Hope and Warren: Hope to the rescue!
May. 11th, 2024 02:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsWarren gets into a tiny spot of trouble. Hope to the rescue!
"Your driver called me after you called him." Hope explained when she saw Warren's confused face at her presence in his car. "And since I was close by, he picked me up so we can deal with anything that will need dealing with as soon as possible. Outside chasing off the paparazzi of course..."
Warren didn't answer. Instead, he threw himself down onto the seat, slammed the door and then hit the back of the driver's seat. He'd have words with Jerome later for bringing Hope into this, even if it was probably for the best.
How the night had gotten out of hand was beyond him. A celebration was needed after closing an incredibly lucrative deal. Bobbi had initially been out with him but she'd left a few hours (and bottles) earlier.
He'd even been behaving which made the rest of the night annoying. Apparently he hadn't properly recognized a debutante who screamed at him for taking her virginity on her 21st birthday and not even sending her jewelry after.
The correct answer to that was not "You weren't worth diamonds, you were worth a pair of Manolos".
And then the champagne bucket was tipped over his head, flashes were going off and he was regrettably sober. Glaring at Hope, he pulled out his thankfully dry vape and took a long pull before ignoring her for a further 10 minutes.
He hated how she could be silent for so long.
"I'm really tired of things being poured over me," he grumbled finally.
"I can imagine it must be very unpleasant." Hope replied dryly, one eyebrow raised. "However, at the moment I am more concerned with how you ended up in the situation of getting alcohol poured over you. In the full few of those vultures even. Want to explain?"
"My own fucking mother doesn't give a shit, why do you have to pretend you do?" He chucked dryly. "Oh right, I pay you. So fine, here's your answer: I. Don't. Know. I was having a good time, some stupid woman comes up to me and says stupid things, so I answer back and then there's all this and pictures and people asking for quotes so I did the SMART thing, and left. Except now I have to look at your face, so really, did I win here? I don't know. You tell me."
"My my, you are cranky. However, I do have to applaud you for indeed doing the smart thing: leaving." Hope was all business as she pulled a small notebook and tiny pencil from her purse. "Now, let us see if there is any further damage control I would have to do or if we can give the vultures their little victory. First, I need to know who the woman was and especially how the two of you are connected?"
Warren glared. "I barely know your name. You're asking me to remember a one-night stand from god knows who long ago, and how I met her? I don't fucking know. Google?"
He huffed and crossed his arms, full of nervous energy before suddenly sighing. "Shit, I think .... fuck. She's a debutante. Maybe ... last year at the Met Gala? Possibly? I don't know when I would have been in New York prior to coming back."
"There is quite a difference between last year and or previous years. But I will look into getting Met Gala guest lists from the last few years. I will also see if anyone at the club knows her name." After taking a few notes Hope looked up again, this time making sure to catch his gaze. "Now we have the paparazzi. You say they can only have some photos of you getting a drink dumped over you and then leaving the club?"
"I'm not stupid. If I'm going to do a line, I do it at home now. I'm not giving those morons anything they can sell, so YES, Ms. Abbott. Only the drink and leaving. I was a good little Warren and behaved."
"I will let Bobbi know then you were a good little Warren and I am sure she will reward you." Hope fired back almost absentmindedly, her thoughts firmly somewhere else. "I have to be honest though. If this is truly the full story, I think we should give the paparazzi their bit. I can suppress it if you want me to, but it might give us a little bit of a bank we can use in the future for worse case scenarios. Instead I will focus on tracking down your 'friend' and do some smoothing over if needed there."
Warren paused again, letting his breathing slow down a bit, while he took out his phone and started texting Bobbi. He knew she would probably be laughing hysterically by the time he got home. People throwing things on him always made her laugh. He closed his eyes again, and rubbed furiously at his face. "I'm trying, Hope. I don't shit where I eat, I barely do any drugs anymore so why is this still happening? I'm doing what you told me to do. All the time, I have a little voice telling me not to pay Hope more money."
Hope stifled a small sigh, putting her notebook to the side and meeting Warren's look. "You have been doing a good job, Warren. And if you were to look at some of the statistics I have, I can show you it is becoming less. But that does not mean that you do not have a past that will flare up sometimes, a crowd of vultures eagerly watching if you can stay on the straight and narrow or the fact that you have a flamboyant personality that draws some people like moths are drawn to a flame..."
He blinked slowly at her, trying to process what she was saying. "Hope. You have ...data? On me? And statistics?"
"Data and statistics on how and how often you have been appearing in the media, yes." Hope tilted her head a little. "I would be terrible at my job if I did not keep an eye on the impact of my work. I can show them to you later if you would like that."
"Only if the pie chart comes with actual pie," he grumbled. "Are we done now? Can I go to my room without supper and think about what I've done?"
Glancing over her notes, Hope nodded. "I think I have all that I need. So I take it you do not want me to let Bobbi know you were a good boy?" She added with a raised eyebrow.
"If Bobbi doesn't believe me without your input, then I have a whole other problem," Warren retorted. "So no. I will tell Bobbi, and you will deal with this like I pay you to, and we will move on from this. I don't need more shit from it, even though I guess I need to make some sort of statement if this gets out. Fuck." he ruffled his hair again. "You can write that too. I'm tired. I need bed and water."
"Please return me to the Storm penthouse." Hope addressed the driver as tucked away her notes before wrapping things up with Warren. " We will evaluate tomorrow if a statement will be needed. Oh yes, and I will have to add the emergency rate to this month's bill. Sue did not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night."
