Tattoos: Many (including the majority of FCâs actual tattoos), mostly small. Most notable: snake on right forearm; fleur de lis on left ankle; koi fish on side of left wrist.
Faceclaim: Lewis Tan
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tw death
Edgar Yang-Fortier had sold his soul to the devil. How else was he supposed to feel when the only thing heâd ever wanted, ever worked for, had been bought and sold through bribery and extortion?Â
Edgar Yang-Fortier had grown up in relative luxury. For generations, the Fortier family had been renowned vintners. Theyâd started out in southern France only to immigrate to Paxton, Arizona a few decades back. It was then that Desert Bloom Winery was born, when Xavier Fortier met and married Daiyu Yang, the daughter of a local farmer. On paper, the match appeared to be blessed â Xavier had been born and bred into wine making knowledge, and Daiyu came from a long line of people whoâd loved and cared for their parcel of land. Their two expertises, then, could be nothing less that fruitful. In practice, though, the match was ill fated from the start.Â
Xavier Fortier was something of a monster who terrorized his young family behind closed doors. On top of that, over the years, he developed a gambling habit, often finding himself indebted to a variety of sources. So, it came as no surprise, then, when, on the occasion of his death a mere year ago, it was discovered that Desert Bloom Winery was so steeped in debt that there was simply no other option than to sell.Â
It was then that Obsidian Holdings came knocking. Edgar had met and had a brief fling with Lindsey Gallagher during their college days, but college had ended and heâd returned to Paxton with the intent of taking over the winery, and had hardly thought twice about the woman in the years that followed. Finding her on his doorstep days after his fatherâs funeral had come as a surprise, but her offer had felt like an inevitability.Â
Without the knowledge of his siblings, Edgar accepted the offer â sell the winery in all but name to Obsidian Holdings and continue to operate business as usual. The winery would host events when Obsidian needed and the Fortier-Yang family would become donors to the cause, but in the way that it counted â for prideâs sake â they would be able to hold on to their legacy.
The offer was clearly extortionary. Edgar could see all of the ways this could go up in flames, but heâd been given an opportunity to redeem and secure his familyâs legacy and he would take it even if it required making a deal with the devil. His siblings arenât aware of the inner workings of the deal. In their minds, heâs simply accepted a loan which has allowed him to push off some of the businessâs debt for the time being, but Edgar knows better â heâs doomed himself all for the chance to save his family, and heâd do it again if he had to.Â
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Edgar likes to believe that heâs a neutral party. Heâd grown up in this town, known both Randall and Alicia, but had never allowed himself to become enmeshed in the goings on of the Cowboy Mafia. As a donor to Obsidian Holdings, though, and the face of their newest acquisition, itâs difficult to remain neutral in this fight. He hates everything Obsidian stands for, hates who he has become, but recognizes that to save his familyâs legacy, he would take that deal every sing time.Â
"I didn't have much of a chance to attend many wine tastings." TJ lamented. "Sounds like something I probably would've done when I turned twenty-one and was allowed to legally drink." Probably after they'd done some kind of small local bar crawl or gone out drinking in Phoenix. Instead, TJ's twenty-first birthday had been spent behind bars. At least their cell mate had bought them a bunch of chips and snacks from commissery. "I wasn't about to drink prison hooch, twenty-first birthday or not," TJ chuckled. "I should come and check it out some time. Pretend I'm sophisticated for once."
TJ couldn't help but grin at Edgar's agreement to take a sticker. They got a small sense of satisfaction, getting through someone's tough exterior. They got it. They were often pretty deadpan themselves, and found interest in dark topics that most people found to be weird. It was nice to share something and have it be accepted. "Okay, let's see." They pulled open a tupperware container where they'd been keeping everything together. "Do we think you're more of a clipper ship guy, or a traditional swallow? Wait, wait, I have this one left." TJ picked out a sticker with a catcus drawn on it in a traditional kind of design, except it was giving the finger and said 'don't touch me' above it. "Perfect."
