Reunited

"A romantic comedy? You don't strike me as a 'rom-com' sort of guy, but it's been years. I suppose you may have changed," shrugged the other man as he finally pushed the wine glass away, after downing far too many helpings. The fact he had to physically massage his temples in an attempt to end the headache was proof of how shit he already felt.

"I am your friend. Fuck everyone else. Can we go now? Honestly, you may need to just... let me lean on you or I'm going to end up on the floor of this restaurant."
 
It said something, the fact that he had more alcohol than Aubyn yet he was practically perfectly fine outside for his own flushed cheeks and occasional hiccups. He was a sociopath, his behavior was already extreme when it wasn't planned, so some alcohol wasn't going to make a big difference in his personality. Besides, when he was with Aubyn, he didn't follow his usual stiff and stern personality-wise.

Waving over the waiter, he handed down a solid 200 before offering a smirk when seeing the server's eyes widen. Offering his friend a hand for balance, he went as far as to push in Aubyn's chair. before tugging on his suit jacket. Shooting Suzanne a quick glance, his smirk only wavered briefly before returning once watching the other stumble a bit.

"We'll get you some ibuprofen and a nice ice pack, make you feel better," he cooed affectionately as he led the other out of the restaurant, smiling to the familiar faces of the restaurant all the while. "I mean, I think it's alright to get a bit drunk on your first day of freedom, eh?"
 
Now, Aubyn would never be this close to his friend in public. He wanted to maintain a respectable distance and, therefore, continue to have a respectable presence in this city-- as respectable as you could be deemed after coming out of a place for the criminally insane, anyway.

But, as was obvious by how hard he clung to his friend's hand and how he drunkenly stumbled beside him, he was insanely intoxicated right now. All his usual codes and conventions had been parked aside, replaced with a desire to just... do what he wanted, however it looked to the public around him. Besides, for now, he was an unknown to them all. It brought with it an inability to be named and shamed.

"It's alright to get drunk is it? So I haven't totally embarrassed myself? I suppose I could be worse. I've seen drunk people before, when I first got out of hospital. They were passed out in the street, some were practically having sex. It was god awful. That said, maybe I'll end up like that, the night's still young. Maybe I'll go wild, wear some fluorescent wristbands, go 'snog' a fine young man or woman or whatever it is I like."
 
"Oh, hush, will you? You aren't going off to make out with someone at a club, it isn't in you. You're better than that, in fact. If I were to see you making out with a stranger, it would be in a fine jazz lounge over a few martinis. I can't stop you from going and making a proper fool of yourself, but I recommend you stay low for the rest of the night. It's been years since we've last seen one another and I want to savor every moment with you," he purred as he helped the other into his car, going as far as to seatbelt him in.

"Now, unlike you, I know how to repair my image if you do anything stupid. You're my closest assistant being seen blackout drunk, and I can assure you that'll only cause some local drama magazines to buzz a bit. I mean, I've done much worse than be seen by a drunkard," he reassured as he buckled himself in, glancing at the driver with a knowing nod.
 
"I-I-hic-I can only imagine," he slurred happily, collapsing into the car and, once resting his head on his hand, rather quickly fell asleep right there and then. He had fallen drunk incredibly quickly after a few glasses of wine, and he was generally exhausted too, so it really was no surprise that he slumber off like that once in the warmth and the comfort of the smart car.

Up front, the chauffeur managed a brief smile back at his employer. Being the mayor's driver may not seem to be the most exciting job in the world, but it definitely, definitely was. He could sell all the stories he had gathered over the last two years for millions of dollars if he wanted to. He'd heard a lot from the mayor's phone calls and his general polite conversations that could ruin Philip's adored reputation in seconds.

Fortunately, the chauffeur -Duncan- was a professional. He wouldn't dream of repeating anything he heard. Besides, he liked Philip. The man had always treated him well, paid him on time, understood that Duncan sometimes had to take a night off to care for his infant son when the babysitter let him down.

"...Is your mate alright, sir? Too much wine, is it?" He lightly smiled, plugging his own seatbelt in and, after adjusting his smart cap, began the car. "Did you enjoy your meal? I've heard good things about that place, my Ma says they do the best tagliatelle in town."
 
"It was alright. I didn't get anything too crazy, didn't want to culture-shock my friend here," he explained quietly as he adjusted the other's suit jacket properly. Once he was sure Aubyn was comfortable, he leaned in close with a grin toward Duncan. Some may say it was strange to have a comfortable companionship with someone lower than you, and he often thought that with many people, but Duncan was an exception - he had to give credit to anyone who put up with as many shitty nights he had. Not to mention, the man was sweet enough to warm him up a tad.

"The man's been pretty far away from society for awhile, it isn't surprising he's such a lightweight. Either that, or I've become way too used to the ol' grape juice," he teased as he absently stretched out. For someone who had the same - if not, more - alcohol than his friend, he was still pretty focused, after all. "Too expensive for only okay food."
 
