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Where: Caldecott Home

When: June 4, 2012

What: The Mayor asks the hardhitting questions.

No, work hadn't followed the Mayor home, nor rushed off ahead to meet him. But there is a familiar car, predictable these days, sitting in the driveway. Strange, though, given it's nearing supper time and there doesn't appear to be activity implying departure any time soon.

Since Rylie and Zan have vanished into his room almost immediately following her arrival. The door to the younger Caldecott's room is cracked open. Murmuring sometimes escapes, followed by silence or sometimes chuckling.

Within, the two are viewing the footage from their last trip to the desert. Zan has fixed an audio track to some of the clips, adding witty vocals to the otherwise silent footage.

The mayor watches, from this crack, observing the presence of his personal assistant, in the close proximity to his son. Though the line to his lips may be thin, he's not unhappy. Just observing. Closely. Quietly.

"This is much better than the youtube clip," Rylie says, her tone a gentle tease. As much as it was a spot of bad luck, someone else being around to notice him flying around, what's done is done and sometimes the only way to deal with it is to laugh about it.

Still in her work clothes, even, Rylie's perched on the edge of his bed, legs folded off to one side. Her hair's down, though, that much proving that she's off duty, so to speak.

"Oh man," Zan groans, though it's an amused sound. Sitting on the floor just in front of the bed, and in front of Rylie, he tips his head back with an exaggerated wince. "I still can't believe someone else caught that. I ought to come up with a way to make it seem hoaxy."

Tipping his head forward again, he leans forward to skip through to his fantastic landing. He's dubbed in Night on Bald Mountain to go with the rapid and uncontrolled descent, the sputtering and eventual loss of ability, and inevitable crash landing.

"what do you mean, this is better than the /youtube clip" Comes Caldecott's voice from the door as he pushes it open more, that line of his mouth now meaning that he's angry. Or getting angry.

"I think you have natural disbelief on your side, really." Rylie straightens up to clap at the landing, complete with an amused laugh. "You'll never top tha— "

She cuts off when the Mayor enters and presses her lips together or a moment. "It's no big deal, just someone out camping thought Zan was a UFO. Most of the comments are insulting the bad effects work anyway." Oh, internet commenters. Never satisfied.

Zan looks over his shoulder as the music begins playing, a grin forming. His dad's voice from behind interrupts that, and while he doesn't quite startle, he does turn a little quickly to look at the door. "You can't even see that it's a person," he adds to Rylie's explanation.

He closes the program running the video, a small frown setting a furrow to his brow. Then, sitting back again, he slides into place beside Rylie rather than in front of her. "Wasn't like I paid some random stranger in the middle of nowhere to film me. Besides, it's pretty much determined to be a hoax."

"I'd rather that you hadn't filmed it at all. All it takes is for someone to get their hands on this and then it's all over" Caldecott snaps out, looking towards the computer then to the two of them. "I want it destroyed" Finality in his words, one hand in a fist, the other pressed against his suited pant leg. "For the safety of both of you"

"It was just so he could see how his power looks, is all," Rylie starts, her shoulder lifting as she gives Caldecott the Elder an easy smile, "No problem getting rid of it." Her hand moves to rest on Zan's shoulder, giving him a little squeeze. "He can't see his own glow, see. And I think we'll have to go a bit deeper into the desert from now on."

Her hand drops back to her lap, though, a frown coming to her face. "It looks like people can find out things without there being a tape, though." She glances over to Zan, eyebrows lifting for a moment before she looks toward the Mayor again. "I think Gordon knows about the kidnapping. About Zan and I, I mean."

"What," Zan asks, incredulous. "You think we'd be any safer—" The remainder is bitten off with that touch to his shoulder, and his gaze retreats from his father to the computer. Though argument remains in his expression and posture. No plans on deleting the footage from him so soon. If ever.

He glances toward Rylie when she brings up that concern. He reaches over to take up her hand, casting a glance toward the elder Caldecott. "He said as much at the barbecue, without actually saying anything."

Caldecott would answer, that thing about Gordon Crain, if he wasn't so obviously staring at the hand that Zan was taking, holding.

"Politics, you know," Rylie says toward Zan with a shake of her head, "Social politics. Can't ever say anything direct, just sort of mosey around it." It might make it a little worse that she doesn't seem to mind him taking her hand, and in fact, she gives him a squeeze back. But when Rylie looks up at the Mayor, she blinks and brings her free hand up to her chest. "I didn't tell him. Or Zan. I don't know how he knows, he just knows."

"Something like that," Zan agrees, nodding. "Either he knows something, or wants us to think he knows. Either way, I don't like him knowing." His chin comes up a little while his dad stares, brows lifting a touch. "How does he know, Dad?"

"I don't like him knowing a great many things, but that doesn't solve the issue that he might know. what did he say exactly?" Caldecott looks away from the hand holding, drawing his hand up to the bridge of his nose and rubbing forefinger and thumb against it. What a mess. What a god damned mess.

"Please tell me you are using protection"

Rylie would answer. She really would. But those last words shock her enough to shift her concerns entirely.

"Oh my god, James, for real?" Her hand reaches her face as well, to draw down it in an expression of exasperation. At least this time, it is a bit more his business. His son and all. "We haven't slept together. It's called dating." Gawd. "And have you seen this figure? Do you think I'm ready to ruin it?" Sure, that's not the depth of her reasons, but it is the first one to pop out of her mouth.

