Template:Featured Articles/12-2018

Moment of Awesome: Warren Worthington/Angel: Following Quentin Quire's death and resurrection, Warren hosts a 'wake' for X-Factor's erstwhile employee. It was appropriately sunny. Warren thought it would have made Quentin's heart glad to see the golden streaks in Warren's hair. His hairdresser really had outdone herself. He looked around the group and gave a somber nod. "Thank you for coming here today. I thought it only fitting that we pay our respects to poor, departed Quentin. Now, I quickly read a Psychology Now article on grief, and I think I can safely say I'm an expert. Remember everyone, hallucinations are a perfectly normal reaction to loss. We might hear, see or even touch Quentin but he's not here. Not in the way that matters or affects my bank account." Warren reached up and touched a hand to his heart. "So sad." The man in question was standing in a corner, arms folded and leaning against the door. He did not know what game Worthington was playing at, but this joke was going to get stale quickly. Better nip it in the bud before then. Alex raised an eyebrow, looking at Warren, then back at Quentin, then Warren again. Oh, what the hell. "Yeah, so very sad," he agreed solemnly. "I can almost still see him, you know." "It's as if his presence lingers on, watching over us. Almost as if we've got our own guardian angel," Sue agreed as an amused smirk pulled at her lips, her blue eyes twinkling with laughter. "I never knew he cared so much." "I just hope he will rest in peace soon. Though our lives will be less colorful with him gone." Hope stated earnestly, her face smooth and her hands neatly folded in her lap as she ignored the man standing in the corner. POP. Lorna had her arms crossed as she was chewing her bubble gum. "Now I am the only one with the odd colored hair." "You all are a bunch of dicks," Bobbi said as she leaned on the building's edge and looked out over the rooftop at their surroundings below, arms crossed and back on to most of them. There was a hint of a smirk on her face just the same, however. "Seriously," Quentin agreed. "What the actual fuck, assholes. This is some lame-ass Tom Sawyer shit." "Now, I've been compared to a lame Tom Sawyer before," Warren continued, his voice booming, "but he had no money, so that's a terrible comparison." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a few things. "I thought it only fitting to sacrifice a few things in QQ's memory." First, a flask, which he poured out on the ground. "Jack Daniels, for the bottom shelf guy he was." He lit a joint and ashed it on the ground, offering it to the circle. "Another one for my homie. Finally, my stash will be safe." And lastly, his credit card, which he cut into little pieces. "Quentin's favourite credit card. I'll miss all his Sexxcapades purchases. They were always more questionable than my own." "Now that's just extra cruel," Quentin moaned. Without his telepathy, how was he supposed to access Warren's accounts now? That three-grand Givenchy bomber jacket would never be his.