champagne coast

Steps slowed as she approached her building, surprised to see the figure waiting outside of it. It wasn't part of their arrangement to show up like this, she'd waited patiently for the right time to see him after Sebastian, after all. First instinct was to bristle at his presence, wondering if he thoughts so little of her that he didn't believe that she could handle another crisis without falling apart. But then something close to gratefulness was felt, relief that maybe she didn't have to be alone when Harry's brush with death was impacting her more than she was used to. The bond between the two of them from years of friendship serving as a chink in her carefully crafted armour that those who had set the fires had managed to exploit. Actually wounding her and reminding her that the walls she'd built up weren't impenetrable after all. "I'm not really." Well, she'd thought she wasn't but as they stood there she realised that she didn't feel the same way about the idea of his company. "I hope you haven't been waiting long." Smooth steps carrying her inside just enough that he could follow, wordlessly inviting him inside. "I was thinking of ordering something." Though for once in her life she found herself unable to make a decision on what, too emotionally exhausted to even contemplate a choice.

He felt a slight pang of disappointment initially, though he was careful not to let it show on his face, instead offering a simple nod to let her know that he understood -- and he did, really. In a way, though being a public figure, a politician no less, meant that dealing with his feelings in solitude was an occasion that occurred few and far between -- but really, at this point, his sense of sense had become so intertwined with his career that it was hard to tell what the real reason for that truly was. "No, not long at all." Fifteen minutes give or take -- a lifetime when it came to the amount of people constantly trying to get a hold of him, how much he could and often did get done in that amount of time, but that didn't matter to him right now. What mattered was the way Imani breezed past him, keeping the door open instead of sending him on his merry way. Teeth captured the inside of his cheek lightly, taking the invitation for what it was instead of questioning it for too long. "Are you a sushi fan?" Wes closed the door behind them, keeping his tone light, easy. "The chef at Nobu owes me a favor. I can have something here in less than an hour." He proposed. "Or -- if you'd like to let me raid your fridge, I can put something together. Can't promise world famous cuisine, but Granny Cordelia made damn sure we all knew how to get around a frying pan."

"I suspect if we had, I would be seeing you somewhere between two to three months." Comes the immediate response, a wry smile as he takes the eldest Hope's presence in his office. Far less aggressive than his younger sister, though he's learned over time to never underestimate a Hope - or their reach. "You're a busy man about town, after all." Harvey agrees, meeting his charming energy with that consummate 'dry English humor.' Wesley, he suspects, is more honey than vinegar when he wants something. "A week ago." He wasn't cleared, per se, but the powers that be made a call. The commissioner needed to be back up to snuff. "Interestingly enough, you are the second Hope to come see me." Harvey begins, gesturing to the seat across from him. "The first, believe it or not, was your sister. In my hospital room, of all places." And he makes it clear from his tone; Gwen was not an invited guest.

"Hey now, I'm sure your calendar could rival my own. With everything going on, I'm sure you're having to pencil in specific times to breath." Harvey had always had the makings of a good politician despite not technically being one himself, his sharp wit and charming grin enough to disarm even the most seasoned of them -- but Wesley had been born into this world, raised and molded by it, and because of that he knew he always needed to make sure peer under the surface of his words. "Glad you seem to be recovering quickly. I remember when I was a teenager, I stupidly grabbed an iron by the metal, thinking it was off and had cooled down -- long story short, that was only a mild burn, and I couldn't believe the pain. I give you a lot of credit for getting back in the swing of things so quickly." He complimented, rounding the chair to sit. Brows arched at the mention of Gwen visiting him in the hospital, mildly surprised but not shocked. Gwen had always been the practical one, she would always try to close the loop. "I see. I hope she was there to apologize for...previous conversations I'd heard about." Hands folded over his lap, sighing lightly. "Do you have experience with grief, Commissioner?" He questioned, adding then, "you don't have to answer that, I'm merely bringing it up because, well -- my siblings and I have been fortunate enough to have not had to experience much tragedy over the years. Until now, of course, and I fear Gwen might have let her emotions over Sebastian spill over." Lips pressed in a tight line, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "I hope the conversation was somewhat productive, at least?"

