Nights 'Round the Table (13/14)
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen
Movie night was something of a tradition for Gwen and Lance. They tried to arrange four hours of every week where they had no obligations to anything else, so they could sit on Lance’s couch and have time just for themselves. Tonight’s date in was doubly special, because it was the first time they had invited Morgana to join them.
The movie was some French thing that Gwen was fairly sure Morgana had picked out because they had all mentioned they’d liked it, and it wouldn’t require them to focus too heavily on the screen. They’d all settled onto the couch with their fresh popped popcorn and glasses of wine. Morgana was in the middle, in order to emphasize that they were all doing this together.
The movie had been playing for an hour when there was pounding on the door.
“Lance, dude, open up.” Gwen wasn’t sure if she or Lance had it in them to murder Gwaine, but judging from Morgana’s expression, she had no such reservations.
Lance extricated himself from the couch and opened the door. “Go away, it’s date night.” He managed to block Gwaine from entering, but Elena twisted around him until she was half inside the apartment.
“You have to let us in. We’ve just returned from a secret, deadly mission and have news that’s vitally important to the resistance.”
“Elena Godwin?” Morgana said getting up to join Lance at the door. “Are you drunk?”
“No! Well yes, but that’s not important,” Elena informed them.
“We’re spectacularly drunk. Otherwise it would never have occurred to us that the only way to save Merlin would be to break into the Blessed Cafe,” Gwaine said.
“Break in...You didn’t drive tonight did you?” Gwen hoped they hadn’t committed more than one crime tonight.
“Save Merlin? It’s a little late for that, given that he’s already left. Also, get in here before someone calls the police,” Lance said before either of them could answer Gwen, moving aside to let them in.
“This is why I don’t like Berkeley. No one would call the cops in Oakland,” Gwaine said sullenly as he staggered inside. “Also, dear Guinevere, we walked. Didn’t want anyone getting the license plate of the getaway car.” They both looked like they had been cosplaying as cat burglars.
“You walked.” Morgana said, rolling her eyes at them as everyone headed back to the living room. “Elena, are you barefoot?”
“Gwaine didn’t have ninja shoes that would fit me.”
“Ninja.” Gwen realized there was no choice but to be the one person in the room capable of common sense. “You two, sit on the couch and stay there. Lance, grab chairs for the three of us so we can see them while they tell us what must be an interesting story. Morgana, dear, would you mind helping me start a pot of coffee?”
Once in the kitchen, Gwen handed Morgana the coffee carafe, while she grabbed the beans to grind them. “Fill it all the way. It might not sober them up, but I suspect we’re in for a long night and are going to need it.” Morgana did as asked, and once Gwen had the coffeemaker turned on, they went back to the living room to get answers.
“Okay, start talking,” she said as she, Morgana, and Lance took their seats.
“The Blessed cult people are conspiring against you guys, so we had to go get evidence. And we did,” Elena said. She leaned back on the couch in a vain attempt to gain enough leverage to get her hand into her pocket.
“Where would you even get such an idea?” Gwen asked.
"From the news. You know how I’ve only slept with musicians and cultists? I recognized the cultists,” Gwaine said, rolling his eyes like it was obvious.
“What was on the news?” Lance said.
“They’re not a cult,” Morgana said at the same time.
Everyone stopped talking, Elena stopped trying to get whatever it was out of her pocket, and they all just looked at Morgana.
“What? They’re not. People just don’t understand raw food.”
Lance put his hand on her knee for reassurance. “They make all their employees take classes on self-actualization.”
“They all call the owners ‘priestess,’” Gwen added.
“It’s okay,” Elena said, scooting forward on the couch and reaching until she could put her hand on Morgana’s other knee. “It’s still a delicious cult.”
“Now that that’s settled.” Gwaine pulled Elena back onto the couch before she fell off the edge. “I saw some of my exes on video at the protest.”
“Some of your exes?” Morgana asked.
“So, ‘ex’ might be generous, but the point is, I knew that they all work for Blessed now, and none of them would be at a protest unless Morgause and Nimueh told them to be there, because half those guys can’t wipe their asses unless Morgause tells them to and hands them the roll of organically sourced, unbleached, recycled toilet paper,” Gwaine said as he pulled an iPhone out of his pocket.
“Hey, you had it,” Elena said reaching for the phone.
“Yeah, you told me your pockets weren’t real.” he replied with a leer, handing her the phone.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “So, what evidence did you find exactly?”
