that, if not twice. 
 
It's actually cooler outside, the evening air pleasant compared to the heat wave they've just suffered. Fern lets go of Warren's hand almost at once, falling into step with him and not speaking just yet. 
"I'm as tucked as I get!" is called back and he straightens once they get outside. When Fern lets go of his hand, he uses them to fix his hair, his wings giving a little shudder to get them set back to how they should be. He'll have to groom them later, but this should do for now. Warren nods back to the bouncer and then moves to start walking...around the block, as she mentioned. After a good space of silence he finally asks, "Well?" He's able to walk steadily...his mental faculties are just a bit blurry.
Fern steps a little more quickly to pace Warren's longer stride, keeping aside him until he finally speaks. She doesn't stop walking but looks sideways to him, not turning her head. "Well what?" If he has an answer ready for that rejoinder, she doesn't wait for it, instead going on to ask her own question. "Why are you so bound and determined to believe that I don't care about you?" 
"You're the one who wanted to take the walk outside," Warren points out. He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks about a moment before glancing quickly at Fern, "What is to make me believe that you do? You dumped me, remember? And it was three months before I ran into you purely by chance. Am I supposed to come crawling to you, begging you to take me back and then you'd show me that you cared for me all along or something? Because I don't remember that being in any rulebook I've heard of."
Fern does turn her head now, regarding Warren openly, "You've seen a rulebook? I'd appreciate if you could share that with me, because I'd sure like some guidelines instead of just flying by the seat of my pants." The sarcasm in her tone is unmistakable, but there's still a gentleness about it that just comes naturally to Fern. "I never expected you to come begging. And it doesn't look like you're at any loss for company." It's hard to tell if she's a little steamed because he's hanging out with such vacuous wastes of silicone, or because they're clearly taking advantage of someone that she does care about, no matter what he believes. "Where'd you pick up those sycophants, anyway?" 
"I'm sure there are rulebooks, but I'm not going to go crawling back to someone who didn't want me," Warren turns to look at her at that. He's still sloshed, but not so sloshed that he can't hold a conversation still. "The girls? They were waiting in the line to get in when we got here. They're attractive." There's a pause before he adds, "They like me in there. And I'd rather be around people who like me instead of people who don't."
Fern stops, exasperated, actually stomping her foot on the sidewalk. "Doggone it, Warren, will you stop that already? I do like you. I like you enough to not care if you buy me drinks and spend all kinds of money on me. I like you, not what you can buy." Her frown only deepens as she goes on, "What about the others? From school? Surely they'd be better to hang around with than a couple bimbos who just want to wring every penny they can out of you." 
"You have a funny way of showing it then, Fern. Dumping me...ok, fine, but then not speaking to me for months? Were you waiting for me to chase you down? Seriously, how was I supposed to think you still cared at all by you just walking out of my life?" Warren points out. When she stomps her foot at him, he looks down at her feet, "Those are some very sensible shoes you have on." He then looks back at her, "I never talked about friends from school with you." He knows better than to mention that he went to school with mutants. "If you mean friends from Boarding School...they weren't really friends. Most don't want to be seen with me. So screw 'em."
"Of course I wasn't," Fern tosses back, "but I didn't think you'd want to talk to me. So, if I was wrong about that then I'm sorry. It's not like I never thought about calling you." She looks down at her shoes as well. "Well, I'm not out trying to snag some millionaire to pay for a boob job for me, so yes, they are sensible." Turning, Fern starts walking again, slowly, to see if he'll keep up. "You know that I know people. Jubilee." Ok, so that's a student and probably doesn't count. "Bobby Drake. Kurt." She's never pried about what sort of school, but she's aware it's a school where there's some commonality in the abilities of some of the students and staff. 
Angel snorts, "I don't buy boob jobs." When she starts walking, he keeps pace, "Well, I can't read minds. I figured that since you never bothered to try and talk to me again, you didn't want to." He shakes his head as Jubilee is mentioned...he doesn't know her except by name. "I didn't go to school with Kurt and he's not speaking to me either,. Bobby...claims he is, but I almost never hear from him. They're all busy doing their own there so I'm doing my own thing too."
"As far as you know." Fern can't imagine those girls aren't above taking whatever cash they can get out of Warren, or at least saving their own because he's willing to foot the bill. Her frown returns, although it hadn't really gone far, it was just taking a break, at news of Kurt and he not speaking. "Did you two have a falling out?" she asks, consternation in her voice. "And what is your own thing? Letting people take advantage of your generous nature?" 
