goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"There will be enough family on this trip," is the stern reply, followed by a grimace. "And some are better kept well away from one another."

That is about all the family drama York will get hints at before Carolina returns. Looking...less than pleased, actually. "There will be a police detail, but they're too relaxed for my liking just because the suspect is in jail. Looks like it may be a larger gang of press, too." There a sympathetic look for Taylor. "Might want to pre-prepare a statement, rather than let them pick at you with questions."

"...i hate this part of my job." The recording, the performing, that he loves. The press? Hates them. "All in favor of my becoming a hermit and releasing music online, raise your hand."

He holds his own up high while he sips his coffee.

"you enjoy performing too much," Carolina points out as she sits back down, though she's not without sympathy for the feeling. "Or Delta could write sonething..?"

"I could," he agrees, "but York's attendance will still be required."

"True." He scrubs at his bad eye. It always aches before the rest of his head. "I'll go. I don't know what they wanna hear. Bad shit happened. I'm okay. Concert went on. Bitches be crazy."

"Downplay it if you want. Make sure to speak well of the club - in spite of that man getting through, they were cooperative and did everything they could to help. Especially when we moved things to the roof."

"Right- they were pretty great about getting everything set up so quick. I think they sent a fruit basket? Some kind of an apology." That's worth plenty in his book.

"No baskets, yet." She's have noticed, and probably devoured a good few items in it. She likes fruit.

"Huh. Coulda sworn." He shrugs and takes another deep swig of coffee. "Should I dress up or dress down?"

"Dress for your fans," Delta advises, reshuffling papers. "There will likely be a crowd present, hoping to wave goodbye. They are the ones who need the reassurance more."

"Gotta get out the gel and the guyliner then. Woo!" Half excited fist pump, go. "Think I got something packed that'll work, yeah."

Guyliner? Really? That's a word people actually use in the real world? Carolina just stares at him for a long moment, before making a shooing motion. "Keep in mind that the doors are all translucent in there," she reminds him. She doesn't need to see her client in various stages of undress at this early stage in their business relationship.

Cup in hand he slumps out of his chair with a muttered groan, he hates pr bullshit but- he'll do it. Shower, shave, makeup, hair, he keeps a towel on as much as possible to prevent the odds of getting his ass seen.

Such a nice ass, too. And no one free to pay attention in the unlikely event it did slip - both Carolina and Delta have their heads together, discussing the event, before Carolina steps out to go deal with any immediate issues with escorting York to and from.

They're keeping it short. Delta would handle any specific questions. But York would read something, a short message for the fans, then be allowed to step back.

Well, that was the plan anyway. Would it survive engagement with the enemy known as the press? Knocking on the door, Carolina peeked back into the suite, 10 minutes prior to leaving time.

"Everyone ready?"

It's his usual casual attire, hair gelled up, foundation under the eyes to hide the shadows. Chapstick, eyeliner, and a cocky grin and he's ready to go. That and a bracelet woven by a fan and his dogtags tucked into his shirt completes the usual image. "Ready when you are."

"Then let's go." Said, as she regards him thoughtfully, noting his entire appearance. That the foundation is layered so carefully speaks of regular application and there's a flicker of sympathy in the smile she offers, before opening the door for him and Delta.

She'll lead, or at least flank his right side, Delta taking up his customary place on the left. The journey itself isn't too arduous, though they have to sneak around to a sopide entrance to skip the growing mob of reporters. They'll be facing them soon enough. One more check-in with the team already here, and Carolina returns to her charge and emotes. "Almost time to go. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be. They've all got their big flashy cameras out today, don't they? Gotta make sure I'm looking good." He sighs, raises a hand to drag it through his hair, stops, and frowns at the carpet instead. Almost done. He's almost done. He takes a slow breath and pastes on a crooked, cocky smile and squares out his shoulders. "Right. Showtime."

There's a light slap to one shoulder, before Carolina steps forward, nodding to both of the guards on either side of the door. Once York and Delta are both out, they'll fall in to flank behind, with the redhead leading the way. She only allows Delta to take point once they ready the conference room, making a point to have the other guards enter first, then Delta, then the star everyone else is here to see.