"I'm a beer man myself. Can't stand wine. I guess I ain't got the palate for it," replied the platinum-blonde man as he cast another quick grin over his shoulder. He was an experienced driver, starting aged 16, and hadn't got into a single scrape in all his 12 years of driving. There was a reason he was employed to drive the mayor - he could clearly be trusted.

"I don't think I can work tomorrow morning either, sir. My kid's gotta go see if he can get a new hearing aid fitted, it's a whole huge issue-- I don't like leaving you in the lurch with some other driver, but y'know, I ain't got anyone to take my kid to the hospital-- it ain't your business, you don't need to know the details. I could work if you really needed me to. I know you hate that other guy. What's his name? Ben?"
 
"I think I can handle Ben for a few hours. You should know I'm stronger willed than that," he scolded teasingly as he ran a hand through his hair, sighing wearily. "You don't have to work tomorrow, that's fine. See, at least you tell me in advance. Suzanne - my assistant - she doesn't even tell me an hour before she needs to show up. She called three hours into her shift that she couldn't come in. Meanwhile my friend here is all googly-eyes. Disgusting, rightVl he grunted, scoffing at the mere thought as his lighthearted smile grew into a scowl.
 
"Suzanne-- ah, that girl that carries your files into the car sometimes? Ah, yeah, I ain't fond. She spat out her gum in the car and told me to clean it up. I wasn't gonna say anything, it ain't my place to, but if you don't like her, I think I'm alright to admit to 'ya that she ain't on my Christmas card list anytime soon. Your pal will see that, I'm sure. He ain't an idiot, is he?" Remarked the driver casually, feeling a little relief leaving his shoulders after getting his feelings off his chest about Suzanne. He'd only had that one incident with her, but her self-entitled and superiority bullshit hadn't been well appreciated.

Granted, Philip had been like that when he was first assigned to drive him, but he'd slowly but surely worked his way into the man's good books. He may not be all champagne and privileges, he may be quite 'common', and he may not be a huge fan of the folk at the top of society, but he liked Philip, and he was relatively confident the feeling from the mayor was mutual.
 
"He's a smart man, and here he goes, being interested in her. Why? She's conventionally attractive, sure. Other than that? She's rich, maybe. She has no redeemable personality, she has the manners of a plunger, and she's, well... she's a cunt, to be frank. The only reason she works with me is that I owed her father a favor. She is my assistant, one that I don't even need. The thing is, I imagine he'll just freak out of he knew I fired her because of him. I couldn't care less about her father," he grumbled bitterly as he stared forward, his cheeks a bit red in mild frustration.

"Fuck that. Hey, at least it's nice to be able to vent to someone who doesn't really have a secret motive. You and Aubyn here are the only people who I feel I can be real with, you know?"
 
"I'm just your driver, sir. I don't matter, not really-- but if I can talk openly, I'm sure your friend will realise that she's not worth his time," shrugged Duncan as he let out a long sigh at hitting the lights for the third time that night. He would suggest a different route, but that might prolong the drive by another twenty minutes, and, with Aubyn in need of a comfortable bed, he wasn't dumb enough to suggest that.

"Did you say Aubyn? The Whiteley kid? Oh yeah, now I see it," he absently murmured, casting a glance back with the mirror and briefly smiled to himself at how it had taken for him to realise. He should have guessed that this was Aubyn Whiteley from when he'd been ordered to drive to and collect from the mental institution. That was the biggest clue possible, but... well, he sometimes wasn't great at thinking things through when his mind was pretty much full with a lot of things. "...Do his folks know he's out? They're flapping their gums out. I used to drive this kid's mother to the opera and the theatre about five years back. She's not a great woman."
 
"The very one," he confirmed simply as he watched each red light, his expression going blank all the while. "His parents don't know, no. If they did, they'd go on and try to sue me or something even though their son is an adult and can do as he pleases. Now, you know I like and care about you, Duncan, but I can't let anyone know about this little secret until they make the connection themselves, alright? I hope I can trust you enough to keep this between you and me. I want your kid to get that new hearing aid." He murmured before offering a sudden grin and a pat to the man's back.

"I've got this all planned out. The only down-side to this is that Aubyn is shit at getting over his 'rich boy' aesthetic. He was embarrassed to be drunk, for fuck's sake. I'm the mayor and I'm not even that bashful."
 
"...You know me better than to repeat anything I hear in this car. I'm not fond of losing my job, sir. I like this job. It pays well and my kid brags at school that his Dad gets to drive around the mayor, you know? I ain't gonna ruin that for the kid, so no worries. I ain't gonna blab," he promised softly, his voice quietening down-- mostly because he didn't want to start offering advice up about Aubyn. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and lose his job.

Besides, he was coming to terms with the fact that his was the son of the infamous Whiteley family. It was a huge deal-- but, as much as he may want to tell family and friends, he was going to remain professional and forget about it when he got out of the car.
 