"Well, we host tours regularly. Daily, if you'd like to schedule ahead. One specific weekends of the month if you'd like to be a bit more spontaneous about it. The tour ends with a tasting and the specific blends vary by seasons." Edgar rattled off the information as if he'd said them a million times before because he had. The tours were one of his favorite things about the winery. Of course, patrons were more than welcome to come and sit on any given day and enjoy a glass, but Edgar enjoyed the idea of pulling back the curtain every now and then and allowing people to see the work and dedication that went into creating most of their blends. "It's an interesting experience, if I do say so myself. Whether or not you consider yourself a connoisseur, I definitely recommend doing the tour and tasting at least once."
Edgar watched as Toby looked for the perfect sticker. He wasn't the kind of person who put stock into representing one's personality through things like that but he couldn't help but chuckle a bit when he saw the particular sticker they'd selected. "Thank you," he replied, turning the tiny sticker over in his hands before sliding it into his pocket. "Maybe I'll have to stop by and get this little guy tattooed one day."
for: open (0/4)
location: main street market (february fried food fridays)
The different scents of all the various foods cooking from the different food trucks filled the air, pulling Matiasâs attention in every direction. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it for the time being. He walks along the line of food trucks, scanning each one, trying to decide which one he would end up taking a gamble with. This was probably the safest bet he would ever make because he did not think a single one of these food trucks would be a miss, but still he wanted to see if something just jumped out at him.
He stops walking, looking at the truck he stopped in front of, wondering if this is what he will settle on. His eyes travel over to someone in line, âSorry to bug ya,â Mat begins, offering an apologetic smile, âI am having a hard time deciding what to pick. Do you think youâll be eating from here? If so, what do you recommend?â
Edgar was not typically a food truck kind of person. From a business standpoint, he could understand the food truck hype but sue him, but he firmly believed that food should not be served on wheels. But even he could make an exception every now and then. "I can understand being overwhelmed by all the choices," he replied. The first time he'd been introduced to the food trucks at the main street market, he'd found the variety intriguing -- choice could be good -- but actually settling on one thing had taken some time. That first time, he'd chosen to try the cupcake truck because one couldn't really go wrong with a sweet treat and the idea of a mobile cupcake stand was too intriguing to resist, but then he'd gathered the courage (or the audacity, he wasn't quite sure) to try the truck that touted to have the best steamed buns and he'd been hooked ever since. "I'm particular to Carina's steamed buns," he continued, motioning with a thumb towards the truck in question. He'd visited the establishment so frequently that he was now on a first name basis was the owner. "I'd recommend the chicken katsu or the pork bun. Or both."
Once Joel said the words out loud, Edgar struggled to put them to bed. He'd never looked like his father -- there were shared features, of course -- but for the most part, Edgar had favored his mother in appearance since childhood, but the man staring back at him from the screen? That man looked Xavier Fortier had in twenties. His features were a bit softer, but the eyes were the same. The jawline. The imperious line of his nose. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" Edgar's voice was quiet, as if he spoke too loudly, the universe would find every way to make this a reality. "I mean, I wouldn't put it passed him. He was away often enough, and with all of the transactions you detailed..." Edgar's voice trailed off. "It makes sense."
That realization shouldn't have offended him as much as it did. By now, Edgar should have known better than the expect any shred of humanity from Xavier. And yet... he continued to hope that he would learn something about the man that would redeem him somehow. "I wonder if my mother knew." The words were spoken before Edgar had processed them, but as he considered them, his gaze snapped to Joel's. "How deep do you think this goes? Do you think that my mother was covering for him too?"
âYes, Iâm sorry,â Joel said almost automatically. If there was anything Joel learned over the years, it was that lust and lovers cost money â often in the form of secret accounts. There was also blackmail. Joel wasnât sure which one Henri Richard possibly fell into. Edgar wasnât either as he processed the can of worms Joel opened.