Elena fiddled with her phone and handed it to Morgana. “You can scroll through and see. They had a whiteboard, with plans on it. Terrible plans, and we have to do something to stop it before they get to stage four.”
The others looked at the pictures. They were fairly clear, considering, and only two of them were inappropriate shots of Gwaine. The evidence was pretty damning. Morgana had obviously recognized the room, given how fast she stood up and handed the phone to Gwen before heading into the kitchen.
“What’s stage four?” Lance asked.
“We don’t know, but if we’re just at stage three, it’s got to be horrible,” Elena responded.
Morgana came back out carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and her Blackberry in the other. “Elena, you will have water and then a cup of coffee, and you will attempt to pass for sober within the next hour. I’m contacting my assistant Aglain to find us a conference room and contact Arthur’s PA. You will be joining me to convince Leon to corral Arthur and to get Arthur to make things up to Merlin, and get him back to Oakland for a second season. If you do not, I will call your father and tell him you have embarked on a criminal career with a professional musician.”
“Gwaine doesn’t count as a bad boyfriend. His stocks have vested,” Elena said, pouting.
“What?” Morgana almost dropped her phone.
“Yeah. I might have at one point been involved in an Internet security company, and am kind of independently wealthy.” Gwaine looked slightly embarrassed that he’d actually confessed to that.
“So, you’re a hacker? Can you mobilize the troops to clean up the mess made of Ambrosia’s reputation?” Morgana asked.
“Oh, do you have a Guy Fawkes mask?” Elena was leering at Gwaine, and Gwen really didn’t want to know why that, of all things, would do it.
“I could probably arrange something.” Gwaine responded, but to which of them, Gwen wasn’t completely sure.
“Make your plans. I’ll drop you off when I take Elena to meet Leon. I need to call in a favor and book an interview for Gaius to tackle these rumors head on. Gwen, Lance, may I impose on you to make sure Gaius is passably sober when it happens?”
“Of course, Morgana. If this works, it’s worth anything.” Gwen answered.
Morgana smiled at her. “I’m really sorry about our date, but I’m going to try to make things right,” she said as she snuck back into the kitchen to make her phone calls.
“Arthur, we need to talk.” Leon’s voice was firm, and he intentionally used Arthur’s first name instead of something more formal so the other man would know that he was addressing him as a friend, not an employee.
Arthur didn’t take the hint. He looked up from the papers strewn across his desk with bleary eyes. “If it’s about The Snake, tell Father I’ve taken care of it. There’s a press release scheduled for this afternoon.”
“It’s not about The Snake,” Leon said, seating himself in one of the chairs on the far side of Arthur’s desk. “I just got back from a meeting with Elena Godwin.” Along with Morgana, although he thought Arthur was best left in the dark about that. Someday, Arthur really was going to have to get over balking at anything his sister thought was important. Morgana might be young still, and a bit rash at times, but she was a smart woman, and often saw things that others missed.
Arthur frowned. “Elena? What sort of meeting? Why wasn’t I invited? Leon, you know how important the Godwins are to my father, both professionally and personally. Anything involving them should have been brought to me immediately.”
“This wasn’t about the Godwins, Arthur,” Leon said somberly. “This meeting was about you.”
“Me?” Arthur’s frown deepened. “Why on earth would you be meeting with Elena about me?”
Leon rested his hands on the desk, a trick he’d learned in public speaking class in college for appearing trustworthy. “We’re worried about you, Arthur. All of your friends are. You haven’t been yourself, lately, and I know you’re upset about how filming A Wizard in the Kitchen affected the staff of Ambrosia.”
Arthur’s face went blank, in that way it did when he was dealing with a particularly difficult client. Or his father. “While I am concerned that the popularity of the show may have contributed in some way to the negative press Ambrosia has been receiving, I don’t feel responsible, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“No,” Leon said carefully, “that’s not what I’m getting at.”
“Good,” Arthur continued, arranging the papers on his desk into (completely random, as far as Leon could tell) neat piles. “Because if anyone’s to blame, it’s Merlin. Er, Chef Emrys. He should have been more upfront about his relationship with Anthony Balinor and considered the problems it might have caused the restaurant.”
“I’m pretty sure Gaius, at least, was aware of Merlin’s parentage,” Leon said. “He is Merlin’s uncle, after all.”
“Yes, well...” Arthur floundered.
