glacial_queen | Friday Morning, Room 218

Karla paced back and forth in her room, phone in hand. Graduation was just a day--Hell's fire just hours--away and she had a decision to make. Warren was graduating. That was one of those life-milestones that people looked back on all their life.

One of those milestones that was usually a celebrated by having a lot of friends and family around.

While Warren had plenty of friends who would be happy to watch him cross the stage and get his diploma, he'd severed the ties with his father in January, after the whole mutant cure debacle. And that was the crux of Karla's dilemma. Everything she knew about this world said that Warren, Jr. should be at graduation. But would inviting the father be seen as a betrayal by the son?

Karla didn't know. And wasn't entirely sure what she should do. Would Warren regret his father being present now? Or absent later? How would she feel if their positions were reversed? Okaaay, that wasn't the best example. She'd give anything to have her parents at her graduation. But if someone were to invite Hobart...on the other hand, no matter how mad Warren was at his father, she didn't think he felt the same utter loathing she did for Hobart. After all, in his own misguided way, Warren, Jr. had just been trying to help.

Would that be enough for Warren? Could it be? Should it be? Karla wasn't sure. But at a normal graduation, family would be there for him. And, well, Warren liked normal. More than that, he deserved to have as many people there cheering for him as possible.

Biting her lip, Karla pressed the button.

