cottoncandypink | (no subject)

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tess mercer

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Sometimes Wilford isn't really sure why he makes some of the decisions he does. There's the obvious answer, of course, which is that there is something fundamentally wrong with him. But he's already responsible for a couple of aliens squatting on his planet. He threw a party with a whole bunch of them. He's indirectly got another one killed right outside his restaurant. He might as well just go all in and consider hiring one.

Wait, no. He's done that already too. By that logic, there's absolutely nothing wrong with hanging around the bar, waiting to open the door back to the studio. In the mean time, he's enjoying a few child-free moments outside the workplace with his first cigarette in days.

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"I'm not paying the bill if you run over someone's cat," Wilford says. Because this is clearly the important point to be made.

"Trust me, I'm not running over anyone's anything."

He's got his speed down better than that.

"But that's fair. I'll pay anything that comes up."

Wilford nods, watching his dog act like a damn fool.

"Which brings up another point. You're not supposed to be here. Nobody's going to notice if you don't say anything. It'll probably get out around here, but people know not to talk. Morons out on the street are probably gonna fuck with you, but I've been told you can handle yourself."

He sure hopes Tess mentioned this part.

"I am the darkness. Got it."

Tess lectured him about a lot, it's hard to keep track.

"I'm guessing in handling myself I shouldn't break anything."

Like buildings.

Wilford seriously thinks about this. "Nothing bigger than like, a drive-thru," he says finally.

Is that a sane, rational thing for a human being to say?

It is in Conner's life.

"I'll try to keep it to nothing."

He has Tess' lectures to worry about, too.

Wilford nods. That's good enough for him.

"Hey, dingbat. We're walking here," he says. Buster looks up and suddenly scoots out of the way, though he doesn't seem very happy about it. With the way clear of any potential tripping hazards, Wilford continues to lead the way down the hall. He points out various recording booths, dressing rooms, and offices, before pausing in front of another closed door. "Nick's office. If the door's closed, bring it to me or Bill. You do not want to piss that woman off."

He leads Conner into the bullpen — a huge, open room cluttered with desks and noisy staff all at various degrees of productive. "You'll want to spend a lot of time in here. These folks will help you get around town, tell you what you need to do. All that stuff."

Conner follows, nodding as Wilford points things out.

"I'm good at not pissing women off."

It was a struggle to get there.

The bullpen atmosphere is somewhat familiar. He's been at the Daily Planet a few times, but it's not something he's overly used to.

"Right. Bullpen is key."

"We're not the six o'clock news here," Wilford says. "You will hear some shit that you won't want to hear. You'll see some shit that will make your blood boil. We have guests that deserve the fucking chair. If you can't handle that, you don't come to work that day. As long as you're available, I don't care what you do in your down time. If you want to go down to the beach and do a bunch of blow with some lot lizards, you just better be able to get back quickly if someone needs something."

He looks over his kingdom of chaos. It's not much, but it's his.

"You got any questions for me?"

That's going to be hard. Seeing people not get what they deserve. Exposure is all well and good, but he's the maintainer of Truth, Justice and other stuff.

"I think I'm good."

Though lot lizards? That one went over his head.

"I'll ask questions as I go, that okay?"

"You better ask questions," Wilford says.

There are few things worse than someone who fucks up because they didn't bother to ask how not to fuck up.

"You want to go sign some papers?"

Oh, he knows how to ask questions.

"Yeah, about that. I don't really have any ID I can use."

"We'll get you set up," Wilford says, leading the way back to his dressing room. "We'll get you a phone as well, since yours won't work here. You'll probably want to spend a day or two getting to know the city."

It may not be Los Angeles, but it's definitely like Los Angeles in all the important ways. Particularly the part where you can drive for two hours and still be in the city.

"That'd be great."

A couple of days in a new city sounds pretty good. Metropolis was nice and all, when Tess wasn't keeping him in a lab, and San Francisco's cool. But new places can be awesome to run around in.

Wilford takes them back to his dressing room, motioning toward the empty seat in front of his desk. He shoves the over-sized monitor whose main purpose is to act as a barrier when he doesn't want to talk to people, and pulls out some papers from a filing cabinet.

"We start at sixteen, plus mileage. You're responsible for tracking your hours. You're an adult, so nobody's going to be checking all your sheets, but it will be noticed if you're making shit up."

He thumbs through the small packet he pulls out, making sure it's the right set of forms. It looks like everything's in order, so he hands them over, along with a pen from a cup on his desk.

"Things are different here. I'm sure Tess told you that much, but you'll figure out the rest on your own pretty quickly."

"Sounds fair."

He won't be making shit up. The Kent part of his make-up won't let him. He takes the pen and the forms and starts to write.

"Right. Name."

This is going to take a moment.

"Don't steal my pen," Wilford says, probably jokingly, as he heads out the door. He leaves Conner alone for the few minutes it takes him to hunt down the studio's tech dungeon troll. Since Wilford personally handles the majority of the hiring, there's nothing at all out of the ordinary about him coming in to pick up a fresh ID card and a phone. They've always got extra phones and SIM cards on hand, and it's quick work for the tech troll to get everything set up for him.

When he comes back, it's with an RFID card and a phone. It's not exactly the most recent iPhone, only because it's a couple versions behind. But as long as it can text, call, and load a few key apps, it's good enough.

"This gets you in the building," he says, putting the card down on the desk. "You lose it, you're fired. No warnings."

He puts the phone down as well. That probably doesn't need an explanation, unless Tess keeps the kid locked in a box.

The forms filled out to the best of his ability, Conner smiles up at Wilford when he returns. He listens carefully and puts the badge in his jacket pocket.

"I won't lose it."

The phone he knows. Of course he has one at home, because how else is Tess going to keep track of him?

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