He tossed back the rest of his whiskey. The bite and the warmth loosened up the tension in his shoulders. Joel scrubbed a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp, trying to self soothe. âItâs hard to say. My suggestion? Dig through Xavierâs records more, see how often Xavier may have corresponded with Henri or his family, and his actions with Theo. Iâm not suggesting bringing all this to Daiyu, but maybe ask if sheâs familiar with this family? See what she thinks of them.â
Toby gave a shrug. "Hey, working at the studio wouldn't entitle them to free ink, either, but I'd still want 'em to know about what we're selling, what my art looks like so they know they're not supporting some back alley scratcher." That concept was sort of funny considering the way TJ had started tattooing to begin with. They didn't exactly have a proper apprenticeship or use the right supplies. It was all stuff pieced together from around a prison.
The horrible mom heart tattoo on the back of TJ's shoulder given to them by another inmate was evidence enough of why that wasn't necessarily a good idea, but it was their origin story, so they'd never got it covered. "What, don't tell me you're having a hard time filling 'em. I feel like it's the kind of place people would think is 'cool' to work. Like a guitar shop." TJ cocked their head at him. "That mean you don't want a sticker?" they asked, holding one up to playfully offer to him. "C'mon. I drew the art myself."
"The winery hosts tours and tastings frequently enough," Edgar replied. "Plus, I'd hope that anyone who applied here would already know what the business implied. At the very least, the fact that we grow, press, and sell wine." Maybe he wasn't in a position to be picky about employees. Maybe he should be more understanding. After all, he'd had classmates in high school who'd worked weekends and summers at the winery. He couldn't say for sure that they'd known what they were getting into. But Desert Bloom had always been a special place to Edgar and he was protective of it, even if some would claim that his actions said otherwise.
"No, actually. This is more of a formality." The winery had been doing relatively well. He hadn't yet managed to dig himself out from under the debt his father had created, but the business itself was not at risk anymore. Edgar had Obsidian Holdings to thank for that. "We only have a few positions to fill, mostly waitstaff as those positions tend to have a higher turnover. If you happen to be interested or know someone who may be." Edgar pulled a business card from the stack on the table and slid it towards TJ. "And yes, I'll take that sticker now."
The silence between them lasted longer than it should have. There was always something coming up that took up her time. Decisions that had to be made with work, with family and what they were supposed to do now, and the cowboys. The time apart allowed her to put as much as she could into perspective. The next step had her in limbo. A decision on what to do next involved both of them, which is part of why they were in this situation now.
They'll figure out what's next but it's the holidays. Mila has come bearing gifs. She didn't arrive as early as she wanted, but her mother's eavesdropping and guessing correctly who she was going to see delayed that.
Mila made her way over to Edgar, her free hand pulling the chair out to sit as the other place the bag on the table. â Your number one fan, â her mother, â almost hijacked our little get together, â she teases, the corner of her lips turned upwards. There is a part of her that believes there is some truth to it. Either way, she wanted to start off light-hearted to leave less room for any awkwardness on her part.
â It's from my mom, â she continued, â â and me, I got it awhile ago and hid it at her place. â As much as she loves opening present, she found more joy in giving gifs. She knew he'd at least see her telltale sign or just give it to him early. Hiding it at the farm was best, she even forgot about it until the move to the Oceanview Apartments.
Edgar was pulled from his phone by the presence of his wife. "I wouldn't have minded," he replied. A few seconds passed before he realized how his reply must have sounded. "I mean," Edgar rushed to correct, "that I've missed seeing her too.' Mila's family was the exact opposite of his. While he maintained the relationship with his family members out of obligation, Mila's family members genuinely seemed to love and enjoy one another. He truly believed that they would have been friends with one another even if it hadn't been for an accident of birth. The Fortier home had never been a warm place -- in fact, the winery had always felt more like home than his actual house -- but Mila's home had been different; it had felt like home. From the first moment, he'd met them, her mother and aunts had doted on him. It felt strange now to be separated from that.
"Thank you," he said as he accepted the gift. He pulled his own gift from his pocket, a small box that contained a necklace, and slid it across the table to her. "I wasn't sure that we were exchanging gifts this year," he began, shoulders shrugging as he gave the disclaimer. "So, it's not as good as my usual presents."
