Post by Iceman on Aug 27, 2006 14:23:54 GMT -5
"What am I, your friggin' carrier pigeon? I should have just dropped you, dude." Warren was grumbling as he set down on the roof of the building. It was possibly lucky for Bobby that he was born and raised in New York, and so knew his way around the city from pretty much any angle - on land or in the sky - but he was still going to grumble about how he wasn't running an aerial cab service for as long as he could.
"Shouldn't you have caught a cab or something anyway? Or, you know, stopped the third time I beat your ass at Need for Speed?" He grinned over at Bobby as they hit the button for the elevator. "Bet they're not expecting this kind of entrance." He paused for a moment. "At least I put a shirt on, right?" In fact, he'd even put a hoodie on, though his wings were out in the open. His signature gravity-defying jeans, in combination with the striped tee, were skirting the line of public indecency, but Warren wasn't exactly the type to care. He knew he looked good.
Bobby rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if to say, 'Here we go again', but accompagnied his mock exasperation with a grin. "As if you ever keep your clothes on for long," he jabbed as the elevator door slid open and Bobby moved inside, out of the wind.
It was a cloudy day, rain threatening to fall since morning but never making good on it's promise, and Bobby was glad he had worn long-sleeves. A sweater, in fact. He'd gone back and forth between the sweater and the hoodie before deciding that sweaters looked more professional. Besides, it was tighter than a hoodie would have been, due to the beefed-up form Bobby was still testing out.
"Who needs Need for Speed, anyway? That's childsplay." Which they both knew was bullshit; Bobby had yet to find a video game he didn't like. "Remind me why I brought you along again?"
"I believe it was cause you needed a lift, Iceboy." He was tempted to say something about those ice slides but knew that it would ruin the mood. "I'll have to try not to out-pretty you. Difficult, I know, but I'm sure I'll manage." The angelic mutant flashed a mouthful of white teeth at his friend in an amused grin. He couldn't help but think how funny rumours that Bobby was gay all over the news could be, but that would also publicly implicate him. The only downfall of which, in Warren's mind, would be the potential dates lost.
Bobby shook his head and pressed the button for the floor they needed to arrive on. He knew he and Warren were both good-looking, and he also knew that Warren was much more of the perfect, male model type of attractive than was Bobby. He'd come to terms with it, though he'd never even acknowledge it to Warren, and it rarely bothered Bobby. They usually went for different girls, anyway, and never really got in each others' ways in that sense.
"I still don't understand why you try and impress other people. You obviously impress yourself plenty," he teased as the elevator started to move. "I'll put in a word for you. Who knows, maybe they'll do a little blurb about you somewhere in the magazine." He winked at his friend, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"Oh, sweetheart, unlike you, I don't need an article length personal ad." Imitating Bobby, Warren put his hands into the pockets of his jeans, which tugged them down dangerously. He grinned as the lift dinged at them and motioned with his head for Bobby to exit first. "So... How much have they budgeted for airbrushing?"
Bobby laughed heartily at Warren's first jab, falling sideways against the side of the elevator. There were times when even he was bested in humor--though Warren was the only one who could do it often--and he always gave credit where credit was due when that happened. When the door slid open, he stood and walked out, shaking his head. "Probably about as much as you spend on a pedicure in one sitting," he retorted, laughing again as he looked around. >
They were in a large lobby, which had wide hallways opening off of it in various directions. The tile floor was white, the walls were white--the entire place was done largely in white, silver, and glass. It was much as Bobby had expected it to be, but he was still psyched that he was there. Though he had acted casual about the interview, Warren could tell that his friend was excited.
"Hey, don't knock nice toenails. I'd rather have pedicures than your talons." Not only cause of the bird reference in there, either. They approached the girl at the desk - who was looking rather bored - and she directed them off down one of the hallways. Directing a sideways glance at Bobby, Warren grinned again. "So what am I supposed to do while they put on your makeup, huh?"