“You’ll be happy to know,” Leon pressed on, unwilling to give Arthur the opportunity to come up with further justifications for acting a fool, “that Ms. Godwin discovered the source of the rumors.”
“Source of the rumors?” Arthur asked. “Are you suggesting this was more than the media and public overreacting to a juicy bit of gossip?”
“I’m not suggesting, Arthur,” Leon said. “Elena found evidence. The whole debacle was a smear campaign, spearheaded by the owners of the Blessed Cafe.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair, looking troubled. “Then I am responsible,” he said. “At least partially, if this is about them being upset over not getting offered the show.”
“That does appear to have been a contributing factor,” Leon agreed.
Arthur slapped a hand down on his desk, leaning forward. “We have to fix this,” he said.
“I agree,” Leon said, “which is why I came to see you.”
“We’ll need to set up an interview,” Arthur said. “Something friendly and informal for some of the Ambrosia staff, where they can address the rumors head-on.”
“Already taken care of,” Leon told him. “Your sister pulled some strings, and Gaius has a spot with Katie Couric tomorrow morning. He’s coming in this afternoon so our PR people can brief him on how to handle any tough questions.” The interview had been in the works for several days, and would have gone ahead with or without Arthur’s say-so, but it was a relief to see Arthur really thinking again instead of moping.
Arthur looked surprised, but nodded. “Good. If you’ve talked to my sister, I assume she’s got some ideas about how to best address the spread of misinformation online?”
Leon nodded. “She’s gathered some of her best people to work on exposing the source of the rumors and discrediting Nimueh Linn and Morgause Cornysh.” He left out the part where Morgana’s ‘best people’ were a rather sketchy-looking lot, and seemed to include that guitar player Elena was seeing.
“It sounds like Morgana’s got that in hand, then,” Arthur said, “and, much as it pains me to admit it, she’s far better at handling online communities than I will ever be.” He stopped and gave Leon a stern look. “Don’t ever repeat that.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Leon said.
“The episode with the Ambrosia staff at the Live Local fundraiser is due to air in two weeks,” Arthur continued. “Schedule a meeting for me with the editing staff. I want to make sure that one sends the right message.”
Leon pulled out his iPad. “How about next Tuesday at one?”
“Perfect,” Arthur said. “That’s a good start, but surely you and Elena must have come up with some ideas about what needs to be done or you wouldn’t be here. Talk to me, Leon. What angle am I missing?”
Leon set his iPad on the edge of Arthur’s desk and folded his hands in his lap. “Well,” he said, “there is the matter of Chef Emrys.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, just a fraction. “What about Chef Emrys?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Leon said, “but Chef Emrys has been offered a very prestigious position at a restaurant in New York.”
“Yes,” Arthur said, his voice tight, “I’d heard that.”
Leon had suspected that was the case. Arthur had told him about the blowup over Merlin’s father, and had been all kinds of sulky since, but that was nothing compared to the cloud of gloom he’d become since Merlin left for New York.
“He’s obviously a huge asset to Ambrosia,” Leon continued, “and Gaius, as well as most of the other staff, believe that the recent controversy has contributed significantly to Merlin’s decision to go to New York.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Arthur said. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Someone needs to explain to Chef Emrys that we’ve got the situation well in hand,” Leon said. “That way, he can make his decision based purely on the merits of the two jobs. It also probably wouldn’t hurt if we made a formal offer for a second season of A Wizard in the Kitchen. The critics are impressed with the show, and so is your father; it would be a sound business decision.”
Arthur shook his head. “I already offered Mer-- Chef Emrys the opportunity for a second season. He declined.”
“But that was before we had the rumor situation under control,” Leon pointed out. “It wouldn’t hurt to make the offer again, along with an explanation.”
“Fine,” Arthur said in a clipped tone. “Draw up a formal offer and have it sent to Chef Emrys in New York. But don’t get too attached to the idea. He seemed to have his mind quite made up when I last spoke to him.”
Leon forced down a grimace. “Arthur,” he said slowly, “we’ve known each other for a long time, and you know I consider you a friend as well as my employer.”
“I don’t need you to be my friend right now,” Arthur said. “I need you to be my personal assistant and take care of this.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it,” Leon said. “You’re a mess, Pendragon, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Elena’s worried about you, your sister’s worried about you... Hell, even Alined over in Legal cornered me this morning to ask if you were all right.”