She grimaced to hear that it had already backfired, Gwen didn't know if she wanted to know. She figured Wes would tell her if he wanted to talk about it. She smiled gently as she was glad that Wes still had his sense of humor in these moments of stress. Gwen straightened a little more in posture as she had shown herself a little more than she had intended. "Well, it was not a horrible conversation." It had also not been a very good nor productive conversation. She'd accused him of a few things along the way, that maybe she didn't want to repeat to Wesley now. "Maybe that would be for the best if you talked to him, though I don't think there is much else he would say that he didn't say to me." Even if her delivery had been intense, she felt like he'd still double down on the fact that he had done everything he could. She shook her head slightly at his question on who was dishing out the criticism. "A little of both, and Harry also decided to tell me that too." It angered her to be criticized, although unfortunately for her, now Harry was injured so some of that anger was faded with concern. "He was at gran's for tea and I tried to talk to him, pull the how it is affecting you and me card. He didn't seem all that apologetic to me."

Wesley let out a slow breath, considering. Obviously if Gwen had gotten fired up enough to confront someone, betraying her normally level-headed self (though, he had no doubt her 'outburst' was most likely decently contained compared to how others might act), there must have been a motive behind it. "What were you trying to get out of it? Seriously, I'm not trying to interrogate you -- I'm curious," he explained, adding then, "I know Harvey Knight can be...well, Harvey Knight. But -- do you actually think he's sitting on something?" Obviously Wesley was in the camp of believing his cousin was innocent, but could the police commissioner really be complicit in this conspiracy? Or was he simply following his team and the mountain of -- what Wesley was sure was -- planted evidence? "Hm." He hated criticism just as much as Gwen did, no matter if it was justified or not, but at the mention of Harry his brow softened. "How is he doing?" Wes had heard about how severe his injuries had been, and knew that his sister must have harbored some concern. "I don't know what's gotten into him. I keep telling myself that this is Maddox's way of grieving, but -- he's flying off the handle these days, and I don't know how to reel him in."

"Yeah he's a whore for attention." unlike himself and Cami, he knew Romeo wouldn't turn down visitors. Even if he didn't want them. The comment that followed next was one Nico found himself relating to, for there was no way he would hold a cup whilst his brother took a sip out of it. It was truly that notion of ask somebody else or die of dehydration. "I'd lay off the whiskey, doesn't need it." it came as a simple comment, yet one based from his opinion of his brother prior to the fire that had broken out. It had been Nico acknowledging for the first time that his brother was more like their mother than he realised. "Can't even use a fucking phone." his add on came with an amused scoff, despite the situation being anything but. He brought his own drink to his lips, "Sure he'd appreciate seeing you," he paused, just for a beat before he pivoted the conversation, "You wanna talk about your own family, Wes? I've got a million fucking problems right now and the last thing I want is your name in the middle of them."

"One of you has gotta be. Otherwise the onus will fall on you or Cami," which Wesley knew wasn't a position either of them wanted to be in. Romeo seemed to have an endless tolerance for the public at least compared to his siblings. Brow arched at the comment about the whiskey. "Yeah?" A simple response, but it left the door open for Nico to say more about the situation if he so pleased. Wesley had been around long enough to understand the family's relationship with alcohol, particularly when it came to their mother. "I'll make sure to swing by this week -- after lunch, maybe, so I don't have to risk having to play 'airplane' with his food." Wesley smirked, but only briefly -- the mention of his own family, causing his lips to waver. He sighed, bringing his glass to his lips. "I'm handling it," the politician assured, brows arched. "Gwen's already come to me groveling -- in her own, very Gwen way," which meant a lot of stoicism and an easy admission of wrongdoing, which was a feat in itself admittedly. "And Maddox -- he's...Maddox. I'll threaten to have a hold put on his trust fund and he'll be right as rain." That was the plan, at least. For now. "We've never had a family tragedy like this. Barely even a death since we were young. He's...grieving. I'll pass."