"Hey, you should know that you can treat this the exact same way as I do, okay? It's like... I think the car is a lot like a small therapy session between just you and me - bar my friend here, obviously. If you've got anything on your chest you want to tell me, now is the time to do it," he explained with a soft hum before leaning over to turn down the radio, a smile on his face.

"How long have you been working for me now, Duncan? At least a year, maybe two? Yet, I'm in this same car nearly every day. That's the one thing I love about you, you always seem to be grounded. I bet you and your wife are super sweet outside of this shitty job, huh?" He cooed, his voice slurred a tad.
 
"Me and my wife-- oh god, no. Nah, she divorced me about... six months back, I think. That's all in the past, sir. Divorces are hectic, though we probably shouldn't have got married. I just thought I was doing the proper thing, you know? We were going to have a kid and I thought we should marry. Dumb mistake. Cost me a fucking fortune and the divorce didn't help me financially either," shrugged the man, realising that he hadn't actually discussed that to him before, but that only really symbolised the power politics between them - he knew most of what was going on within Philip's life because he talked quite a lot, while Duncan barely ever had a chance to open up in return-- but he didn't mind. He was just the driver, after all. He didn't mind putting himself down, because hell, Philip was the mayor. He was quite happy to admit that they weren't equals.

"It ain't no worry, sir. I'm happy on my own, y'know? Women are a pain in the ass-- my wife was, anyway. You know, she doesn't even see our kid? She's off somewhere now-- Spain, I think. Vacationing abroad while I'm stuck here, working my ass off. Makes you sick, huh? Not that you have that worry, but still."
 
"Spain? What is her name, Duncan?" He questioned curiously as he watched the street signs pass. Sure, the wine was definitely a reason behind it, but Phillip's sympathy was a rare sight to be seen. Hell, he shot a woman right in the forehead after having pretty passionate sex all for the chance to be connected with the mafia. Sure, if anyone questioned why he was being so caring for Duncan, he could claim that he wanted his driver to be happy so that he could perform well.

"Look, you don't have to worry about her. Your son should be proud to be raised by such a good man. I mean, you've worked for me on holidays - not even my assistant does that."
 
"Her name? Oh, Donna. She was a real bitch, sir, you don't need to ask about her or nothin'. I'm totally fine with being on my own with my kid. It... it ain't easy, obviously. I gotta work hard hours, work a whole lot, but I don't mind. I like my job, it ain't no problem--"

"Ngh... Philip? Who are you talking to? You aren't talking to the help, are you?" Grumbled the drunken man tiredly, Aubyn's eyes sleepily opening to take in the sight of his best friend at his side. Forcing himself to sit up from his slouched position, he groaned at the oncoming headache he was dealt with and rested his head on the glass of the window. "You speak too loud. Can't you focus on driving? That's your job, isn't it? To drive, not to talk? Do that. My head's in pieces, I could do without the running commentary, thank you."
 
"I know it's hard for you to get out of that 'I'm better than you' attitude, but Duncan is more than 'the help', Aubyn. Be respectful," he scolded, though kept his voice low nonetheless. Rolling his eyes, the mayor moved to return his chin to the small window dividing them and Duncan with a smile. He was still incredibly peeved at the other for his wandering eyes toward Suzanne, so why couldn't he enjoy a conversation with a man he had known for quite awhile.

"When we get home, I'll make you up a proper drink and you can sleep, how does that sound?" He offered Aubyn as the sight of his home came into view. With a heavy sigh, he rummaged through his pocket to pull out two 100's. Money meant nothing to him, after all, and to hear the news about the divorce and the general struggle for Duncan definitely plucked on his heartstrings. Slipping them through the window, he offered the man a pat on the shoulder before leading Aubyn out carefully.
 
Despite Duncan's efforts to hand the money back, Aubyn had effectively shut down that attempt unknowingly when he dragged Philip out with him. If he didn't have his friend at his side to support him, he was fully aware that he'd just end up drunkenly collapsed on the floor.

"I don't h-have a... an attitude, Philip. I mean, I'm better than most people. It's factual. You're better than the scum of this city, we're both at the top, aren't we? J-Jeez, let's not beat about the bush and be coy about it. We're f-fantastic~"
 
Waving goodbye to Duncan, he led Aubyn up the stairs slowly as to keep him from somehow becoming dead weight halfway up them. With an arm around the other's waist, the man grunted in response as he unlocked the door.

Once inside, he helped the other onto a couch and turned him to the side before retrieving a small garbage. He hadn't seen the other in seven years, so he wasn't quite sure how he would react to so much alcohol - it was understandable to want to be as cautious as possible. Taking a seat besides the other on the floor, he tugged his knees to his chest and watched his reaction before clearing his throat.

"I don't mean to sound like a dick, but according to everyone other than me and Duncan, you're a nobody. You can't put people down until you've earned the status, and you never spit on the people you rely on. I don't often care about others, but Duncan is sort of like my therapist. Not to mention he's an amazing driver, unlike my backup. If I were to lose Duncan's trust, I'd lose my best driver. I don't want that."
 
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