“I’m fine,” Arthur said.
“The last time I saw you this ‘fine,’ Arthur, you’d just left your fiancee and were halfway through a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.”
Arthur’s eyes dropped, and he stared at a point just beyond his desk. “I will be fine, then,” he insisted. “I have to be. I can’t change what’s happened, so I have to live with it.”
“Arthur--” Leon began.
“And it’s not like we really had anything, anyway,” Arthur went on. “Mutual attraction and a one-off in a catering van hardly constitutes a relationship.”
“That was more information than I actually needed,” Leon said, “but you’re being stupid. Whatever happened or didn’t happen, it’s obvious it meant something to you.”
Arthur looked up at him, a pained smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It doesn’t matter what it meant. I still can’t change anything.”
“Arthur,” Leon said, “does he know that it meant something to you?”
“Of course he does,” Arthur said. “I told him so when we were fighting.”
It took a great deal of effort, but Leon managed to refrain from banging his head into the nearest wall. “And have you talked to him about it since? Have you even had any conversations about your relationship that didn’t involve shouting?”
“Well,” Arthur said, “no.”
“Don’t you think that’s a possibility you might want to explore before giving up entirely?”
Arthur stared at him. “Oh, god,” he said after an impossibly long minute. “I’m an idiot.”
“Sometimes,” Leon agreed.
“I have to talk to him,” Arthur said. “I need to--” He pulled himself up straight. “Leon, book me a flight to New York.”
“Already taken care of,” Leon said. “Your flight leaves first thing in the morning. The confirmation number is in the front pocket of your suitcase, in the trunk of your car.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “My suitcase?”
Leon nodded. “With your toiletries and a week’s worth of clothes. You really should finish up whatever you were working on so you can get home and get to bed. When I said first thing in the morning, I meant it. You need to be at the airport by five.”
“Right,” Arthur said, coming around the desk. “I’ll yell at you later for doing this without consulting me first. Find out where Merlin is staying and email me the address and directions so I have them in the morning.”
“Address and directions are in the same envelope as the confirmation number for your flight,” Leon told him.
“Sometimes,” Arthur said, “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’d rather not consider it,” Leon said. “Now go get some sleep so you can catch your goddamn plane.”
Next
Movie night was something of a tradition for Gwen and Lance. They tried to arrange four hours of every week where they had no obligations to anything else, so they could sit on Lance’s couch and have time just for themselves. Tonight’s date in was doubly special, because it was the first time they had invited Morgana to join them.
The movie was some French thing that Gwen was fairly sure Morgana had picked out because they had all mentioned they’d liked it, and it wouldn’t require them to focus too heavily on the screen. They’d all settled onto the couch with their fresh popped popcorn and glasses of wine. Morgana was in the middle, in order to emphasize that they were all doing this together.
The movie had been playing for an hour when there was pounding on the door.
“Lance, dude, open up.” Gwen wasn’t sure if she or Lance had it in them to murder Gwaine, but judging from Morgana’s expression, she had no such reservations.
Lance extricated himself from the couch and opened the door. “Go away, it’s date night.” He managed to block Gwaine from entering, but Elena twisted around him until she was half inside the apartment.
“You have to let us in. We’ve just returned from a secret, deadly mission and have news that’s vitally important to the resistance.”
“Elena Godwin?” Morgana said getting up to join Lance at the door. “Are you drunk?”
“No! Well yes, but that’s not important,” Elena informed them.
“We’re spectacularly drunk. Otherwise it would never have occurred to us that the only way to save Merlin would be to break into the Blessed Cafe,” Gwaine said.
“Break in...You didn’t drive tonight did you?” Gwen hoped they hadn’t committed more than one crime tonight.
“Save Merlin? It’s a little late for that, given that he’s already left. Also, get in here before someone calls the police,” Lance said before either of them could answer Gwen, moving aside to let them in.
“This is why I don’t like Berkeley. No one would call the cops in Oakland,” Gwaine said sullenly as he staggered inside. “Also, dear Guinevere, we walked. Didn’t want anyone getting the license plate of the getaway car.” They both looked like they had been cosplaying as cat burglars.
“You walked.” Morgana said, rolling her eyes at them as everyone headed back to the living room. “Elena, are you barefoot?”
“Gwaine didn’t have ninja shoes that would fit me.”