A flash of a memory made Faye miss Edgar. This man that was before her, while he looked like Edgar, smelled like him, it was a careful composure of mirrors and walls. She remembered when he crushed a grape once and told her that he could exactly tell how the wine was going to age, and he had her for a full minute before bursting out laughing to tell her it was a joke. They used to laugh when her life was far from filled with laughter. He taught her how to read contracts â her father had been a handshake man, and the music industry had her in a labyrinth back then.
Faye waved a hand at the thought of insurance brokers. "As far as insurance goes, the truck insurance has been the shittiest one. The horse insurance was actually okay," she said with a shake of her head. The truck and trailer was a nightmare that continued to haunt her, but she'd work it out as best as she could. It meant the premium was definitely going to go up, but such was life. "I already know Marcus had a baby. Allory called me, she has my cell, actually." Faye loved Marcus's wife. She was a beam of sunshine and now there were two drops of sunshine in the town and that made Faye's heart happy.
"Man, you used to be so good with giving me good gossip about some niche contract. Had I know the free gossip subscription stopped with the girlfriend package, I would have been more cautious," Faye said with a crinkle of her nose and leaned to bump into his shoulder in the joke. "Do you remember when you crushed that grape and pretended you knew how it was age just on the sound or smell alone? You had me for a full minute on it."
"I'm sure it'll work out," Edgar assured. Insurance was a hellscape. He couldn't understand why. If people were expected to pay such high premiums to protect their high valued items, why did insurance companies punish them for needing to use that protection? It made no sense to him, but then again, Edgar wasn't in the insurance industry. Maybe it required insider information to understand.
"I should have expected that," Edgar laughed. "I'm going to have to add a clause to everyone's contract that prohibits them from speaking to you about personal things when you're here. Maybe then I won't have to hear from every member of my staff how wonderful Faye Blackburn is." He was teasing of course. Edgar suspected that if even attempted to restrict Faye's access to the winery staff or their access to her, there would be hell to pay. He'd probably have a strike on his hands; it wasn't worth the risk. "Okay, but have you seen a photo of her?" He was sure that she had. If Marcus and his wife had contacted Faye personally he was sure that photos of their new child had been shared. Still, he needed to feel as if he had something.
At her complaint, Edgar snorted. "Forgive me, I didn't know the most enticing thing about dating me was my access to gossip." He rolled his eyes and leaned back slightly in his chair. He'd need to go back to work soon, but this was a nice break in his day. "My god, you were so enthralled. You looked at me as if I was the most amazing person on earth." He laughed at that. It had only lasted for a few seconds but he'd preened under the attention. "I mean, we do know something about the notes the wine will have considering the rain fall and the temperatures, and we control the aging. So, was I really lying?"
"Indeed," Joel said. He rubbed the wrinkle between his brows as they fought to knit together with worry once again. Most days, Joel wondered what his life would have been like if he just decided to keep traveling and ignored the threats. In some ways, Joel felt like it would be easier in ways that e hadn't expected this path to be difficult. As Edgar began to make connections, Joel nodded along.
"I know," he said with a wry laugh. "I feel like that one clip with the guy looking crazy in front of the boards with all those red strings. Don't worry about your siblings, though. I can only handle one person trying to make sense of the things I'm trying to make sense of."
Joel nodded to the screen. Henri Richard. He was younger than both of them and had a cocky sort of glint in his eyes. After a moment, Joel frowned. "He looks a little like him, doesn't he? Xavier, I mean. Do you think it's possible that he's related to your family?"
Once Joel said the words out loud, Edgar struggled to put them to bed. He'd never looked like his father -- there were shared features, of course -- but for the most part, Edgar had favored his mother in appearance since childhood, but the man staring back at him from the screen? That man looked Xavier Fortier had in twenties. His features were a bit softer, but the eyes were the same. The jawline. The imperious line of his nose. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" Edgar's voice was quiet, as if he spoke too loudly, the universe would find every way to make this a reality. "I mean, I wouldn't put it passed him. He was away often enough, and with all of the transactions you detailed..." Edgar's voice trailed off. "It makes sense."
