Several minutes passed in silence. There was a slight nervousness in the air, particularly for the driver. However, but Denver's presence calmed him somewhat. The tension was lessened, but not entirely gone.
Suddenly, someone appeared beside the car, moving with purpose. The man glanced at the car, then opened the door and slid into the front seat.
The air was charged with his imposing presence.
The man's attire was simple, a plain shirt and black pants, but there was nothing ordinary about him. His bearing, his gaze, and his very presence demanded respect.
He nodded to Dorian and Denver, who sat in the back seat acknowledging their presence, and then did same to the driver who nodded back, feeling even more anxious.
This man was clearly someone to be reckoned with as his presence commanded a level of reverence.
Denver broke the tense silence with a friendly, "Hey, Julian!" He gave the man a welcoming smile.
The man, Julian, nodded back to Denver, his expression inscrutable.
Denver chuckled slightly before continuing, "No wonder. I was wondering why Dorian was keeping us here without telling Mr. Lucky to move the car. So it was because of you! Oh my god, Julian! I never knew you were coming back to the city with Dorian!" His voice was filled with a sincere delight.
Denver's talkativeness was well-known, and it made him easy to converse with, even for Mr. Lucky, who felt more at ease with him than with Dorian, the quieter type, or Julian, who exuded seriousness.
Julian turned to look at Denver, his expression inexplicable. "I couldn't leave my Master to return alone, could I?"
Denver rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "Master, Julian? Not Best friend?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.
Dorian subtly gestured for Mr. Lucky to start the car, raising his fingers up from his folded arms where it all laid, and the driver was quick to pick up on the hint. He turned the ignition, and the car purred to life. The four men were on their way.
As Mr. Lucky drove, he reflected on his journey from humble beginnings to his current role as a driver for the Gray family.
He hadn't always worked as a family driver. In fact, he had been looking for any way to support his family when the Gray family offered him a position as their daughter's personal driver - a fortuitous turn of events.
And now, unfortunately, or fortunately rather, he was tasked with picking up Dorian and was escorted by Denver at once.
Though, he didn't know so much about Dorian because Dorian had not been in the city for over eight years and himself - Mr. Lucky, was just a barely new worker who had stayed for two years.
But, he was enlightened a bit about Dorian by the family, Dorian's sister precisely, and also his own daughter who was in constant talking with Gray's daughter.
He had heard the rumors of Dorian's ruthless business tactics, but also of his generosity. The contradictions intrigued Mr. Lucky. What sort of man was Dorian, really?
As they continued their journey through the city, Mr. Lucky followed a carefully constructed route, one designed to avoid the public eye. He had been warned by the Gray family to avoid all public roads, as Dorian did not want to be seen.
He knew that the family had spent an enormous amount of money to construct a private road for Dorian's use, complete with tunnels and secluded access. This route was for Dorian's eyes only.
Denver broke the silence again, asking the one question that has been on his mind lately- since the drive kicked off. "Julian, why didn't you get off the helicopter with Dorian? Were you even in the helicopter?"
He scratched his chin, deep in thought. "If you weren't in the helicopter, how did you get here?" Denver asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Julian's gaze did not waver from the road as he replied, "I flew on a commercial plane."
Denver scratched his head, skeptical. "You mean to tell me you sat on a plane full of strangers? I can't imagine you enjoying that experience," he said with a raised eyebrow.
He was definitely aware of Julian's dislike of crowds just the way Dorian was and he couldn't believe the man had willingly subjected himself to such an experience.
With his voice as unyielding as ever, Julian replied, "I flew commercial, believe it or not." Then, as if to punctuate his point, he pulled a laptop out of his bag.
Denver was taken aback, having not noticed the bag before. "You had that the whole time?" he asked but no reply came forth even after five minutes.
Julian placed the laptop on his lap and began to tap at the keys, the clicking of the keys breaking the silence of the car.
Denver, sensing that no one wanted to converse with him, pulled out his phone to entertain himself. Meanwhile, Dorian seemed to have dozed off, his head resting against the headrest of the seat.
Without taking his eyes off the laptop, Julian said, "Gray Junior, a photo of you at the airport has just been posted online by an account called Tasha Willows."
His voice was calm and businesslike. "I know you're not really asleep, so I'll go ahead and let you know that the photo was posted just a few seconds ago."
Dorian didn't stir, but Julian knew better than to believe that Dorian was actually asleep. He never fell asleep anywhere that is not home.
Dorian muttered something so softly that even Denver, who was sitting right next to him, could barely hear. Julian's sharp ears caught the words: "Take down the post and block the account that posted it."
Denver's brow furrowed. "Was that really necessary?" he thought to himself. "How did someone even manage to take Dorian's picture? He's notoriously hard to catch on camera."
He leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the post that had Dorian so worked up. But all he could see was the glossy black brogues that Dorian wore. Huh?
Denver's jaw dropped as he saw the picture. "Is this what you're so worked up about? Your feet?" He shook his head in disbelief. "It's not even a picture of your feet - it's just your shoes!"
Julian, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, let out a small smile. "I think that's the point, Denver," he said with a chuckle.
Denver couldn't let this go, not when he felt like it was such an overreaction on Dorian's part. "But if this was about Morgana, you wouldn't want Julian to delete the post, would you?"
He turned to Julian with a challenging look. "And did you see what Morgana posted recently? She told Dor's fans to get a life!" he added, his annoyance clear in his voice. "Don't you guys feel that Morgana is overusing her privilege?"
Julian nodded in agreement. "She definitely seems to be taking advantage of her privileges," he said. "But we're here now, so maybe we can get to the bottom of it."
Dorian grunted in response, clearly still simmering over the post that Morgana had made earlier.
He had allowed Morgana to post pictures of him without showing his face for a reason, but he felt like she was beginning to overstep her bounds. It was time to put an end to her privileges and make her pay for her current misdeed.
'Morgana has been skating on thin ice for a while now,' Dorian thought deviously. 'And it's time for her to pay the price for her actions.'
He opened his eyes to meet Julian's, his voice hard. "Let's see what kind of post she makes about me today. And then, we trace her from there."
Denver couldn't help but smile at the thought of Dorian and Julian's biases towards Morgana being smoothed out. He felt giddy with excitement, and decided to ask a favor of his own.
"Yolanda has requested that I get her a pink wig," he said. "Do you mind if we stop at Givens Spa & Spur Mall?" he asked, hoping for a positive answer.
Julian and Dorian were silent for a moment, and then Dorian hummed his approval.
Julian took this as an opportunity to voice his own request. "I need a new computer set for my work," he said. "I'd like to stop at a computer store before you two continue on."
Dorian didn't say a word, but Julian could tell that he had given his tacit approval. The two of them had known each other for a long time, and they were close friends.
He also knew that Dorian's silence was often a response in itself, and in this case and with such clear atmosphere, it meant 'permission granted.'