She'll follow from the rear. Always better to have a guard there.

And yeah, flashing cameras, a dull wave of sound in the form of voices and questions, chatter and the clicking of pens, recorders, phones- a million little technical things that hit him and leave him tense and hyperaware but unable to do a goddamn thing about it. He needs to step up to the table, take a seat, and smile. Smile and wave and take a sip of the water they'd poured out for him to steady himself.

Fine, he's gonna be fine, they're gonna be fine, Delta's at his left, he's gonna be fine.

Delta moves, but it is Carolina who notices York stall. Take time to gather himself. Slowly, moving again to his right side, she plants a hand against his upper back. A strong firm presense, even as her gaze never leaves the audience. "If you want Delta to handle all the talking, we've planned for that," she tells him in an undertone. "Just stand there, look pretty."

He should be able to handle this. It's nothing he hasn't done a hundred times before- but it's the lack of sleep, the smoke, the horrible dreams that kept him up in the first place that has him shaken. Carolina's hand is something he leans into subtly- not enough to be seen but enough to steady him all the more.

He turns to flash her a smile, one that feels more real. Why wouldn't he smile? He's good with everyone he works with- well. Everyone but Reggie. "You think? Say I trashed my voice. Kinda did."

Bless them both for that.

"Done." Said, just as Delta turns to look towards them, and there's a subtle hand signal - once that earns a quizzical tilt of D's head, before he nods acceptance and steps up himself.

The consumate professional. Echoed in how York's bodyguard slips into a stance similar to parade rest, hand drawn away from York's back to rest behind her own. Nothing here is setting off her own sense of awareness. So. So far, so good.

It's the usual round of questions to start, apparently no one wants to bring up the delay just yet. Then someone in the front, louder than the rest breaks the ice. What happened? Why was someone arrested? Is this connected to York's military career?

That, that one right there makes York frown, he was a soldier, yeah, but it's behind him, he's moved on, why can't everyone else? Jesus.

Carolina's mouth twitches but there's no comment from her, though she can't blame York's reaction to the question.

Delta, however, merely Looks at the man. It's the sort of expression dignified men barely using a fraction of their brain give to those who ask stupid questions. He explains calmly, measuredly, that unauthorised personnel were removed from the premises due to tresspassing, that the matter was in the hands of the police and that should further news be available, it will occur once the police have handled the situation to the best of their ability.

There is no comment about the military, no comment on why.

He then moves on to make a short thank you statement to fans; it sounds dry, coming from Delta, and amusing, since it was written with York's speech patterns in mind.

This is why he adores Delta. Loves him like family. That he can reduce even the most shit stirring of journalists to wincing kindergardeners with a look. York has tired to master the look. He has failed. But the conference moves on and York has, to the best of his ability, smiled and nodded along with most of the answers- when addressing the fans? He makes a heart with his hands for the camera for them to see

Which, of course, is an excellent photo moment- doing this shit he's come to expect and brace himself for the sudden spike in flashing and clicking that comes from cameras. Seriously. Digital cameras do not need flashes this bright. So he does the thing. It's something he does, it's normal, but every fucking time.

Camera city.

And it's the question, the muffled roar of the crowed outside the pressroom, the tension, the sudden spike of lights and sound- something, any of it, all of it and he can usually grit his teeth and get by. For some reason? He just can't. His hands start to shake so he drops them to the table, presses them flat and tries to breathe through it, his grin more of a grimace as his eyes dart from face to face, camera flash to camera flash and-

He needs air. Need air but is too fucking terrified to move.

She knows that aura of terror. Sees how the confidence, even the fascade of such, drains out of him as the conference continues, and with the cameras on him, he's pinned down.

It's her job to guard him, perhaps even from himself. This crowd? She can do something about. She presses a finger against the ear-piece she's wearing, turns her head away as though listening to some distant voice - all acting, there's no one talking, the hook isn't even connected. But the press don't know that, and that's all to the good as far as she's concerned.

She steps forward, up to the table, plants a hand at York's elbow and tugs. Turns him bodily away from the crowd so that she can appear to whisper in his ear. "We're leaving," she informs him flatly, "Act like this is any old regular change of plans. We have a car on standby. Any objections?"

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