"What?" Of all things Zan could vocalize, that single word comes out in utter deadpan. Of all things that could be asked now. "You're more concerned with that than… Jeez, Dad." He shakes his head and glances an apology to Rylie. "Not that it's any of your business, but we haven't done anything. Instead of being worried that I'm going to make some heinous mistake and completely fudge up your career, maybe you could be supportive or …hell, even happy for once."

"You're my secretary! She is my secretary" This was not at all what he had imagined when he'd told Rylie to go help out his son. He shakes his head then, jabbing a finger at the screen. "Delete it. He's seen his glow. Get rid of it before it gets into the wrong hands. I'll deal with… Gordon Crain" The look on Caldecott's face means that he knows something. "He won't be an issue. Just let me deal with it okay" That's not a question. He sinks his hands into his pockets, looking between the two of them. This isn't cool in his books.

"Personal assistant," Rylie corrects by rote rather than actual offense. But she stands up, hands brushing down her pencil skirt briefly before she looks over at her boss. "Alright. You'll deal with it," she says, by way of agreement, if unhappily so. "I think I'd better jet," is said more to the room at large before she looks over at Zan with a half-smile. "I'll see you later."

The Mayor, on the other hand, gets a salute before she starts to step around him and toward the door.

That argument returns in full force, but it's held inside, shown only as a dark look that Zan directs at the elder Caldecott. He stands when Rylie does, reaching past his dad to open the door for her. "I'll take care of it later," he states tersely, quietly when he passes by the mayor. He doesn't wait for a response, but accompanies Rylie out.

It's times like this when Rylie really needs to drive, and given that she beelines right for the car, it seems like that is her intention at the moment. She can't hop over the door in her outfit, so she actually has to open the driver's side to get in. But before she starts up, she looks over at him, her head nodding him in. "Got this feeling you want to be around less than I do."

Zan actually followed as far as the driveway, though kept himself back, watching with hands jammed into his pockets while Rylie prepared to leave. After that, he can't blame her for wanting to get away as fast as possible. He's almost surprised by the invitation, giving no backward glance but stepping around to the passenger's side and climbing in himself.

Once he's in, she leans over to press a kiss to his cheek, as if trying to prove she's not upset with him. But it's shortly thereafter that she pulls out of the driveway to start off toward the highway. "Sorry about that," she says, eventually, "He keeps a close eye on my… habits. I don't think he much approves of me going near his son. Like that."

A turn toward her as she leans in has Zan fitting a kiss on her lips rather than taking one on his cheek. It's as much apology as it is brief offer of comfort. Once the car is moving, he leans back in his seat, turning slightly to watch the few houses and open landscape pass by. He looks at her when she speaks again, though, concerned. "Think it's more the other way around," he replies. "He has no concern for what I do as long as it doesn't affect him. Why is he worried about your habits anyway?"

"Paranoia," Rylie says simply. "I always thought he was overreacting, but this thing with Gordon acting so weird, he might just have been right." Once she settles onto the highway, and into a higher speed, she looks over at him with a playful smile. "Maybe we should hang out at my place more, huh?"

"Probably," Zan agrees, mustering a slight grin. He rubs a hand over his face, ending with resting his forehead against the palm of his hand. "Unless you want to deal with that again. Or worse." Because mom will probably get involved next time. "I'm sorry about that, Rylie. My dad being… I meant when I said I didn't care what he thought, but it was selfish to not consider how you felt too."

"Oh, it's fine. I don't care, either. It'll probably make work interesting for a while, but he'll get over it." Rylie seems to actually believe that, too. "It's probably all ridiculously complicated from his point of view, but I think it's as simple as me liking you and you liking me."

He tries for another smile, one corner tugging upward though it doesn't encompass his expression. Zan's head comes off his hand, fingers raking back through his hair, before offering the other to her to hold onto. He's quiet for a time, watching the shoulder of the highway keep a constant line of approach that moves past the car. "Maybe it's time to get a job and move out," he says finally, as though thinking aloud.

Rylie takes that hand and gives him an encouraging squeeze. "I that's what you want to do," Rylie says with a glance over at him, "It can be done." She might not have had to do it the hard way, but she did manage it. "This is Vegas, after all, there's always something to do around here. Make the magic happen, all that."

All those arguments seem ready to present themselves, though, even after Rylie's offered support. Zan ends up shrugging, trying to brush off his frustration rather than stew in it. "Where are we going anyway," he asks, changing the subject entirely and looking from her to the scenery and back again.

Glancing over his way, Rylie's smile turns crooked. Knowing, maybe. "Oh, no idea," she says, to answer his question, "I'll know when we get there. Or run out of gas, whichever comes first." She looks over at him, her smile wider. "You have a destination you want to see? LA is only four hours away. We could be back by morning!"

That makes Zan smile. And shake his head. "No where particular, but do we have to go back?" His hand tightens around hers and he looks behind, as though expecting someone to be tailing them, or within listening distance. "I could fly us somewhere if we run out of gas and be happy to never go back home," he says as he looks at her again.

"Are you asking me to run away with you?" Rylie teases a little, but her hand tightens around his, too. "Ask me again when you're not pissed of at your dad." Her smiles a little dry there, nudging him a little. "We should stop somewhere and get dinner. Roadside food. Rest stops. Terrible." In the best way, by the sound of it.

"I'm not pissed at my dad," Zan states, sounding a little indignant. Which isn't entirely true, but that's a deep anger. "Food sounds fantastic, though" An easy smile comes with the subject change. He brushes his thumb over the back of her hand, fixing his gaze on the stretch of asphalt that cuts over the desert. Somewhere down the road will be a cheesy little diner with some of the best food known to road travelers.

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