Bobby just shot him a look in response to the comment of pedicures versus talons, one half disbelieving that he actually defended pedicures, one half because of his own nails being called 'talons'. "Preen yourself?" he offered with a perfectly innocent expression.
Just then, a woman caught his eye, which was exactly what she had been trying to do. She wore a tag that signified that she was allowed to be in the various studios and meeting rooms in the building, which gave her name as 'Sherry'. "You must be Bobby," she said warmly, and Bobby stopped.
"How did you know?" he asked with a smile, before glancing to his side at the very wings he'd just been making fun of. "Oh," he said, answering his own question with a nod. "Yeah, I'm him. And this accessory--" He jerked his head towards Angel. "--Is Warren."
"Hi." He flashed another toothy grin. "It's lovely to meet you, Sherry." Holding out a hand for her to shake, he looked to Bobby and then back to her. "I don't suppose there's somewhere I can wait without getting in the way?" As much as Warren could be, to put it bluntly, an ass when he wanted to, he could also be all business. He hoped that the somewhere would have stools rather than couches. Lying down in public never went particularly well. Those old paintings of angels sitting on clouds? All lies.
Sherry had already stared at his wings upon seeing him, and carefully didn't acknowledge them. She was not about to do anything that could possibly piss off these two. She'd seen their lot on the news, and knew that they were just as much soldiers as anyone serving in the U.S. military. Besides, she'd had to be polite to the likes of Paris Hilton--if she could handle that, she could pretend that the gorgeous man in front of her didn't have feathers sprouting from his back.
"The lobby back the way you came is quite comfy, and if you need a snack or anything to drink, you can just ask the secretary who's out there. And once we're ready for the photo shoot, I can have someone come get you if you want to be there."
Bobby bit back any teasing comment he might have had, the only hint of his thoughts being the way his lips twitched into a smile and he bit his lip and ducked his head.
"Thanks, Sherry, I might come to watch for a little while." He wandered back out into the lobby and looked around. No stools. Looks like I'm standing for a while.
Bobby nodded to Warren and turned to follow Sherry, licking his lips and telling himself he had no reason to be nervous about any questions they might throw at him. He told himself to just take one thing at a time.
First the make-up. Questions later.
"Shouldn't you have caught a cab or something anyway? Or, you know, stopped the third time I beat your ass at Need for Speed?" He grinned over at Bobby as they hit the button for the elevator. "Bet they're not expecting this kind of entrance." He paused for a moment. "At least I put a shirt on, right?" In fact, he'd even put a hoodie on, though his wings were out in the open. His signature gravity-defying jeans, in combination with the striped tee, were skirting the line of public indecency, but Warren wasn't exactly the type to care. He knew he looked good.
Bobby rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if to say, 'Here we go again', but accompagnied his mock exasperation with a grin. "As if you ever keep your clothes on for long," he jabbed as the elevator door slid open and Bobby moved inside, out of the wind.
It was a cloudy day, rain threatening to fall since morning but never making good on it's promise, and Bobby was glad he had worn long-sleeves. A sweater, in fact. He'd gone back and forth between the sweater and the hoodie before deciding that sweaters looked more professional. Besides, it was tighter than a hoodie would have been, due to the beefed-up form Bobby was still testing out.
"Who needs Need for Speed, anyway? That's childsplay." Which they both knew was bullshit; Bobby had yet to find a video game he didn't like. "Remind me why I brought you along again?"
"I believe it was cause you needed a lift, Iceboy." He was tempted to say something about those ice slides but knew that it would ruin the mood. "I'll have to try not to out-pretty you. Difficult, I know, but I'm sure I'll manage." The angelic mutant flashed a mouthful of white teeth at his friend in an amused grin. He couldn't help but think how funny rumours that Bobby was gay all over the news could be, but that would also publicly implicate him. The only downfall of which, in Warren's mind, would be the potential dates lost.
