2012-09-22 Coming Home

Shinobi Shaw hasn't been back to the estate since he left for college. Family visits weren't really a Shaw /thing/, and even for things like Christmas, it was usually meeting up somewhere else, like Switzerland. Still, even from the back of his cab, Shinobi can tell the place hasn't changed much. He pays the driver and climbs out at the front gate, hauling out his luggage, and waits for them to drive off before he turns to approach the intercom. T-shirt, jeans, leather shoes... but entirely recognizable as himself.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Shinobi asks into the intercom, his tone light. "May I come in?"

The gate opens dutifully, but much to-- well, everyone's surprise, but probably especially Shinobi's, the strict-but-kind housekeeper isn't the one at the mansion's door when he gets there. Instead, The Old Man himself opens the door for his returning offspring. "So," he rumbles, stepping back to make room. "Successful graduation, I presume."

Shinobi can't keep the surprise off of his face. He does, however, subtly straighten his posture. It's his father. It's necessary. "With honors," he confirms, inclining his head in silent thanks for the room. He brings himself and his bags inside. No complaining about the commercial flight, or the lack of a limo, or any of it.

Sebastian gives the younger man a long, searching look, as if hunting for such complaints, and then just nods once, as if the outcome was never really in doubt. "Good," he decides, and heads for the study with the sort of demeanor that suggests Shinobi should perhaps leave his bags for later. "Mrs. Hudson is enjoying some time off. She should be back after the weekend. I assured her we are grown men capable of surviving a few days without a keeper," he muses.

Shinobi's had a lifetime to learn what the old man's silent cues are. His bags are left near the door, out of the walkway, and he falls into step just behind and to his father's right. "I'm sure she deserves the time off. She's always worked very hard around here," he notes approvingly, tucking his hands into his pockets. "We'll simply have to make sure we clean up all the wreckage before she gets back."

"Droll," Sebastian notes in a neutral tone. "But not entirely inaccurate." And it is always possible that like the flight and taxi, this is another minor test, seeing how many inconveniences Shinobi can take stacked up before he slips and complains. Just another round of cut and thrust in the house of Shaw. He settles into his desk, and rummages through some papers. "You'll no doubt be pleased to know that stocks have continued a healthy rise and your shares aren't worthless."

"Was there any doubt? People always need power," Shinobi says with a smile, stopping in front of his father's desk. He does not sit, or touch the desk's surface; he just stands, patient and attentive.

After a moment, though, Shinobi does glance off to the side. "I'm not taking the estate for granted," he notes carefully. "I can look for a place of my own once I've gotten a bit of sleep, if you would prefer."

It seems the offer made is good enough for the elder man. "Not necessary, though I won't tell you not to if you want some space. It is, after all, somewhat a larger house than one person can comfortably occupy." Even if that one person is Sebastian. Probably about as close to actually saying he'd like Shinobi there as he's ever likely to get. Small victories.

Shinobi will savor it privately, later on. Though the corner of his mouth /does/ tick upwards into a small, genuine smile. "I'll stick around here, then. Saves me the trouble of hiring new staff," he muses lightly. "Thank you."

Sebastian does enjoy their ongoing jousting match, so when Shinobi lets a little bit of a smile slip, Sebastian develops a lightly pleased/amused expression that aimed at anyone else might be fairly insulting. He inclines his head to acknowledge the gratitude, and then nods. "What are your plans next?" he asks. He just assumes Shinobi has some.

"Putting my degree to good use. I've a resume ready for your HR department," Shinobi notes, thumbing back towards the door. Yes, it's already printed, ready and waiting, out in his luggage. "If all else fails, Stark is usually hiring, isn't he?"

After a moment's thought, he adds, "And I would like to go to Gotham tomorrow. Senator Castroneves may be putting in an appearance, and I've been a supporter of his campaign out in California. If he does show up, I'd like to say hello."

Sebastian arches an eyebrow, then gestures with a hand in a have-it-you-way manner. "You're an adult," he notes. "And you know what I think of involvement in politics." Which is YES. "The cars are in the garage. As to the rest, I'm sure you know where the resume goes. Stark's always hiring-- I daresay it would be an opportunity if you feel inclined."

"As good an opportunity as it would be, there's something very satisfying about having your own name on your business cards /twice/," Shinobi notes, thoughtfully running a hand back over his hair. "But I will think about it."

Sebastian smirks, then chuckles. "As you like it." He's not going to insist Shinobi go bury himself in Stark Industries and look for useful things to inform on. That would be crass and also hireling work.

"I should probably move my things back upstairs," Shinobi murmurs thoughtfully, though he doesn't move to leave yet. He hasn't been dismissed. Besides, Sebastian's made an overture... so now, it's his turn. "Perhaps we can find something vaguely resembling dinner once I've unpacked. New York does still have decent food in it somewhere, I hope."

Sebastian pauses to consider this. "There are some pleasant restaurants. And even some pleasant company here or there to visit them with on occassion." He waves a hand. "Go get your things dealt with. I suppose the occassion demands a certain level of enjoyment to be had." He can, on occassion, almost be something like a decent father in the classic tradition of such.

"I'll get myself cleaned up, while I'm at it." Shinobi doesn't say it, but... thanks to that flight, he's pretty sure he has /commoner/ on him. Ick. Hot, hot shower, very necessary. With a smile, he turns to go and pick up his things. His parting promise that "I won't take long," is almost, /almost/, a thank you.