That realization shouldn't have offended him as much as it did. By now, Edgar should have known better than the expect any shred of humanity from Xavier. And yet... he continued to hope that he would learn something about the man that would redeem him somehow. "I wonder if my mother knew." The words were spoken before Edgar had processed them, but as he considered them, his gaze snapped to Joel's. "How deep do you think this goes? Do you think that my mother was covering for him too?"
Starter For: @edgarxfortier
Location: Castle Rock Resort, Job Fair
"Surprised they didn't ask you to also provide free bottles of wine. Or did they and you're just holding out on us?" Toby teased. They didn't know Edgar too well. His wife (ex-wife?) was a prominant local attorney and Edgar ran the winery. That was, in many ways, the extent of TJ's knowledge about the two of them. "I think people might be more inclined to sign up for a job if there was a bottle of wine in the littler bribery packages."
Many of the local business had brought things like pens or satchels with their logo on it. TJ had brought business cards, and stickers that showed some of their tattoo designs and art-work. "Heck, maybe I'd get more interest if I was handing out free needles. Although, not the kind most people would want. If they were into that kind of thing." TJ had a pretty small business, but they could take on an apprentice or two, maybe someone to help with admin. Being here might also encourage potential clients to check them out, so TJ had figured 'what the hell'.
Edgar hated being at this event. Networking always seemed to put him in a mood. Even though Edgar was, by nature, an extrovert, having to sell the open positions at the winery, especially now, made him feel as if he was peddling snake oil. "Working at winery doesn't entitle them to the wine, though. So, what would be the point?" He was grumpy, he recognized, and TJ was likely trying to keep themself entertained in order to make the hours pass by faster, but Edgar didn't have it in himself to indulge the comment. "People should sign up and interview for positions because they believe they bring something to the table, not because they're trying to get perks and privileges."
A smile bloomed on Faye's face because there was something of a victory in it. A shallow one and one that meant nothing, but she still liked it. The thing about Edgar was that everyone thought he was this man of hard times and all business, and Faye always found that there was some level of softness in him. It was well hidden, and like the rest of the feelings, it always felt icky to look too closely at, so she never pressed it. Instead Faye just quietly beamed at him.
"What can I say, I am good at getting people to admit things. Hire me for all your admitting things needs," Faye said with a laugh. Faye pushed out a chair for Edgar to join her. More than either of them would care to admit, they knew each other. There was a single line of relief and worry that had been etched on his face. "I'm okay." Faye offered that without him asking. He wasn't going to ask, but she knew he needed to hear that. "I needed the space. Dad was the only one who saw me for about a week and a half. And only because he used an excuse as a cover," Faye said with a wave of her hand. She was a little more structured about it. "Insurance is a nightmare, horse insurance even more so. They finally paid out for the ones I lost." Stumpy wasn't insured, and the money would have never been able to replace him. "On the bright side, Dad left me with co-chairman of the grumpy old ranchers club known as a black gelding named Headlight. He's a prick, the horse, that is." Faye laughed lightly.
Faye waved a hand because she didn't want or need the conversation to change. "So, as we know, I am nothing if not a shameless gossip. And I am now expecting something juicy from your life."
"Are your services available for our next wine tasting evening? I've always been curious what people actually think," he joked. He lowered his body in the offered chair, and nodded when she noted that was, in fact, okay. Theirs was a tentative sort of friendship. If their paths had unraveled differently, this woman would have been his wife. It was strange to think of that now especially as he hadn't spoken to his actual wife in much too long. Clearly, Faye had been right in untangling her life from his.
"I can't imagine the hassle of it all." Insurance was a nightmare. Edgar was glad that they'd never really had a true reason to trigger the insurance policies on the winery. Outside of the financial troubles, they'd been relatively lucky in that regard, but he knew enough small business owners to know that managing the aftermath of a tragedy could be another tragedy in and of itself. "If you ever need the support in helping them see reason, I may know a few people." He laughed and continued, "under no circumstance am I suggesting roughing up a few insurance brokers."