“Ninja.” Gwen realized there was no choice but to be the one person in the room capable of common sense. “You two, sit on the couch and stay there. Lance, grab chairs for the three of us so we can see them while they tell us what must be an interesting story. Morgana, dear, would you mind helping me start a pot of coffee?”
Once in the kitchen, Gwen handed Morgana the coffee carafe, while she grabbed the beans to grind them. “Fill it all the way. It might not sober them up, but I suspect we’re in for a long night and are going to need it.” Morgana did as asked, and once Gwen had the coffeemaker turned on, they went back to the living room to get answers.
“Okay, start talking,” she said as she, Morgana, and Lance took their seats.
“The Blessed cult people are conspiring against you guys, so we had to go get evidence. And we did,” Elena said. She leaned back on the couch in a vain attempt to gain enough leverage to get her hand into her pocket.
“Where would you even get such an idea?” Gwen asked.
"From the news. You know how I’ve only slept with musicians and cultists? I recognized the cultists,” Gwaine said, rolling his eyes like it was obvious.
“What was on the news?” Lance said.
“They’re not a cult,” Morgana said at the same time.
Everyone stopped talking, Elena stopped trying to get whatever it was out of her pocket, and they all just looked at Morgana.
“What? They’re not. People just don’t understand raw food.”
Lance put his hand on her knee for reassurance. “They make all their employees take classes on self-actualization.”
“They all call the owners ‘priestess,’” Gwen added.
“It’s okay,” Elena said, scooting forward on the couch and reaching until she could put her hand on Morgana’s other knee. “It’s still a delicious cult.”
“Now that that’s settled.” Gwaine pulled Elena back onto the couch before she fell off the edge. “I saw some of my exes on video at the protest.”
“Some of your exes?” Morgana asked.
“So, ‘ex’ might be generous, but the point is, I knew that they all work for Blessed now, and none of them would be at a protest unless Morgause and Nimueh told them to be there, because half those guys can’t wipe their asses unless Morgause tells them to and hands them the roll of organically sourced, unbleached, recycled toilet paper,” Gwaine said as he pulled an iPhone out of his pocket.
“Hey, you had it,” Elena said reaching for the phone.
“Yeah, you told me your pockets weren’t real.” he replied with a leer, handing her the phone.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “So, what evidence did you find exactly?”
Elena fiddled with her phone and handed it to Morgana. “You can scroll through and see. They had a whiteboard, with plans on it. Terrible plans, and we have to do something to stop it before they get to stage four.”
The others looked at the pictures. They were fairly clear, considering, and only two of them were inappropriate shots of Gwaine. The evidence was pretty damning. Morgana had obviously recognized the room, given how fast she stood up and handed the phone to Gwen before heading into the kitchen.
“What’s stage four?” Lance asked.
“We don’t know, but if we’re just at stage three, it’s got to be horrible,” Elena responded.
Morgana came back out carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and her Blackberry in the other. “Elena, you will have water and then a cup of coffee, and you will attempt to pass for sober within the next hour. I’m contacting my assistant Aglain to find us a conference room and contact Arthur’s PA. You will be joining me to convince Leon to corral Arthur and to get Arthur to make things up to Merlin, and get him back to Oakland for a second season. If you do not, I will call your father and tell him you have embarked on a criminal career with a professional musician.”
“Gwaine doesn’t count as a bad boyfriend. His stocks have vested,” Elena said, pouting.
“What?” Morgana almost dropped her phone.
“Yeah. I might have at one point been involved in an Internet security company, and am kind of independently wealthy.” Gwaine looked slightly embarrassed that he’d actually confessed to that.
“So, you’re a hacker? Can you mobilize the troops to clean up the mess made of Ambrosia’s reputation?” Morgana asked.
“Oh, do you have a Guy Fawkes mask?” Elena was leering at Gwaine, and Gwen really didn’t want to know why that, of all things, would do it.
“I could probably arrange something.” Gwaine responded, but to which of them, Gwen wasn’t completely sure.
“Make your plans. I’ll drop you off when I take Elena to meet Leon. I need to call in a favor and book an interview for Gaius to tackle these rumors head on. Gwen, Lance, may I impose on you to make sure Gaius is passably sober when it happens?”
“Of course, Morgana. If this works, it’s worth anything.” Gwen answered.
Morgana smiled at her. “I’m really sorry about our date, but I’m going to try to make things right,” she said as she snuck back into the kitchen to make her phone calls.
