Damien Moreau (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leveraged_buyout) wrote2017-01-21 03:01 am
leveraged_buyout) wrote2017-01-21 03:01 am
First Sight
Lucien Moreau wasn't in town often, and that was the way Damien liked it. The less he saw the man who sired him the better, and even when the household was full of his spies who undoubtedly reported every little detail back to the old geezer, at least Damien didn't have to see him.
But if old Moreau arrived back on an early flight and summoned for his presence, as much as Damien didn't want to, he obeyed those summons. It didn't matter that he was still abed when the butler delivered them 15 minutes ago, his father demanded to see him and Damien obeyed.
It was only down the hall and into Moreau senior's private studies, but it still felt like it was going into another world. Damien's loafers clicked loudly on the tiles as he walked down the long hall of the west wing, the original section of the mansion that he normally avoided altogether. This was the old man's wing, a part of the ancient mansion that was inherited down generations, unlike the newer east and south wings which were added only shortly before Damien was born.
Dressed up presentably in a three piece suit, hair quickly slicked back to battle the his bedhead, Damien knocked on the large study doors and waited to be admitted. He covered his yawn with a fist as he waited, mind still blanked by the early morning to ponder the reason for the meeting.
But if old Moreau arrived back on an early flight and summoned for his presence, as much as Damien didn't want to, he obeyed those summons. It didn't matter that he was still abed when the butler delivered them 15 minutes ago, his father demanded to see him and Damien obeyed.
It was only down the hall and into Moreau senior's private studies, but it still felt like it was going into another world. Damien's loafers clicked loudly on the tiles as he walked down the long hall of the west wing, the original section of the mansion that he normally avoided altogether. This was the old man's wing, a part of the ancient mansion that was inherited down generations, unlike the newer east and south wings which were added only shortly before Damien was born.
Dressed up presentably in a three piece suit, hair quickly slicked back to battle the his bedhead, Damien knocked on the large study doors and waited to be admitted. He covered his yawn with a fist as he waited, mind still blanked by the early morning to ponder the reason for the meeting.
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The declaration left Damien speechless and it created another pause before the younger Moreau could formulate his thoughts. "The old man will not let that slide easily." But Damien liked the idea. This was the first step towards fighting his father.
"You would do that?" Thus far Damien had been alone, perhaps with a few older hands who was sympathetic, but they were his father's people. They knew who paid the bills and who was in charge, even if Damien was the one they saw.
"Some of the staff have been here since before I was born, you won't be able to remove them." And perhaps there were a few that Damien wouldn't want to see them go from purely nostalgia.
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"Sure as hell would. I was hired t'keep you safe and that's exactly what I plan on doing." Even if it means keeping him safe from the backstabbing bastard who'd hired him.
"Not gonna be able to or you don't want to?" he asks, curious rather than accusatory. "'Cause if you think they're loyal to you then it's all good."
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Damien was reluctant to admit it was in part that he didn't want to. It sounded sentimental if he said it, but some of them had watched him grow up, certainly more than his old man did. "They're not, but staffing is out of your hands. You may handle security, Spencer, but household staff is handled by Morrison." That was the ancient household butler, the man was older than his father. "Staffing goes to him."
Damien knew Spencer was upset, but this was his first time dealing with the old man. Growing up under his shadow, Damien was not particularly shocked by the turn of events. Incredibly upset by it, shaken perhaps, but not terribly surprised. He wondered if this was Spencer speaking impulsively following the whole situation.
"You are to keep me safe... You would do that even when it's against him?"
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"I was hired t'do a job, an' I'm not gonna lie and say I ain't pissed the hell off at the bastard for hiring me then putting me in the line of fire for his pretty damn pathetic lackeys. Seriously, man needs higher damn standards for this kinda work." He does, in fact, sound almost as offended at how incompetent he'd found Damien's would-be kidnappers as he is by the fact his employer had sent them. "But unless and until I'm fired, you're the job."
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"I'm not a job," Damien huffed, but he was oddly pleased by the reassuring conviction he heard in Spencer's answer. It was strange, but his view on the younger man was slowly changing. Now Spencer was no longer merely an annoying redneck, he was still both annoying and incredibly unciviled, but possibly he could be considered Damien's ally.
"Go ahead and talk to Morrison. You probably can't get rid of the older hands, but feel free to switch out the others. It's time we got a new gardener anyway... He's messing up the rose bushes." Damien smirked and at this turn events. In the bad news he gotten today, knowing he do found a new ally was a spot of light to brighten his day.
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"Gottit, boss. The gardener definitely goes." And while Damien might not be able to see his face, there is definitely a smirk in his voice. "I'll have a report for you by tonight, on who needs t'be let go an' who's stayin' on, and the remaining security upgrades we need t'finish off. Oh, and the cameras are already in your hall." Yep, definitely a smirk in his voice. He might be an ally, but he's still a redneck... and kind of an asshole.