"Unfortunately," Edgar shrugged, "my life is the furthest thing from gossip fodder." That was blatantly untrue, but Edgar did not want to share the details of the things Joel had uncovered or the innermost truths of his failing marriage. "Guess I've officially hit the age where I'm boring. Though, if it helps, I did hear that your favorite member of my staff is now a proud parent."
Joel couldnât help but smile as Edgar reassured him that they were alright despite the recent cloud looming over them. He nodded. âThank you,â he said after a moment, then considered his next words carefully. âThis past couple of months have been difficult with what happened to my Uncle and seeing some of the former CFOâs records. If you were someone else this whole revelation likely would have wound up with me getting dragged into HR.â
Technically, that was still a possibility. Joel just trusted Edgar and his word. So, as Edgar asked his follow up questions, Joel nodded. âI think he meant for those transfers to happen; unless Xavier trusted Theo to log into his accounts, which I doubt he did, I think those sums were meant to route the way that they did. As for the why,â Joel turned his screen to reveal a list of names. âThis information is just me being me and digging into things. I noticed in the memos a certain string of initials and tried to see if they matched any of the other donor families and found this one. Another family with ties to France. I located the donorsâ accounts online and saw they had kids, so dug further. This is the sonâs account, Henri. I doubt Theo even knew this was taken and posted online, but hereâs the son at an event.â
Joel paused and rubbed a hand at his eyes. âI feel like a conspiracy theorist, but,â he clicked on a photo and zoomed in. âIs that them in the background â Theo and Xavier? Does this family name seem familiar to you?â
"Heavy is the crown," he said simply. Edgar couldn't even begin to imagine what the past few months had been like for Joel. He'd sold the winery and was not naive enough to believe that Obsidian Holdings were as altruistic in their motivations as they claimed, but he also trusted his friends' words. If Lindsey and Joel both worked for the companies, and in such positions of power no less, he knew that he could put his faith in them even if he couldn't put his faith fully in their organization; his friends would do the right thing if the need arose.
As Joel spoke, Edgar felt the knots that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach tighten. He'd known that his father was not a good man, but seeing it so clearly laid out was irrefutable proof to that end. "I can't speak to their relationship, honestly. Theo was his right hand. If Xavier was capable of having a best friend, it would have been Theo, but I also always suspected that there was something more between them, something unresolved. So, would Xavier have trusted him with that kind of information? Maybe, but Xavier also struggled to trust."
"Henri Richard?" Edgar shrugged. "I can't say that I know that name specifically, but my father's family still maintains ties in France. It wouldn't be farfetched to imagine that they would have known this person." Edgar leaned in closer so that he could have a better view of the documents and photos Joel had pulled up. "That definitely looks like them." Edgar paused for a second as he considered this all. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but Xavier did keep detailed records. I may be able to find something of use in his office." After he'd found the initial documents detailing the financial state of the winery, Edgar had stopped digging, but that was not to say that there wasn't more information to be found. "This entire thing sounds like a conspiracy, honestly, but I'm trusting you to tell me the truth here. Obviously, I'm not expecting you to risk your job for this, but if this leads to something bigger, I'd appreciate the heads up. I'd like to keep my siblings out of the blast as much as possible."
It was Wednesday. Which meant Faye was seated at her usual place at the bar, sipping her favorite pinot noir, and enjoying some brie on a toasted cracker. The saltiness of the cracker and lightness of the brie brought out the notes of the pinot that she really appreciated. Since the winery had sold, Faye did notice some difference in it. It got more... corporate. Marcus was a relic from the old days. He somehow managed to adapt and change, and perhaps some of that was purely because of his charm.
Her bruises had faded to a muddy yellow, the surface ones completely dissipated. Her makeup did a decent enough job of balancing out the yellow. The cast on her arm was far from being able to be concealed, the only bodily indication of the accident that had done an excellent job to shake Faye's confidence. Still, she put her brave face on and acted her way into feeling. It was rare to see Edgar even at the winery â he was a busy guy, and she didn't come here for him.