"Please...give me some credit. I probably won't see those girls after tonight anyhow." When Kurt is brought up, Warren actually does frown, "He decided I wasn't worth his friendship anymore," is the explanation. It's his side, at least...even if it may not be the whole story. Now it's his turn to pause, his arms and wings spread wide, "I'm the heir to billions, Fern. It's expected of me to be doing this! I tried being responsible. I tried being socially active. You know what it got me? Nothing! All my friends...gone! So now, at least if I'm acting like a fool and drinking, I have friends...even if it's for a night. And I'm getting attention!"
Fern looks pained at Warren's simple explanation of his and Kurt's friendship; she's not heard from the blue elf in as many months as she hadn't talked to Warren, her own friendship left to fall by the wayside as well. But she wasn't surprised, he's much more important a person than she herself is, so she can't blame Herr Wagner for finding other things more interesting than the friendship of a simple waitress. But they weren't as close as she had assumed he and Warren were. It's all she can do not to attempt giving Warren a hug as his arms and wings go out, but she doesn't feel that it would be at all well received by the heir to billions. Instead she stands her ground, looking up at Warren with a pained expression. "They aren't your friends. And I'm sorry that I haven't been a better one. I wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive me." 
Angel's arms lower back to his sides and his wings also fold back. "They're the closest things I have right now, Fern. I know full well that they're only there because of my money and they get a few minutes of fame. I'm not stupid. But I'm damned sick and tired of sitting at home. If I'm going to drink, I might as well do it, being seen, and getting attention for it than drinking by myself at home." His hands go into his pockets again and he scowls, not necessarily at Fern, "They make me feel important, even if it's just for a few hours."
Fern's eyes lower from Warren's and she looks at the cracks in the pavement below their feet. Well, sort of, since there are shadows and the darkness of the evening that obscure many of the cracks, blending them into pools of black. She waits a second, then turns to walk again. This time she attempts to link her arm with Warren's. "You are important, and not just to a bunch of people who wouldn't bring you water if you were dying of thirst." She pauses, then amends, "Well, they might if they thought you'd buy them something for it." 
Looking at the arm that links into his, Warren will continue the walk, not responding to her statement immediately. When he finally does speak, he asks, "Don't lead me on, ok? Because I'd rather deal with the people inside there than someone leading me on." Maybe he wouldn't have said that if he didn't already have so much booze in him. "I'm not important, Fern. I only have my job because my father owns the company and he browbeat them in to letting me back. Anywhere else...I'm not important. Not anymore."
Those words are enough to have Fern slipping her arm away from his, looking at him, frustrated. "When I try to be your friend, you push me away. When I stay away, you're upset that I have. What can I do to win with you, Warren?" It's a soft, plaintive question, with just the backdrop of traffic on the cross street to accompany them, not the jarring techno beat that you have to shout just to be heard above. "I think you're important. I think you have so much more to give than just money. You've saved lives, Warren. That's more important than anything I'll ever be." 
"Because I don't know how to read you, Fern. I don't know if you being nice to me is just...that you're a nice person or you feel sorry for me or...you're going to go back home to your boyfriend and laugh about it." After all, Warren's social interactions are fairly limited in terms of people just being 'normal'. It was either seeing how people behaved in high society or the drama of the school. "What are you trying to win, Fern? I don't really know what you want from me." He shrugs when she mentions people that he's saved, "Maybe I did before. I don't now. Now...I do this."
"I don't feel sorry for you, Warren," Fern says honestly. "You kinda piss me off sometimes, but I don't feel sorry for you. And I'm hurt that you think I would laugh at you." She walks a few steps in silence, brooding over the way this evening is going. "I want you to be my friend," she says honestly. "Doing this is your choice. Just like you've chosen in the past to do more than just get drunk with people who don't give a shit about you." She must be at least a bit upset, to lapse into swearing as she is. 
Angel also walks in silence for a few steps. "I'm not entirely sure how to be your friend, Fern. You really hurt me." He'll admit that much, thanks to the booze. He can't help a snort though, which could be some sort of snicker, "Please. Do you think I bring these girls home with me? I'm not that desperate and I'm not that stupid. I might not remember what happened the night before, but I'd know if I did that."
"Then what do you want from me, Warren?" Fern asks softly, confused. "I know I hurt you, it's why I gave you space. But it seems that wasn't right either, because you think I don't care about you at all." She frowns down at her feet, watching them as they walk together, turning a second corner, putting them around the block in back of the club they'd been at. "If you simply want me to go away because I hurt you, then I will. If you want to believe I don't care, then there's no amount of breath that'll convince you otherwise. But if you want to try and learn to be friends, then that's what we should do." 