"So I get lonely. So what? Isn't everyone?" Before Maddox can bite his tongue, before he can recognize he ought to stop there... Well, it has to be said; "Fuck, Wes. You should get it. You're the loneliest man I've ever met." He doesn't mean intimately (although, Maddox might make a point there, too). Rather, he means it philosophically. The emptiness of his home, every other weekend. The vacancy of connection, because perfection wins out. There is a cost to being perfect, untouched, and esteemed; it's the frozen tundra that Wes confines himself in. "And what's worse? You seem perfectly content with it." Isn't that where they will always deviate? One brother happy with the rules, the other pushing against it. Each envying the other's ability to do just that. He leans back, a haughty scoff in return. Wes' read of him is as accurate as his own. For that, Maddox has no response other than one;

"Not everyone makes a show of it like you do, Maddox." It was as if his younger brother had learned nothing after all this time, after years of being taught how to behave in the limelight, the dos and don't of being in the public eye -- sure, even Wes had moments where it all felt like too much, where the costs seemed to outweigh the benefits, but then he looked at his life. All the things he'd gained because of it, the future he'd secured for his kids, the family legacy solidified in the history books. How was it that Maddox couldn't see that? How was it that he seemed to be actively fighting against all that Granny had worked for? Maddox's next dig didn't make it any easier for Wesley to try and find some compassion, some empathy even in the face of the rage he felt. He'd hit a nerve, whether either of them realized it or not. "Just like you're content to sit on your ass and cry wolf from your gold fucking throne in the sky." He tossed back. "If you're gonna try and make yourself a martyr, make sure you take off the Cartier watch first."

       "you're  paying  me  so  it's  not  technically  freeloading..."  but  she  wasn't  going  to  protest  further  as  wesley  settled  into  helping  her  clean  up.  not  only  was  it  his  home  and  a  nice  gesture,  the  company  was  welcomed.  in  a  way  she  could  relate.  fidan  had  also  grown  up  with  a  silver  spoon  in  her  mouth  but  her  parents  had  taught  the  opposite.  the  well  paid  help  was  there  for  a  reason.  she'd  just  always  felt  uncomfortable  with  it.  "oh,"  a  small  laugh  bubbled  up  at  his  question  and  as  she  dipped  a  pot  into  the  hot  water  in  the  sink,  "that's  a  fidan-ism.  most  chefs,  especially  when  working  a  busy  kitchen  in  a  restaurant,  just  cook  and  don't  care  about  any  mess  or  chaos  in  their  wake.  that's  someone  else's  job  to  clean  up."  not  that  she  wasn't  the  same  when  going  through  a  dinner  rush,  but  this  wasn't  that  kind  of  kitchen.  "that's  normal,"  another  small  laugh,  that  time  considering  how  his  kitchen  was  always  in  disarray  after  he  cooked  in  it,  "i  just  might  be  a  little  neurotic  i  guess.  but  it's  also  just  less  overwhelming  when  everything's  done.  because  looking  at  a  massive  cleanup  can  be  a  horror  show."  stepping  aside  from  the  sink,  fidan  collected  the  last  of  the  serving  dishes  and  cleaned  any  leftovers  out.  "i  can  hold  my  own  but  nah  desserts  really  aren't  my  powerhouse.  if  you're  ever  trying  to  impress  someone  give  me  a  call  then...  you  can  really  see  my  magic."  confidence  in  her  abilities  as  a  chef  was  never  doubted,  in  fact  she  knew  exactly  how  great  she  was.  "hey  now,  my  blog  is  already  a  success,  i'd  just  give  anything  to  be  back  in  a  kitchen.  but  ok,  how  about  this...  if  the  stars  align  again  and  i  find  myself  back  in  a  restaurant  then  i'll  give  you  my  secrets  then?  promise."