“Arthur, we need to talk.” Leon’s voice was firm, and he intentionally used Arthur’s first name instead of something more formal so the other man would know that he was addressing him as a friend, not an employee.
Arthur didn’t take the hint. He looked up from the papers strewn across his desk with bleary eyes. “If it’s about The Snake, tell Father I’ve taken care of it. There’s a press release scheduled for this afternoon.”
“It’s not about The Snake,” Leon said, seating himself in one of the chairs on the far side of Arthur’s desk. “I just got back from a meeting with Elena Godwin.” Along with Morgana, although he thought Arthur was best left in the dark about that. Someday, Arthur really was going to have to get over balking at anything his sister thought was important. Morgana might be young still, and a bit rash at times, but she was a smart woman, and often saw things that others missed.
Arthur frowned. “Elena? What sort of meeting? Why wasn’t I invited? Leon, you know how important the Godwins are to my father, both professionally and personally. Anything involving them should have been brought to me immediately.”
“This wasn’t about the Godwins, Arthur,” Leon said somberly. “This meeting was about you.”
“Me?” Arthur’s frown deepened. “Why on earth would you be meeting with Elena about me?”
Leon rested his hands on the desk, a trick he’d learned in public speaking class in college for appearing trustworthy. “We’re worried about you, Arthur. All of your friends are. You haven’t been yourself, lately, and I know you’re upset about how filming A Wizard in the Kitchen affected the staff of Ambrosia.”
Arthur’s face went blank, in that way it did when he was dealing with a particularly difficult client. Or his father. “While I am concerned that the popularity of the show may have contributed in some way to the negative press Ambrosia has been receiving, I don’t feel responsible, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“No,” Leon said carefully, “that’s not what I’m getting at.”
“Good,” Arthur continued, arranging the papers on his desk into (completely random, as far as Leon could tell) neat piles. “Because if anyone’s to blame, it’s Merlin. Er, Chef Emrys. He should have been more upfront about his relationship with Anthony Balinor and considered the problems it might have caused the restaurant.”
“I’m pretty sure Gaius, at least, was aware of Merlin’s parentage,” Leon said. “He is Merlin’s uncle, after all.”
“Yes, well...” Arthur floundered.
“You’ll be happy to know,” Leon pressed on, unwilling to give Arthur the opportunity to come up with further justifications for acting a fool, “that Ms. Godwin discovered the source of the rumors.”
“Source of the rumors?” Arthur asked. “Are you suggesting this was more than the media and public overreacting to a juicy bit of gossip?”
“I’m not suggesting, Arthur,” Leon said. “Elena found evidence. The whole debacle was a smear campaign, spearheaded by the owners of the Blessed Cafe.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair, looking troubled. “Then I am responsible,” he said. “At least partially, if this is about them being upset over not getting offered the show.”
“That does appear to have been a contributing factor,” Leon agreed.
Arthur slapped a hand down on his desk, leaning forward. “We have to fix this,” he said.
“I agree,” Leon said, “which is why I came to see you.”
“We’ll need to set up an interview,” Arthur said. “Something friendly and informal for some of the Ambrosia staff, where they can address the rumors head-on.”
“Already taken care of,” Leon told him. “Your sister pulled some strings, and Gaius has a spot with Katie Couric tomorrow morning. He’s coming in this afternoon so our PR people can brief him on how to handle any tough questions.” The interview had been in the works for several days, and would have gone ahead with or without Arthur’s say-so, but it was a relief to see Arthur really thinking again instead of moping.
Arthur looked surprised, but nodded. “Good. If you’ve talked to my sister, I assume she’s got some ideas about how to best address the spread of misinformation online?”
Leon nodded. “She’s gathered some of her best people to work on exposing the source of the rumors and discrediting Nimueh Linn and Morgause Cornysh.” He left out the part where Morgana’s ‘best people’ were a rather sketchy-looking lot, and seemed to include that guitar player Elena was seeing.
“It sounds like Morgana’s got that in hand, then,” Arthur said, “and, much as it pains me to admit it, she’s far better at handling online communities than I will ever be.” He stopped and gave Leon a stern look. “Don’t ever repeat that.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Leon said.
“The episode with the Ambrosia staff at the Live Local fundraiser is due to air in two weeks,” Arthur continued. “Schedule a meeting for me with the editing staff. I want to make sure that one sends the right message.”
Leon pulled out his iPad. “How about next Tuesday at one?”
