Morning Restitution

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Where: Caldecott House

When: June 5, 2012; Morning

What: Despite the fallout the night before, things appear to be a little nearer to normal in the Caldecott house.

Breakfasts in the Caldecott household, can at times be a sparse affair. Given that one parent is a lawyer, the other the mayor of Las Vegas and then there's Zan. It's a rare moment when any combination of the two are in the same room. It's a dash and grab usually. This morning though, James Caldecott is parked at the kitchen table, coffee still steaming in the mug as he studied the news to prepare himself for the day just a little past 7. He's going in late today it seems. The sports section has been reviewed and put to the side, onto local events so that he can make note of what damage control he has to do.

Considering the hour was late when Zan returned home, he's up early. Not just up, but showered and dressed. And as unusual as that might be, he's well dressed, though not in the suit and tie ensemble his dad favors he could pass for business casual today. There's an obvious pause just after a couple of steps onto the kitchen floor, a sidelong look at the elder Caldecott sitting at the table. He refrains from impulse to turn and leave this time, instead pulling a couple of folded sheets of paper from his back pocket. Without so much as smoothing them, they're dropped onto the table in passing, near enough that his dad would be able to take and read over them.

Which seems to be the boy's intention. He doesn't linger expectantly, but moves on to fetch a bowl, spoon, and cereal to breakfast with.

The papers are looked at, while the newspaper is folded and put away in favor of what seems to be the book lists, course listings and the like, for his son's summer term. Reading glasses sit low on his nose and he looks down at them, giving them the same scrutiny that he gave the local news. "You'll need the card then."

"Yeah." It's a simple, one word answer that doesn't even merit a look up from pouring out a helping of Fruit Loops. Zan sets the cereal aside in favor of adding milk to the bowl before speaking again. "I decided not to take the summer off. Semester starts in a few days." He leans against the counter with his bowl balanced in front of him. His spoon stabs at the multi colored O's floating within. "Cleared that footage off my computer, too."

"Idle hands are the devil’s playthings. It'll be good for you." The summer school. It goes without saying that so is deleting the footage. "Did you really, or are you just saying it to appease me, Alexander?" The mayor looks over from the paperwork and lists to actually look at his son.

"You want to go check," Zan asks almost defensively, gaze lifting from his bowl to return the look. "Or can you actually take my word for it for once? I deleted all of it when I got home, before I registered for classes."

"Forgive me if your track record leaves something to be desired at times, or have we forgotten the whole memory chip for the police?"

But he'll drop that, like he does the papers as Caldecott reaches for his wallet, pulling it out so he can flick through it and pull out the plastic card that Zan will need later.

"I'm seriously as well, about leaving Gordon Crain Alone. I'll deal with him."

"I fixed that problem," Zan mutters around a mouthful of cereal. He swallows a second spoonful before continuing. "Does my track record account for you spying on me, too?" He pushes the O's around his bowl again, glancing up at his dad. "I'm making no promises about Mister Crain. If he so much as blinks perversely in Rylie's presence, I'll forget I'm a gentleman and show him what it's like up forty miles above ground."

"You'll avoid him, at all costs, Alexander, and you'll obey me in this. He's not a man you want to mess with. You thought that he knew about the kidnapping, then odds were that he knows." Caldecott frowns at his son. "The man who was taken alongside you, he sent him in to try and get you out. I knew there was a raid happening, I asked a favor, he sent in the head of his security to try and get you out, so that you wouldn't get arrested. So, I'd let him have that one leer at Rylie, Alexander, because without him, the whole lot of you, would likely have not made it out alive.”

Zan frowns as well, though it's at his breakfast. Angry at the Fruit Loops as though they were at fault for his dad's statement. "He had his one leer, Dad," he points out. "He's not getting another one. And without him, we may have done alright. The man you're talking about told me he was hired by you to babysit me. The hell's that all about? Why would I have been arrested when I was one of the three kidnapped?"

"If you hadn't been kidnapped, you would have been arrested. I had nothing to do with the kidnapping. In the least. I had only pulled favors with the Crains to get you out of there." And then, there had been the kidnapping. Which leaves him angry at his own self. That and wishing he could take both Rylie and Zan and lock them up in a room where the underbelly of the city can't touch them.

There's definite anger directed at his breakfast now. Enough so that Zan crosses to the sink and dumps the remainder down the disposal, and runs enough water to rinse both bowl and sink before the latter is left in the basin. It's still a moment before he's schooled himself, set anger aside, and turns to face his dad again. His arms fold over his chest, defensive in spite of himself. "Thanks," he allows quietly, "but I'm still not going to stand by and watch if Mister Crain gets all pervy-friendly with my girlfriend."

"I am sure, that if he gets… pervy-friendly, with Rylie, that she'll introduce his groin to her knee. She's a capable young woman and I hired her for that reason." Despite what the general rumor mill has as the reason. "Just don't cross him Alexander. You won't like it."

"I know she is," Zan responds. He approaches the table to collect his papers and his dad's card. "Make sure he gets the same warning." Once both are acquired and tucked safely away in his pocket, he takes a step back. "I'm going to look for a job, too. And no, school isn't going to suffer for it. I'm still going to become a screenwriter."

"Long as you finish, is what I care. You can become whatever you want, just so long as you graduate with a degree in your hand to fall back on if things don't pan out." A backup plan. There's no comment about warning off Gordon. Theirs is not that kind of relationship. "You have a good today. Don't forget to call your mother, let her know your schedule."

It's an odd look Zan gives his dad, with brows indecisive about whether to raise or pinch together. "Giving up on telling me to choose a real course of study," he asks. It's like poking a flame to see if this time it'll burn. Though he's disinclined to wait too long for an answer, and instead turns with the dismissal to go back to his room to gather his things. "You two don't need to keep tabs on me so much," is called over his shoulder in a long suffering way, "I'm not a kid anymore."

"You're always our kid, Alexander. You should know this by now." He too is getting up, gathering his paper and cup of coffee to head off towards where the front door roughly lays with the buzz of his phone. His ride is here.


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