"Not to be that guy but -- it's a drop in the bucket, Fidan. Besides, I'm sure there are other things you'd rather be doing on a Saturday night other than scrubbing my dishes." Not like he'd dock some of what he owed her just because she was able to get out a bit early. It was also a small way to invite in a sense of normalcy amongst the chaos that had become his life, no matter how mundane it may have seemed. These days, Wes was just trying to look for some sense of peace within those little moments; taking the kids to school, waiting in line for his coffee, chatting with rowdy constituents who didn't give a rat's ass about the Hope family scandals, who cared more about getting things done in the city they knew and loved. "Hey, as far as having something to be neurotic about, at least it's useful. I once knew a guy in Congress who was very peculiar about his coffee -- think it was two sugars, and a quarter-tablespoon of two-percent milk. If one of the staffers got it wrong, he'd know just be looking at the color." He shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips as he thought back to his senate days. Another dish was moved to the drying rack. "Yeah? What kind of magic we talking here? Filet mignon, oysters -- lobster tail?" Not that he even had the time to try and impress someone these days. Sure, there was Imani, but things between them were casual. Even if it maybe felt like a little more than that from time to time. "Of course it is, but 'm talking like -- brand deals, cookbooks, travel show type stuff. Things that'll actually keep you way too busy for the likes of us." He smirked, rinsing soap from the pot he'd just scrubbed. "I get the sense you don't think that's a huge possibility?" Wes wagered, glancing over at her. "At least not any time soon?"

"You could put it on Maddox. Though, knowing him that would just backfire." She said with a small grin, not known for her jokes she was able to be a little less robotic around her family. "How many conversations do you wish went this way where I told you that you were right?" Gwen felt like both of their ambitions intertwined rather than them being at each other's throats. But that being said she had gotten ahead of herself and allowed her cards to show in a way she did not typically do. Grief had allowed that. She realized to late that Wesley was perhaps not talking about Harvey. "Oh...I thought that was who you were talking about. Who were you talking about then?" Gwen couldn't think of anyone else that she had been potentially abrasive with. She felt like for so long they had worked and were in-step with one another that this was the first time that really they had not been otherwise since they were kids. She gave a nod of agreement as she was very much in agreement. His update wasn't all that optimistic, in due time they could find out more, but for now she felt like there was nothing gained from either of their methods. "Of course I heard, I was also lectured by several people that somehow this is our doing, because somehow we are to lenient with him." It was ludicrous for anyone to say, it was as if she was both not able to control him because he was an adult or he should be controlled because she was allowing him to run amok.

A sad chuckle left his lips -- as usual, she was spot on with that one. "Believe me, it already has." Backfire, that is, the last conversation he had with Maddox ending in what felt like fire and brimstone, both of them saying incredibly hurtful things to one another. "All of them, obviously, but I know how to be grateful for the few 'you're rights' I do get." Though, he didn't really have a need to hear it much considering how in sync he and Gwen tended to be these days. "I'd only heard you'd had some intense conversations, not that Harvey Knight was at the receiving end." Something that his staffers had decidedly not informed him of, presumably because they didn't want to deal with his reaction. Not that Wesley had given anyone a reason to be scared of him -- no, it was more likely the weight of his family's legacy, his position in the government had paved the way for a barrage of yes men, people who only told him things he wanted to hear. Which was entirely not useful to him whatsoever. "I suppose I can go talk to him, clear the air. Make sure he knows he has our support while we continue to work in the background." Saving face was paramount, especially now, something that Maddox didn't seem to understand. Brows narrowed, jaw set. "Several people, meaning...the Mob? Family?" He wanted to know exactly who was sowing these seeds of doubt. "Have you gotten a chance to talk to him yet?"

"That we do." Henri had to give it to his wife. She had curated quite the collection for them and though he wouldn't admit it, introduced him to labels he had never heard of. There was a part of him that didn't mind this part. Having a home, expensive bottles and the company of someone important. It made playing the doting husband more of a real life fact than an act. He didn't always feel that way but when he did, he found himself leaning into it a bit more than he'd be willing to admit. "Yeah it's nice to be able to be in my home and not running for my life," he told him with an actual laugh, setting two glasses down as he came back with the Macallan. "I told Sylvie I think we should decline a few party invitations going forward. Seems like no one knows how to do a solid perimeter search these days." He was still upset about the casino months ago. It felt like a personal affront that the Pantheon had been able to get into the casino. It made him feel like they had failed to fortify everything the Harrigans had built and he didn't like that someone could gather information on people so quickly. It was like they were trying to put him out of a job.