"Your driver called me after you called him." Hope explained when she saw Warren's confused face at her presence in his car. "And since I was close by, he picked me up so we can deal with anything that will need dealing with as soon as possible. Outside chasing off the paparazzi of course..."
Warren didn't answer. Instead, he threw himself down onto the seat, slammed the door and then hit the back of the driver's seat. He'd have words with Jerome later for bringing Hope into this, even if it was probably for the best.
How the night had gotten out of hand was beyond him. A celebration was needed after closing an incredibly lucrative deal. Bobbi had initially been out with him but she'd left a few hours (and bottles) earlier.
He'd even been behaving which made the rest of the night annoying. Apparently he hadn't properly recognized a debutante who screamed at him for taking her virginity on her 21st birthday and not even sending her jewelry after.
The correct answer to that was not "You weren't worth diamonds, you were worth a pair of Manolos".
And then the champagne bucket was tipped over his head, flashes were going off and he was regrettably sober. Glaring at Hope, he pulled out his thankfully dry vape and took a long pull before ignoring her for a further 10 minutes.
He hated how she could be silent for so long.
"I'm really tired of things being poured over me," he grumbled finally.
"I can imagine it must be very unpleasant." Hope replied dryly, one eyebrow raised. "However, at the moment I am more concerned with how you ended up in the situation of getting alcohol poured over you. In the full few of those vultures even. Want to explain?"
"My own fucking mother doesn't give a shit, why do you have to pretend you do?" He chucked dryly. "Oh right, I pay you. So fine, here's your answer: I. Don't. Know. I was having a good time, some stupid woman comes up to me and says stupid things, so I answer back and then there's all this and pictures and people asking for quotes so I did the SMART thing, and left. Except now I have to look at your face, so really, did I win here? I don't know. You tell me."
"My my, you are cranky. However, I do have to applaud you for indeed doing the smart thing: leaving." Hope was all business as she pulled a small notebook and tiny pencil from her purse. "Now, let us see if there is any further damage control I would have to do or if we can give the vultures their little victory. First, I need to know who the woman was and especially how the two of you are connected?"
Warren glared. "I barely know your name. You're asking me to remember a one-night stand from god knows who long ago, and how I met her? I don't fucking know. Google?"
He huffed and crossed his arms, full of nervous energy before suddenly sighing. "Shit, I think .... fuck. She's a debutante. Maybe ... last year at the Met Gala? Possibly? I don't know when I would have been in New York prior to coming back."
"There is quite a difference between last year and or previous years. But I will look into getting Met Gala guest lists from the last few years. I will also see if anyone at the club knows her name." After taking a few notes Hope looked up again, this time making sure to catch his gaze. "Now we have the paparazzi. You say they can only have some photos of you getting a drink dumped over you and then leaving the club?"
"I'm not stupid. If I'm going to do a line, I do it at home now. I'm not giving those morons anything they can sell, so YES, Ms. Abbott. Only the drink and leaving. I was a good little Warren and behaved."
"I will let Bobbi know then you were a good little Warren and I am sure she will reward you." Hope fired back almost absentmindedly, her thoughts firmly somewhere else. "I have to be honest though. If this is truly the full story, I think we should give the paparazzi their bit. I can suppress it if you want me to, but it might give us a little bit of a bank we can use in the future for worse case scenarios. Instead I will focus on tracking down your 'friend' and do some smoothing over if needed there."
Warren paused again, letting his breathing slow down a bit, while he took out his phone and started texting Bobbi. He knew she would probably be laughing hysterically by the time he got home. People throwing things on him always made her laugh. He closed his eyes again, and rubbed furiously at his face. "I'm trying, Hope. I don't shit where I eat, I barely do any drugs anymore so why is this still happening? I'm doing what you told me to do. All the time, I have a little voice telling me not to pay Hope more money."
Hope stifled a small sigh, putting her notebook to the side and meeting Warren's look. "You have been doing a good job, Warren. And if you were to look at some of the statistics I have, I can show you it is becoming less. But that does not mean that you do not have a past that will flare up sometimes, a crowd of vultures eagerly watching if you can stay on the straight and narrow or the fact that you have a flamboyant personality that draws some people like moths are drawn to a flame..."
He blinked slowly at her, trying to process what she was saying. "Hope. You have ...data? On me? And statistics?"
"Data and statistics on how and how often you have been appearing in the media, yes." Hope tilted her head a little. "I would be terrible at my job if I did not keep an eye on the impact of my work. I can show them to you later if you would like that."
"Only if the pie chart comes with actual pie," he grumbled. "Are we done now? Can I go to my room without supper and think about what I've done?"
Glancing over her notes, Hope nodded. "I think I have all that I need. So I take it you do not want me to let Bobbi know you were a good boy?" She added with a raised eyebrow.
"If Bobbi doesn't believe me without your input, then I have a whole other problem," Warren retorted. "So no. I will tell Bobbi, and you will deal with this like I pay you to, and we will move on from this. I don't need more shit from it, even though I guess I need to make some sort of statement if this gets out. Fuck." he ruffled his hair again. "You can write that too. I'm tired. I need bed and water."
"Please return me to the Storm penthouse." Hope addressed the driver as tucked away her notes before wrapping things up with Warren. " We will evaluate tomorrow if a statement will be needed. Oh yes, and I will have to add the emergency rate to this month's bill. Sue did not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night."
