Grant strolls through the crowded lobby of the convention center. He's being trailed by several polo-shirted minders and he knows some functionary upstairs in the VIP rooms is probably having a minor heart attack right about now, but he's on a mission. He heads for the Starbucks stand, and by the time he gets there one of the polo shirts has made the line part like the Red Sea. It's the kind of thing that happens, these days, and he won't say he minds, exactly, but he makes sure to stop and say hello to the owners of several outstretched hands in the line. The actual coffee ordering takes the least time of all, but he pays careful attention that the construction of the drink is exactly to specifications. It's not for him, after all. It's a surprise, and surprises should always be pleasant.
He's probably more careful than is strictly necessary walking back toward the greenroom. He asked the barista to put one of the green stoppers in the lid, but there are a lot of people around, and despite the minders, bumping into someone is not outside the realm of possibilities. Grant quite likes his suit and he doesn't particularly want it soaked in coffee. Or for the surprise to be ruined.
Finally, they're away from the roiling masses of people and into the quieter areas of the convention center. The steady roar of the crowds fades into a hum punctuated by various people of various amounts of import chatting or laughing.
He was right about the possible cardiac irregularities he was causing, it seems; there's a young woman with a staff name badge hovering by a half-open door, and when she sees him she loses about five years of stress from her expression. "Mr. Morrison! You have a few minutes, Mr. Way just arrived, would you like - oh. I see you have coffee."
"I'll just wait a few minutes and help myself to some water," he squints at her name badge, "- Sharon. This isn't for me." She holds the door open for him and when he walks through he can see Gerard, sunglasses shoved up into his messy hair, slouched in the corner talking to Scott Allie, who's acting as their moderator today. Mehdi, Gerard's ever-present security, is in the other corner talking quietly on a cell phone.
Gerard looks up at the sound of the door closing. Grant was right; he does look tired, slight smudges under his eyes. He looks, in fact, like he'd prefer to still be wearing his sunglasses, perhaps napping on one of the couches, but he smiles instantly, brightly, when he sees Grant. "Grant, you made it!"
Re: Crossover Gerard/Grant Morrison - a surprise (or two!) at Comic-Con
He's probably more careful than is strictly necessary walking back toward the greenroom. He asked the barista to put one of the green stoppers in the lid, but there are a lot of people around, and despite the minders, bumping into someone is not outside the realm of possibilities. Grant quite likes his suit and he doesn't particularly want it soaked in coffee. Or for the surprise to be ruined.
Finally, they're away from the roiling masses of people and into the quieter areas of the convention center. The steady roar of the crowds fades into a hum punctuated by various people of various amounts of import chatting or laughing.
He was right about the possible cardiac irregularities he was causing, it seems; there's a young woman with a staff name badge hovering by a half-open door, and when she sees him she loses about five years of stress from her expression. "Mr. Morrison! You have a few minutes, Mr. Way just arrived, would you like - oh. I see you have coffee."
"I'll just wait a few minutes and help myself to some water," he squints at her name badge, "- Sharon. This isn't for me." She holds
the door open for him and when he walks through he can see Gerard, sunglasses shoved up into his messy hair, slouched in the
corner talking to Scott Allie, who's acting as their moderator today. Mehdi, Gerard's ever-present security, is in the other corner talking
quietly on a cell phone.
Gerard looks up at the sound of the door closing. Grant was right; he does look tired, slight smudges under his eyes. He looks, in fact,
like he'd prefer to still be wearing his sunglasses, perhaps napping on one of the couches, but he smiles instantly, brightly, when he sees Grant. "Grant, you made it!"