“Perfect,” Arthur said. “That’s a good start, but surely you and Elena must have come up with some ideas about what needs to be done or you wouldn’t be here. Talk to me, Leon. What angle am I missing?”
Leon set his iPad on the edge of Arthur’s desk and folded his hands in his lap. “Well,” he said, “there is the matter of Chef Emrys.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, just a fraction. “What about Chef Emrys?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Leon said, “but Chef Emrys has been offered a very prestigious position at a restaurant in New York.”
“Yes,” Arthur said, his voice tight, “I’d heard that.”
Leon had suspected that was the case. Arthur had told him about the blowup over Merlin’s father, and had been all kinds of sulky since, but that was nothing compared to the cloud of gloom he’d become since Merlin left for New York.
“He’s obviously a huge asset to Ambrosia,” Leon continued, “and Gaius, as well as most of the other staff, believe that the recent controversy has contributed significantly to Merlin’s decision to go to New York.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Arthur said. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Someone needs to explain to Chef Emrys that we’ve got the situation well in hand,” Leon said. “That way, he can make his decision based purely on the merits of the two jobs. It also probably wouldn’t hurt if we made a formal offer for a second season of A Wizard in the Kitchen. The critics are impressed with the show, and so is your father; it would be a sound business decision.”
Arthur shook his head. “I already offered Mer-- Chef Emrys the opportunity for a second season. He declined.”
“But that was before we had the rumor situation under control,” Leon pointed out. “It wouldn’t hurt to make the offer again, along with an explanation.”
“Fine,” Arthur said in a clipped tone. “Draw up a formal offer and have it sent to Chef Emrys in New York. But don’t get too attached to the idea. He seemed to have his mind quite made up when I last spoke to him.”
Leon forced down a grimace. “Arthur,” he said slowly, “we’ve known each other for a long time, and you know I consider you a friend as well as my employer.”
“I don’t need you to be my friend right now,” Arthur said. “I need you to be my personal assistant and take care of this.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it,” Leon said. “You’re a mess, Pendragon, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Elena’s worried about you, your sister’s worried about you... Hell, even Alined over in Legal cornered me this morning to ask if you were all right.”
“I’m fine,” Arthur said.
“The last time I saw you this ‘fine,’ Arthur, you’d just left your fiancee and were halfway through a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.”
Arthur’s eyes dropped, and he stared at a point just beyond his desk. “I will be fine, then,” he insisted. “I have to be. I can’t change what’s happened, so I have to live with it.”
“Arthur--” Leon began.
“And it’s not like we really had anything, anyway,” Arthur went on. “Mutual attraction and a one-off in a catering van hardly constitutes a relationship.”
“That was more information than I actually needed,” Leon said, “but you’re being stupid. Whatever happened or didn’t happen, it’s obvious it meant something to you.”
Arthur looked up at him, a pained smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It doesn’t matter what it meant. I still can’t change anything.”
“Arthur,” Leon said, “does he know that it meant something to you?”
“Of course he does,” Arthur said. “I told him so when we were fighting.”
It took a great deal of effort, but Leon managed to refrain from banging his head into the nearest wall. “And have you talked to him about it since? Have you even had any conversations about your relationship that didn’t involve shouting?”
“Well,” Arthur said, “no.”
“Don’t you think that’s a possibility you might want to explore before giving up entirely?”
Arthur stared at him. “Oh, god,” he said after an impossibly long minute. “I’m an idiot.”
“Sometimes,” Leon agreed.
“I have to talk to him,” Arthur said. “I need to--” He pulled himself up straight. “Leon, book me a flight to New York.”
“Already taken care of,” Leon said. “Your flight leaves first thing in the morning. The confirmation number is in the front pocket of your suitcase, in the trunk of your car.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “My suitcase?”
Leon nodded. “With your toiletries and a week’s worth of clothes. You really should finish up whatever you were working on so you can get home and get to bed. When I said first thing in the morning, I meant it. You need to be at the airport by five.”
“Right,” Arthur said, coming around the desk. “I’ll yell at you later for doing this without consulting me first. Find out where Merlin is staying and email me the address and directions so I have them in the morning.”
“Address and directions are in the same envelope as the confirmation number for your flight,” Leon told him.
“Sometimes,” Arthur said, “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’d rather not consider it,” Leon said. “Now go get some sleep so you can catch your goddamn plane.”
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