Lunch with Whitley

It's true: friends are better than family. Especially when the family is the Schnees.

[Author's Note: This story takes place soon after the end of the story collection Volume 6 – Fighting Back. It is one of a set of 'transition' stories that will lead to Volume 7.]

"To what," said Weiss, "do I owe this invitation? And allow me to say, at this point, that I certainly hope you are paying."

Whitley smiled. "Of course," he said.

He had obviously booked the whole restaurant, the most expensive one in Vale. The only other people here were two heavy-set men in suits sitting a few tables away. There were two more in a large car outside.

"I suppose you know," he said, "that our father has disinherited you."

"I didn't know but I was pretty sure he would. And I assume you have become the sole heir. Pity you're not of legal age."

"Oh, didn't I tell you about that? A court granted me special status. I even have a board seat."

"Well, snaps to you. Which still doesn't explain why you came all the way to Vale to buy me lunch."

"Ah. Here's the thing. Our dear stepfather is ... not the man he was."

"You mean he's no longer a venal, vicious, lying prick?"

"Oh, he's still all that. Even more, really. Which is the problem. When you ... departed ... he, er, he did not take it well. He sent teams out looking for you, wanted the whole company turned upside-down to find you. The board had a few problems with that. Not core to our business model, everyone said. But he just kept on about it. I told him to forgive and forget but he wouldn't listen."

"Forgive and forget, eh? That's really what you told him?"

"Yes, I did, knowing he wouldn't hear it. I just wanted it on the record."

A waitress put the first course on the table. They ate in silence.

"When this Grimm thing happened in Vale a few days ago," said Whitley eventually, "he hit the roof. He knew you were involved. Well, everyone knew. He wanted to send a team of, shall we say, specialists. People to get you, bring you back. They didn't know exactly where you were, though. He wanted them to scour the whole town if necessary."

"Which raises the question, how did you get my scroll number?"

"Winter. I stay in touch with her, in a roundabout way. Say, she seems a bit less tightly-wrapped these days. Do you know why?"

"Girls will be girls," said Weiss. "Somehow, Whit, I don't think you are here on our father's behalf."

"Weiss, have I ever acted on anyone's behalf but my own?"

"I have always admired your consistency, brother."

"Thank you. The truth is that I would like you to come back. To take a role on the executive team. A high-profile role. You have gained a lot of prestige through this Grimm thing. I am sure that eventually we could even get a court to undo the disinheritance order. You wouldn't be an heir again, of course, but you would be back in the family and I would make sure you had significant responsibilities. I know you have always wanted to improve things with the faunus, so maybe you would like to take that job on. Reporting to me, of course."

"Of course. So I would be the PR face to say how much things were going to change while, in fact, nothing changed at all."

"Perhaps some small changes could be brought in."

"I doubt it. But you forget that Daddy is still running things."

"That might not last. The board is deeply concerned with his ... obsession ... with you. If you were to make an appearance, brimming with fame and ready to take up senior responsibilities, it would push him over the edge. The board would have no choice but to ... remove ... him. And install someone with the Schnee name in his place."

"A corner-office coup, eh?"

"Not the words I would use, but you could call it that."

The waitress brought another course. Another waitress took the men in suits some drinks.

"So you will come back," said Whitley.

"No, I don't think so. My responsibilities are here, with my team. There's a bigger war to fight."

"I wasn't asking a question, dear sister." He gestured for the two men in suits to join them.

But the men didn't move.

There was a waitress – a woman dressed as a waitress – standing behind them. There was the ominous sound of Yang's gauntlets being cocked. "Why don't you just enjoy the drinks, fellas," she said. "On your boss."

Whitley began to reach into his jacket.

"Perhaps that would not be appropriate," said the other waitress, now standing behind Whitley. Blake.

Ruby came in. She appeared to be wearing the uniform of a parking inspector. "The guys outside have decided to take a little nap," she said. "By the way, I gave your car a parking ticket. Surprisingly enjoyable."

"Do you know why friends are better than family?" said Weiss to her brother. "You can choose your friends."

Whitley stared at her.

"Here's the bottom line," said Weiss. "I am not sure that I want to see you in the big chair at Schnee Family Inc. You're just as evil as Jacques, and possibly smarter. If you want to roll him I can't stop you, but I won't help you, either. In fact, I'm happy to see him stamp his little feet in an extended tantrum. But you can give him a message. No specialists in the mix, no track-down teams, no mercs. If I so much as smell one, Daddy dear might be receiving a little visit one dark night."

Whitely raised an eyebrow. "From you?" he said.

"No," said Blake softly. "Not just her."

Weiss put her napkin on the table. "Time for you to be on your way, brother," she said.

"Just don't forget to pay the cheque," said Yang.

"And the parking ticket," added Ruby.

Whitley gave a little smile. "Well played, sister," he said to Weiss. He stood up, gave a little bow to each of the women, and walked stiffly out. His men followed.

"There was no part of that that wasn't fun," said Ruby, as Yang and Blake exchanged high-fives.

"Yes," said Weiss. "But I have the feeling that we will hear from him again."

END