Bobby shook his head and pressed the button for the floor they needed to arrive on. He knew he and Warren were both good-looking, and he also knew that Warren was much more of the perfect, male model type of attractive than was Bobby. He'd come to terms with it, though he'd never even acknowledge it to Warren, and it rarely bothered Bobby. They usually went for different girls, anyway, and never really got in each others' ways in that sense.
"I still don't understand why you try and impress other people. You obviously impress yourself plenty," he teased as the elevator started to move. "I'll put in a word for you. Who knows, maybe they'll do a little blurb about you somewhere in the magazine." He winked at his friend, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"Oh, sweetheart, unlike you, I don't need an article length personal ad." Imitating Bobby, Warren put his hands into the pockets of his jeans, which tugged them down dangerously. He grinned as the lift dinged at them and motioned with his head for Bobby to exit first. "So... How much have they budgeted for airbrushing?"
Bobby laughed heartily at Warren's first jab, falling sideways against the side of the elevator. There were times when even he was bested in humor--though Warren was the only one who could do it often--and he always gave credit where credit was due when that happened. When the door slid open, he stood and walked out, shaking his head. "Probably about as much as you spend on a pedicure in one sitting," he retorted, laughing again as he looked around. >
They were in a large lobby, which had wide hallways opening off of it in various directions. The tile floor was white, the walls were white--the entire place was done largely in white, silver, and glass. It was much as Bobby had expected it to be, but he was still psyched that he was there. Though he had acted casual about the interview, Warren could tell that his friend was excited.
"Hey, don't knock nice toenails. I'd rather have pedicures than your talons." Not only cause of the bird reference in there, either. They approached the girl at the desk - who was looking rather bored - and she directed them off down one of the hallways. Directing a sideways glance at Bobby, Warren grinned again. "So what am I supposed to do while they put on your makeup, huh?"
Bobby just shot him a look in response to the comment of pedicures versus talons, one half disbelieving that he actually defended pedicures, one half because of his own nails being called 'talons'. "Preen yourself?" he offered with a perfectly innocent expression.
Just then, a woman caught his eye, which was exactly what she had been trying to do. She wore a tag that signified that she was allowed to be in the various studios and meeting rooms in the building, which gave her name as 'Sherry'. "You must be Bobby," she said warmly, and Bobby stopped.
"How did you know?" he asked with a smile, before glancing to his side at the very wings he'd just been making fun of. "Oh," he said, answering his own question with a nod. "Yeah, I'm him. And this accessory--" He jerked his head towards Angel. "--Is Warren."
"Hi." He flashed another toothy grin. "It's lovely to meet you, Sherry." Holding out a hand for her to shake, he looked to Bobby and then back to her. "I don't suppose there's somewhere I can wait without getting in the way?" As much as Warren could be, to put it bluntly, an ass when he wanted to, he could also be all business. He hoped that the somewhere would have stools rather than couches. Lying down in public never went particularly well. Those old paintings of angels sitting on clouds? All lies.
Sherry had already stared at his wings upon seeing him, and carefully didn't acknowledge them. She was not about to do anything that could possibly piss off these two. She'd seen their lot on the news, and knew that they were just as much soldiers as anyone serving in the U.S. military. Besides, she'd had to be polite to the likes of Paris Hilton--if she could handle that, she could pretend that the gorgeous man in front of her didn't have feathers sprouting from his back.
"The lobby back the way you came is quite comfy, and if you need a snack or anything to drink, you can just ask the secretary who's out there. And once we're ready for the photo shoot, I can have someone come get you if you want to be there."
Bobby bit back any teasing comment he might have had, the only hint of his thoughts being the way his lips twitched into a smile and he bit his lip and ducked his head.
"Thanks, Sherry, I might come to watch for a little while." He wandered back out into the lobby and looked around. No stools. Looks like I'm standing for a while.
Bobby nodded to Warren and turned to follow Sherry, licking his lips and telling himself he had no reason to be nervous about any questions they might throw at him. He told himself to just take one thing at a time.
First the make-up. Questions later.