Yet, he was here. It was the way he walked that always got Faye's attention. A mix of casual and the well concealed gaze that captured all sorts of details. Edgar was a businessman, a damn good one. His eye for detail and quick wit lead into that. People often missed his intention was always on the good side â even if misguided at times. She smiled at him as he sauntered over. "Surprised to see the King in his kingdom," Faye said with a wink to him. Edgar and her were never quite right, yet she appreciated him more than she could muster up the words for. Edgar was on a mission that given to him at birth, he was going to see it through, no matter what. Faye wondered after the cost of that, and wondered if he ever considered the cost. "I'm going to think it's because I told you I come on Wednesdays and you missed my friendship so dearly, so decided to come surprise me. Don't correct me."
Ever since Desert Bloom had sold, Edgar had felt slightly out of place. It was his own fault, he knew, but it was still a lot to come to terms with. He was grateful, though, that he still had access to the place that had been the backdrop of his life. Truthfully, Edgar couldn't imagine what this space would have been had he been forced to call it quits. A golf course, maybe. Or more luxury apartments. He shuttered at the thought of it -- the rows and rows of grapevines uprooted, the greenery buried under layers of cement. It was the picture of hell in a single hypothetical.
"Yes, well..." Edgar shrugged. "Not quite my kingdom anymore." If anything, he was little more than a deposed ruler, a puppet king. It reminded him of the Roman strategy of maintaining a puppet head after taking a territory; in all the ways that mattered, Obsidian Holdings was the Roman Empire and the Fortiers (and Desert Bloom, by extent) had fallen to them. Shutting that thought down, Edgar smirked at Faye's comment. "How ever did you guess," he singsonged. She was a creature of habit, and subconsciously, he'd known that she'd be here. Edgar hadn't checked in since her accident -- he hadn't really known if she would want him to -- but seeing her now was something of a relief. It was clear, of course, that she wasn't back to perfect just yet, but she was alive and smiling, and that was all that counted. "I can't believe you have me admitting that I missed your face. We all did."
Joel gave Edgar space after their last conversation at Desert Bloom. A part of him was resigned to their friendship being strained beyond the point of repair. After all, Joel plainly showed Edgar some evidence of corruption either on part of his father or on part of Theodore Weber. In one scenario, it was just further confirmation of Xavier's twistedness; the other scenario showed Xavier as incompetent; Joel wasn't sure which one was worse for Edgar.
So, when Edgar called, Joel was both surprised and relieved. His inner-circle was small these days and he didn't want it to shrink any further. Everyone needed allies.
The sound of Edgar's shoes on the tile made Joel look up from the folders Edgar requested. He nodded towards the bottle of bourbon and its tumblers. "I figured you'd want to pour for yourself," Joel said with a slight smile. He tented his hands on his knees. "So, I figure you have questions. I can try to answer them -- I shouldn't be pulled away for any emergency meetings tonight; Hector's out of town as is."
Joel's discoveries had been the soundtrack of Edgar's mind since he'd revealed them. He'd tried to ignore them, tried to explain them away, but the questions kept coming. Had his father known? Had his father had a hand in what was happening? Edgar's relationship with Xavier had always been complicated, to say the least, and he couldn't fully tell if it would be worse if the man had been oblivious or if he'd been pulling the strings all along. Finally, the knot in his stomach had grown so much that Edgar had been unable to ignore it. So, he'd reached out to Joel.
"Thanks," Edgar said as he took hold of the bottle and poured himself a finger before settling into a chair. "I want you to know," Edgar began with a breath, "that I don't hold this against you. You're one of my best friends and regardless of the outcome of this, I don't see it as your fault. Actually, I'm glad you brought it to my attention instead of ignoring or burying it." That out of the way, Edgar continued with the question that had ping ponged around for the last few days. "How much do you think that my father knew about this and have you found any indications of the purpose for the transfers?"
