The Wedding Planner

Chapter 21

~ 1 Month Later~

The door buzzes electronically, followed by the clank of the reinforced door opening.

He nervously straightens the 'Visitor' name tag pinned to his button up shirt, his blazer draped over his arm. It had been hard for him to clear his schedule for this, especially when deep down he didn't want to be here, doing the thing he's about to do. But he had to, at least that's what he told himself.

The guard gestures for him to take a seat, three compartments down from the other person marked 'Visitor'. The woman is tearsome, middle aged, a tissue seemingly pressed into place up against her nose as she touches the glass between her and, most likely, her husband, who gazes regretfully through the glass.

"He'll be out in a moment." The guard prompts him, catching him off guard a bit.

Adrien nods and takes his seat, clasping his hands in his lap. Turning to the attentful guard, he asks, "Does Gabriel Agreste get many visitors?", trying not to let his eyes linger on the gun holstered on his hip.

He shrugs and shakes his head, "This one lady with glasses and a pantsuit used to come regularly, but haven't seen her in years." He states factually, no emotion behind his words.

Adrien nods, turning back to the glass and visually inspecting the old phone receiver hung up on the wall of his sectioned off 'private compartment'; a similar, more beaten up phone hanging on the other side of the glass as well.

His foot taps on the linoleum floor, wishing he had his phone to distract himself with, but that and his other belongings had to be put in a locker at visitor check-in. The fluorescent lights softly buzz, but becomes more and more apparent the longer he sits.

A door opens on the other side, a guard ushers in Gabriel Agreste. Adrien's breath catches in his throat, never having seen his father like this before.

Even without his designer suits and glasses, both being replaced by prison issue alternatives, Gabriel seemingly tries to take care of his appearance otherwise. Still clean shaven with his hair slicked back as the only resemblance to how he used to be. But even those things were not perfect, a few strands of hair ran awry, where before Gabriel wouldn't have allowed himself to be seen in such 'disarray', as Adrien remembers him putting it.

The beige jumpsuit washed out everything about him, hanging over his slim frame as he takes a seat without meeting Adrien's eyes.

Adrien hesitates to pick up his end of the receiver, but inevitably holds the phone to his ear, watching Gabriel reluctantly do the same.

"Father." He regards plainly.

Gabriel lifts his head to look at his son, "I see your posture has regressed. Do attempt to sit up straight, why don't you" He says stoically.

Adrien automatically reacts to his father's comment, muscle memory kicking in as he pushes his shoulders back to straighten his spine. But he catches himself doing this, forcing his body to relax back into his less rigid state. "Is that all you have to say to me right now? Criticizing my posture like I'm a child?"

"Well I seemingly should have done it more when you were one." He snaps, his own body unmoving and still, while Adrien's knee bounces under the table.

Adrien closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, "I didn't come here for your feedback on my posture."

"Then why did you come?" He leans forward in his seat, "You know, they keep us well informed behind these bars; newspapers, the occasional magazine floats around. And it seems you've made quite the impression on the public with the company I left you. And that girl you've run off with, a surprising choice to say the least."