#simthur

@youngpendragon

Simba was leaving tomorrow morning for New York City, where he would be receiving an award for Mufasa which his father had earned posthumously for the preservation of several historical Magicks Rights landmarks that he had worked to ensure turned into landmarks instead of being abolished or used as part of New York’s gentrification movement.

He had been staring at the blank piece of paper on which he was supposed to write his speech for hours. He had moved from his office down into one of the empty conference rooms on the forth floor, where he could pace around and around the table better, watching people walk back and forth through the big windows that opened up into office space. 

Simba had pulled several people into the office at this point to help write it, but no one had any ideas that he liked--and he wasn’t going to ask Nala, because she would have idea he would like. She could write an excellent speech for his father, but he didn’t want anyone else to do it. 

He needed to.

Simba was just starting to head back to his office, gathering up all his stuff and heading towards the elevator when he saw Arthur across the way, locking up for the evening. Ah! Someone he hadn’t asked yet. Arthur was settling in quite nicely in the Marketing department, which seemed to be the best fit, since Simba and him had discussed imaging for the company. Arthur’s family had overcome their share of scandals over the hundreds of years, surely he could give the market team a little bit of a nudge in the right direction. It was temporary, perhaps, when he thought he’d done his fill there, they would move him somewhere else, if he wanted to stay on.

“Oi! Arthur! You’ve got any plans for tonight?” he asked as they converged to both head towards the elevators.