A plan.
He didn’t have to wonder if the supposition was correct, didn’t need to sift through faded memories looking for a time that Courtland proved himself capable of handling a situation. It just clicked: sure, of course Daddy would have had a plan.
To Google Courtland Farr (2AM, last call, the smell of stale smoke long soaked-in and three people nursing well scotches in their respective corners; Near with a rag in one hand, poised to wipe down the sticky bartop but squinting at the phone in his other hand instead -- search results fractured across cracked screen of a phone he can’t afford to replace) was to immerse yourself in praises of the man's business acumen: he had navigated mergers and takeover attempts, economic downturns, the odd scandal involving his board of directors but somehow never himself. And he had apparently always gotten Farr Ventures through the maelstrom intact, still standing tall at the helm. Whatever else he might have been, he was a man with plans. Near might have gotten The Reaches, the money, but Courtland had known better than to leave him any piece of the family business: it would have ended up wrecked against the nearest crag sooner rather than later -- by accident if he didn’t have the heart to run it into the ground on purpose.
Courtland would have had a plan. Near, on many levels, did not.
“A plan for what?”
He didn’t have to wonder if the supposition was correct, didn’t need to sift through faded memories looking for a time that Courtland proved himself capable of handling a situation. It just clicked: sure, of course Daddy would have had a plan.
To Google Courtland Farr (2AM, last call, the smell of stale smoke long soaked-in and three people nursing well scotches in their respective corners; Near with a rag in one hand, poised to wipe down the sticky bartop but squinting at the phone in his other hand instead -- search results fractured across cracked screen of a phone he can’t afford to replace) was to immerse yourself in praises of the man's business acumen: he had navigated mergers and takeover attempts, economic downturns, the odd scandal involving his board of directors but somehow never himself. And he had apparently always gotten Farr Ventures through the maelstrom intact, still standing tall at the helm. Whatever else he might have been, he was a man with plans. Near might have gotten The Reaches, the money, but Courtland had known better than to leave him any piece of the family business: it would have ended up wrecked against the nearest crag sooner rather than later -- by accident if he didn’t have the heart to run it into the ground on purpose.
Courtland would have had a plan. Near, on many levels, did not.
“A plan for what?”