2012-07-25 You Win Some...

Warren had been pacing outside of his father's office for about fifteen minutes. Each time he paused to knock on the door, he hesitated and went back to the pacing. Finally, Warren Jr. opened the door and gave his son a slightly bemused look before asking, "Are you going to come in or just wear down the floor. Your mother won't be happy if it's the latter."

With his cheeks flushing some, Warren III dutifully stepped into the home office. Unlike the offices at work, which were sleek, modern, and fairly minimalist, this office was warm and inviting. Warren would often play here when he was a child; the leather chairs and carved wood furniture made excellent terrain for his action figures. Now, though, there are no action figures, but even as he steps inside, his sharp eyes go to one of the side tables where a toy ATV took a chip out of the carved leg. The chip was still missing. Also, unlike the offices at work, Warren didn't need to hide his wings.

Worthington Jr. didn't return to the heavy chair behind his desk. Instead, he gestured to the leather sofas in front of the unlit fireplace. Before taking a seat he asks, "Want a drink?" Warren hesitated a moment before giving a nod, "Please." It might help with the discussion he wants to have. Worthington Jr. poured two tumblers of scotch, kept one and then handed one to his son before taking a seat. "What's eating you then? Unless you just wanted in here for a book?" His tone made it clear that it was a jest.

Warren remained standing, tumbler in hand and looking at the oriental carpet on the floor. He finally took a long swig before lifting his eyes to his father's, "Does our company officially support Human Rights?" That wasn't the question Worthington was expecting. He just blinked, his own tumbler paused half-way to his lips. "Of course we do. You know our policy on such things…it's a non-question, Warren. Why are you bringing this up?" He lowers the glass, his eyes widening, "Oh, god…you're not gay, are you?"

"No!" Warren answers quickly, his cheeks turning pink. "I'm not gay-" but he's then interrupted by a "Whew! For a moment there I was afraid of having to break that news to your mother. She still wants grandkids." Warren grimaces, "Dad...even if I -was-, there's still the possibility of grandkids...that isn't the point!" The tumbler of scotch is then drained before he sits on the opposite couch, his wings fanning out to the side. "What about Mutant Rights?"

Now Worthington looks at his tumbler, swishing the scotch around for a moment before he offers an answer, "You know that your mother and I personally support that." Warren keeps his eyes on his father, "That's not what I asked. I asked about the company. Would you ever hire someone who was a known mutant?" There is a brief pause, "Who wasn't related to you?"

There wasn't an immediate answer. Worthington continued to watch his scotch as if it might suddenly disappear before he could drink it before he finally lifted his own eyes to look at his son. "I don't know," was answered honestly. Suddenly finding momentum, he stands and goes to pour himself more into that glass, "It's a delicate balance, Warren. You know that. We've had this discussion before."

Warren watches his father, noting the body language, his eyes following his movements to get another drink. "Would you hire someone who was 'out'? Who wasn't Caucasian?" Worthington turned as if to answer, but Warren cut him off, "Of course you would. Why is this any different?" Worthington opened his mouth but again, Warren speaks, "It shouldn't be. Dad, if you're doing business with someone who says 'And don't bring that guy, he's queer' or 'Don't bring her…she's not White', you wouldn't tolerate that, right? Why is this different?" Again, Worthington fell silent so Warren continued. "I'm tired of hiding. It's uncomfortable, it's demeaning, it's...it's pretending like something is -wrong- with me." He looked at the empty glass in his hand beforesetting it down on the chipped table. "I'll resign if you think it best. I don't want to hurt the company and I don't want to hurt you and mom, but the way it is now,it's hurting -me-. This way, it becomes only personal and then you don't have to say anything about the company's official stance on Mutants."

Worthington just stood there while Warren said his piece. He then downed the second glass of scotch before offering, "Let me talk to the Board. You've raised…valid points." As he started to make his way back to his desk, Warren spoke again, "I'm calling a press conference in a week. I hope that Worthington Industries will be able to make a formal declaration at that point in time, but if I don't hear otherwise, I'll tender my resignation." With that, he walked back out of the office, leaving his father alone once more.

"Warren!" Worthington called after his son, but there was no response. He picked up his phone, dialed a number, "Bethany. I'm calling a Board Meeting on Friday. Make the arrangements." Once the call was finished he muttered, "I knew we spoiled that kid."