Worthington Labs	"Worthington Labs, how may I help you?" The receptionist was crisp and professional and had no idea that Karla was going to mess up her whole day.
Karla	Karla flinched a little. Somehow she'd expected to go right through to Warren's dad. Talking to this--this stranger almost had her hanging up. She'd planned to explain the situation to Warren, Jr and then hang up quickly, before she had a chance to have second--third, fourth?--thoughts. "I--I--I need to speak to Mr. Worthington, please. Right now."
None of this Nonsense, Please	The receptionist raised an eyebrow at that ‘now.’ "Mr. Worthington is a busy man," she replied with the kind of cool professional courtesy that meant could be translated as ‘I’m doing my job, so suck it.’ Sure, she was a little surprised that some teenager had the number to Mr. Worthington's private office, but after the month they’d had...well, she’d talked to weirder people. And not-people. "You may leave a message, of course, if you feel the matter is urgent."
Karla	Should she take this as a sign that she should just give up now? Dammit, Ms. Receptionist! You were not making this any easier! Karla swallowed heavily. "I don't want to leave a message. I want to talk to Mr. Worthington. My name is Karla." She wasn't sure if that would be enough to make Mr. Worthington answer the call. But she didn't want to bring up Warren's name until she had to. She wasn't going to be certain what she was going to say until the moment that she said it. "Believe me, he's going to want to talk to me."
You Have GOT To Be Kidding Me	That’s what they all said, kid. The receptionist pursed her lips. "Please hold," she said. A minute later, the phone in Mr. Worthington's office began to ring.
Warren Worthington, Jr.	Warren frowned a little as his phone started ringing. He'd been up to his ears in paperwork for the past couple of weeks now, since all hell had broken loose and Worthington Labs was left to clean up most of the mess. To make matters worse, the press hadn't left him alone since his son's little speech on national television, and there were the legal implications of what had happened on Alcatraz to deal with, too... He sounded fairly weary as he put his phone on speaker. "Yes?" His receptionist was probably getting used to him answering his phone like that.
Would A Little Courtesy Kill You?	"Sir..." His receptionist tried to mask her waspish tone. "Forgive me for bothering you, Mr. Worthington. There's a young lady on the line asking to speak to you. I tried to ask her to leave a message, but she insisted you would want to talk to her. But if you're busy, I can tell her you've left orders not to be disturbed."
Warren, Jr.	Warren himself took a moment of uncertain silence at that. A young lady? He didn't exactly know a wealth of those. But it could be anyone, really. He wasn't being hunted down by the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, but that didn't mean that he was completely in the clear, yet. "Did she give a name, at least?"
I Should Get A Raise	"First name, but no last," she said, voice going from peeved back to stern, also thinking of just who might want to talk to her boss. "Karla. I'm not sure how she got your private line, sir. Shall I take the message or simply disconnect?" Maybe have security try to trace the call...?
Oh, Lord	"Karla?" There was another not-quite-sure sort of waver in Warren's voice, there. And then, after a moment of thought, he couldn't help but find himself caught up in an instant of irrational panic. Why in the world would she be calling his private line? Had something happened to his son? "She's a friend of my son. Best put her through, this time." Yes, he sounded about as bewildered by that decision as you were, Ms. Receptionist.
Ms. Receptionist	Ms. Receptionist was, in fact, blinking at the phone in her hand in something akin to surprise. "Yes, Mr. Worthington. Right away, sir." She paused for a moment, putting on her professional face, and then clicked over. "Miss...err, Miss Karla? I'm connecting you to Mr. Worthington's direct line now." Ignoring the girl's muttered, "Finally," the receptionist connected the lines. "Mr. Worthington? Your call." And then had to fight against the urge to quietly keep listening.
#1 Boss	You fight that urge well enough, and there'll be a decent holiday bonus in it for you, too! Warren waited for a moment once the call had been patched through, once again gathering his wits. The girl that his son was so convinced he'd be spending the rest of his life with was a spitfire, and it would do him well to not assume that she was even calling on friendly terms. And that was why, when he finally spoke, it was with a carefully neutral, "Karla. To what do I owe the... pleasure... of this call?"
Bitch, Please	Oh, you damn well better believe she was getting a holiday bonus. With the things she'd had to put up with over the last month, you were lucky she wasn't charging you hazard pay to go along with her overtime. The receptionist hung up the line. But only because she was going to run down the hall, get a cup of coffee, and speculate like hell with some of the girls in the other offices.
Botched Her Diplomacy Roll	Karla was unaware of the internal battle being waged at the receptionist's desk, but she hesitated a moment longer before responding anyway. Hearing Warren's father's voice was bringing back all sorts of unpleasant associations for her and she was back to having, oh, tenth or eleventh thoughts about this plan again. "Mr. Worthington," she said, trying to sound calm and collected and mostly just sounding constipated. "I--Warren's all right." She’d just realized what might have been the first thing that had crossed his mind, hearing she was on the line. "Better than all right, actually. He's graduating." Way to just ease into that announcement, Karla.
Warren, Jr.	Yeah, that was broken about as gently as a sack of bricks to the head. "... Graduating?" Yes, Jr. Graduating. "How is that possible?" In his mind, his son had still only been away for a matter of months. There was no way he was old enough to have completed high school. Given a fair amount more rest, he probably would have worked out the time difference on his own, but this had been... not a good few weeks for being mentally sharp, thank you.
Karla	"It's possible because time runs differently in Fandom," Karla said, backpedaling to try and find some of that misplaced diplomacy. "About a week passes in Fandom for every day that passes in your New York." Which meant that a day in Warren's world was a fortnight in her own. Oh dear, that might make things tricky in the future. Unless Warren really was serious about never going home again. ...Which might make this phone calls one of the worst decisions she'd ever made. Ugh. "Saturday is his birthday, in fact," she added quietly. "His twentieth birthday. As well as commencement." So soon?
World’s Best Dad	"His twen--" Warren bit the inside of his cheek to keep from sputtering. There was no way his son could be so old. He was seventeen. Seventeen, just a handful of months ago. If it hadn't really hit home before that his boy was growing up without him, the fact that he appeared to be doing so at seven times the speed he had anticipated was certainly hitting him now. "His twentieth. Saturday. Saturday your time, of course. What day is it now? How long do I have?" And did Warren even want him there?
Karla	That last question, that was the important one, wasn't it? "It's Friday morning," she said softly. "Invited guests will begin arriving any time now." And Karla wasn't inviting him. Exactly. Even she knew better than to go that far. But she was informing him. So he could make his own decision. That much, and no more, she would give him. Hopefully Warren would see the difference.
Warren, Jr.	"I...see," Warren said, slowly. His son's opinion of his intelligece aside, he was smart enough to realize that he was not not going to get any such invitation. And if he wasn’t going to get one from Karla, then the hope that he might get one from his son was barely a pipe-dream. "Does Warren even know you're calling me?"
Karla	"No." A little word to say so much.
Sad Panda	Almost too much, in fact. Warren bowed his head, the hand not holding the phone to his ear reaching for the bottle of scotch he'd begun keeping in his desk drawer. "I see," he repeated. Funny, how often he was saying that now, after his son had accused him of being blind. "Thank you for calling me, Karla. Now if you'll excuse me..." He coughed, trying to clear the thickness in his throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have some things I need to see to."
Karla	"Of course," Karla said softly, unsure if she should be glad or annoyed that she couldn't tell if he was going to come to graduation or not. The way she stuck her neck out just for informing him, the least he could do was tell her if he was going to show up. "Thank you for taking a moment out of your busy schedule to speak to me, Mr. Worthington." And hung up. Time enough to see whether she'd been right or wrong to call him. She could only hope the sinking feeling she had in her gut was from eating at the cafeteria today and not her answer.
Graduate of the ‘Tony Stark School of Coping’	After putting the receiver back on its cradle, Warren poured himself several fingers of scotch and drank it far too quickly than was appropriate for a seventy-five year old double-cask. He half wondered if he would have that reaction every time he ended up talking to Warren's girlfriend. The odds were good the answer to that was 'yes.' Once his glass was drained, Warren, Jr. picked up his phone again and called his receptionist's desk. He had some planning to do and not much time to do it in.
Ms. Receptionist	The receptionist answered with alacrity fueled by the desire to provide good service...aaaand a burning curiosity to know just what that call had been about. "Yes, Mr. Worthington?
On His Second Glass	Unfortunately, she wasn't going to be getting much in the way of answers--though plenty more fodder for gossip and speculation. "Cancel all my appointments today," he told her brusquely. "And for tomorrow morning just in case. Then get me Portalocity on line one."
U Srs?	"Cancel--Portalocity--are you going on a trip?" She bit her tongue as soon as she asked. That had been unprofessional. She tried to mitigate the question slightly. "Sir, you have a meeting with the Secretary of State this afternoon! And a press conference at ten tomorrow morning!"
Totes Srs	"Like I said, cancel everything," Warren continued ruthlessly. "I have an engagement far more important than either of those. One I absolutely refuse to miss." With that, he hung up the phone, leaving his receptionist to scramble around making preparations and wondering if her employer had finally lost his damn mind.