Though he liked Henri well enough, he'd never really been able to get a good read on the man -- and he supposed that came from the whirlwind of a marriage that he and his sister had entered into, the time they'd spent together up until now rather limited save some family dinners and events attended in tandem. He knew the basics -- growing up in the Bronx, eldest child, Harvard dropout turned socialite -- and with the resources he had at his disposal he supposed he could have dug deeper. But despite his criminal ties, his high rank within the Mob, Wesley still held onto that notion that he was an honest man, and without any overtly red flags, seeing his sister happy, he figured the rest could come naturally. "I think that's solid plan." He agreed, a wry chuckle falling from his lips. "Told her the same thing myself. Though, maybe she listens to you more than she listens to me -- unless you think the honeymoon phase has passed by now. Then we're both in trouble." Because then there was even less of a chance of reeling that woman in.

Gwen was uncharacteristically tired, she usually could keep going and live off the steam, but with Sebastian leaving this large imprint on the family it was getting harder to ignore. She had been pushy and had known she'd been pushy. She had always been so good at knowing her place, this was very off brand for her. And so when Wesley pointed it out to her, she was not going to argue with him. Gwen gave a small nod of understanding, "I probably should have ran things by you first prior to doing some of the things I've done." She admits as she was unafraid to take accountability for it. Her brow rose at the pissing people off part. "Are you talking about the Police Commissioner? Please, he's a joke anyway. Was there anyone else?" She asks, because if it was more than just him than she'd have more of a problem. "I have had a number of discussions, ones you probably would be a bit more tactful in handling. I just...the women of this family are the figureheads and I want to continue that legacy. But you're correct, I more than likely took it too far." Her older brother was of sound judgement and she could respect what he was saying was not an attempt to put her in her place, but sharing that what she had been doing was working against the greater cause. "Do you have any updates though?"

Wesley let out a sigh, brow softening as Gwen remained as reasonable as ever. "You know you and Maddox got me all amped up for a fight, right? So now I'm a little annoyed I got all this rage and nowhere to put it," he teased, knowing his sister would see right through his words. They'd argued a lot more as kids competing for the top spot in the sibling hierarchy, both of them striving to be the smartest, the most responsible, the most apt to shoulder their family's legacy -- something that ultimately went to Wesley, if not only because he was the first born son. But as they got older, it seemed they both realized they worked better together than against one another, and to this day he considered his sister his closest ally. "He may be a joke, but he's still the Police Commissioner -- and, wait, what do you mean 'am I talking about the Police Commissioner'?" He knew Gwen had been talking with a number of folks about the case, but he hadn't realized Harvey Knight had been one of them. A mental note was made to contact the man and make nice. "I understand, Gwen. Seriously. And I want that for you too, just -- let's work together, okay? Too many times in this organization I see these families going behind each other's backs to get stuff done, and I don't want that for us." The last thing he wanted was their ties to the Mob to affect their relationships to one another. "Nothing substantial. A few leads, but...I'm working on it." Not the desired response, he was sure. A sigh left him then. "You heard about Maddox getting suspended?"

There are exactly three people Maddox regrets giving a key to his penthouse to; an ex-boyfriend who proceeded to trash his shoe collection, his grandmother who once came in to rid him of all his party drugs, and now Wesley. The sanctimonious and perfect 'big brother' who arrives fresh from Maddox's dismissal. How long before his allies in the government laddered up his suspension from the AG's office to him? Sighing, he's already pouring himself a whiskey in between Wes' advice.