"I don't know," Warren admits. And he's not drunk enough to forget this conversation yet. That's a little disappointing. "I've never done this before. I mean, you were the first person I ever went out on more than one date with...there wasn't anyone when I was at school and then after, well...I didn't want to give away the fact that I had these wings. So I don't know what's usually done or how to do it."
Fern lets silence fall for a few steps again. Relatively speaking, anyway, because there's still noise of traffic and horns blaring and a bang that could just be a backfire or it could be something far more sinister. It's a pretty good bet either way. "We just.... do stuff together," she finally says. "Hang out. Talk about our problems. I'll always listen to you when you need someone to. And I know that I'm a touchy person, so if that's an issue, we can set boundaries." 
"I don't know. Seems like it could get awkward. I don't know that I'd want to hear about your 'guy' troubles." At least, not right now. "But I do miss spending time with you. I miss..." he starts but actually manages to edit some of that. Maybe the walk and the fresh(ish) air is helping. "I'm not averse to touching, you know."
"Well, I'm offering you my friendship, and a promise that I'll try to be a better friend to you," Fern says gently. "If it's too awkward, I'll go away. And I wouldn't talk to you about guy troubles, even if I had any. I'm not totally insensitive." Despite his words, she keeps her hands to herself, not reaching to link arms with him again, but clasping her hands together behind her back instead. 
The walk considers a few more steps in silence before Warren asks, "Are you going to not let me party anymore? I mean...I know you don't like them, but I know I'm spending money. I'm not buying them clothes or cars or diamonds...I'm buying drinks and food. I'm not letting them take too much advantage of me and I can't go on midnight shopping sprees. All the stores are closed."
Fern shakes her head, "I'm not going to stop you from doing whatever you want to do, that's not my place. But I'll be there when you want a friend you don't have to buy." The third corner is turned, putting them back on the short side of the block, with the entrance to the club looming just around the next turn. "It doesn't matter if I like them or not, I'm not the one hanging around with them. And I won't. I don't like how they use you, and I don't want to watch it happen." 
"I know you don't like clubbing, which was kind of why I was surprised to see you here." Warren then leans in and gives a chuckle, "You know what? I don't either. They're so loud and crowded!" He straights back up and looks towards the club, "But the martinis are good here. Maybe I'll take a break tomorrow night. Give my liver a chance to rest." Glancing back at Fern, he offers a simple, "Thanks. You don't have to come back and have a drink with us then if you don't want."
"I'm here because Jerry got a job," Fern says simply. He's right, she's not a club girl, but even she goes out every now and then. Maybe just to remind her how much it's not her scene. "I like to go places with friends where we can have actual conversations without yelling at each other." There's a chiding in her tone, but it's gentle. Again, her head shakes, "I'd really rather not. But if you want to go out somewhere quiet this week and have a drink, that would be acceptable. Just no Bambie and Thumper," she says, blatantly getting their names wrong, if those are even their names. 
Angel laughs at that, "Bambi and Thumper! I like that! Oh, I'm going to call them that now...better than Buffy and Faith, for sure!" He looks towards the club as they near it, "All right. Later this week, some place quieter...I can do that. No entourage and no Bambi and Thumper. Just the two of us. As friends." Warren steps up to the bouncer, offers a nod, and then gestures for Fern to enter before him. "Tell Jerry I said 'Congratulations'. I'll send them a round."
Fern steps in first, turning to look over her shoulder at Warren, then stopping and turning to face him before they part ways. "I'll tell him, and I know they'll be grateful for your thoughtfulness." She glances around, looking for Jerry or one of his crowd, then looks back to Warren. "Call me. My number is the same." There's a hesitation, as if she's trying to decide whether to offer a hug or not. The decision seems to be 'not' as she backs away a step, offering a smile. "I'll talk to you soon." Disappearing back into the crowd, she finds Jerry and his friends, relaying the message from Warren a few minutes before a round of drinks arrive. They all raise their glasses and look over to the VIP area, toasting their benefactor and calling over thanks, which may well be more than he ever gets from the group of people Angel's been spending his time and money with. Fern stays long enough to finish her drink, then leaves, calling a cab with some money borrowed from Jerry, only looking over at Warren and his "friends" twice before slipping out into the cool July night. 
Angel returns to his 'friends' and immediately grabs another martini that was waiting for him. Bambi and Thumper certainly demand his attention, but he manages to catch the toast towards the area and he salutes them back with his glass. He and the others are still partying when Fern leaves, but it could very well be that Warren is nursing that same martini that he first got when they returned. He catches her attention before she slips out and offers a wave before she leaves.
Category:Log