The scoff that drops from his lips was surely all too familiar to Maddox, the eldest Hope never making his dissatisfaction with his siblings known both in his words and his mannerisms. They were, perhaps, the only people in all of New York City that Wesley couldn't entirely hide his emotions from, all of them familiar enough with the walls he put up that they knew exactly where those cracks appeared -- and how to make them bigger. "Oh, because mouthing off to anyone who has two ears is a better way? Please, Maddox, please enlighten me with the wisdom that's been imparted on you over the last few weeks of you fucking around in bars and clubs across Manhattan?" An overly judgmental observation, but Wesley had attempted to keep his opinions to himself through all of this, knowing how much they were all grieving. How they dealt with that grief in different ways. But when it came to pointing fingers, well, he knew how to do that just as well as Maddox did.

Location: Sylvie & Henri's House Starter for @wesleyhope

As the eldest of the Hope siblings, Wesley had always been expected to be the responsible one. The one positioned to usher their family to greatness once their elders had passed, to serve as a good influence, a formidable leader who'd be remembered amongst the long line of patriarchs before and after him. A role he'd worn with pride from the moment he understood its weight, it's importance. Joining up with the Mob had been a strategic move, one meant to alleviate some of that pressure with all the new resources at their disposal -- but now? With a dead cousin, the Hope's reputation on the verge of being tarnished, danger inching closer and closer with each event ending in shamble? Safe to say that Wesley was having a difficult time, overworking himself with no end in sight. So, while he initially considered declining his brother-in-law's invitation, citing that there was far too much going on, he quickly reconsidered, figuring it might be nice to disconnect and recharge. Though they weren't exactly close, Wesley liked the man enough, figuring he was a good enough influence on Sylvie -- or, at least, not as bad as former partners she'd bring around to dinner.

       it  wasn't  a  professional  kitchen  but  it  was  a  kitchen,  and  she  had  the  privilege  to  cook  for  someone.  ever  since  wesley's  offer  and  the  amount  of  times  she'd  made  meals  for  him  and  his  children  fidan  had  begun  to  consider  if  she  had  made  all  the  wrong  moves  post  downfall.  there  was  a  market  out  there  for  private  chefs.  especially  one  as  well  accoladed  as  she.  so  why  had  she  not  considered  it?  instead  she'd  let  shame  and  heartbreak  swallow  her.  dark  eyes  peered  at  wesley's  hands  for  a  moment  as  he  put  on  gloves,  a  clear  indication  of  his  intentions,  and  fidan  gave  a  small  shake  of  her  head.  "i've  got  it.  you  don't  need  to  clean  up.  go  be  with  your  kids.  i  do  a  lot  of  clean  up  as  i  go  anyway,  it's  no  big  deal."  the  quiet  offer  and  the  manners  put  a  small  smile  on  her  face  regardless.  then  she  laughed,  hand  to  chest  and  head  shaking...  was  it  humor  or  horror?  a  mix  of  both?  "imagine  where  i'd  be  in  my  life  right  now  if  i  could  do  cake  boss  level  desserts."  she  probably  wouldn't  be  writing  reviews  on  other  people's  work.  "but  i  can't  give  away  my  secrets,  wes,  its  shameful  you  even  asked."  a  little  smirk  glanced  his  way  as  she  put  an  empty  dish  in  the  sink.

"Nuh uh, Granny Cordelia didn't raise us to be freeloaders." Wesley remarked, paying no mind to Fidan's protests. Growing up with a silver spoon afforded the male many luxuries, and his grandmother had always reminded them that 'with great privilege came greater responsibility' -- probably more of a useful soundbite than an actual lesson, but regardless he'd somehow taken it to heart. "The whole 'cleaning as you go' thing; do they teach you that in culinary school or is that more of a Fidan-ism? 'Cause I've never been able to get the hang of it, I always start out strong and then by the end it's like a damn tornado went through the kitchen." He chuckled, turning the faucet on as he got to work on the few dishes piled up in the sink. "Missed calling you think?" Brow arched. "Hey, that's not fair. What happens when your blog blows up and you get too busy for us? Help a poor, single dad out here."