Jean-Phillipe and Yvette

[x-bevatron.livejournal.com]

Jean-Phillipe happens upon Yvette doing some carving, and they talk.



The weather had turned cold again, driving most of the mansion's residents back inside. Yvette, for her part, had been spending most of her free time outside. Not moping exactly, but she had to admit, it was easier to relax out of doors. Less chance of someone bumping into her and getting hurt, less need for the protective clothing. And with her skin, she was hard-pressed to feel the weather. Like today - even after a couple of hours spent sitting on the porch steps, working at trying to get the shape she wanted out of the piece of wood, she felt not much more than a slight chill on her extremities, despite the bitterly-cold air.

Making a small noise of frustration, she gently applied one bare finger to the face of the figure she was making. Her concentration was so intense, she didn't notice the sound of the door opening.

Jean-Phillipe paused in the doorway for a while, watching Yvette carve. Visible mutations fascinated him, since at least the time his cousin had discovered her mutancy, if not before. He also found the casual things other mutants could do with their powers for enjoyment to be equally interesting. "Bonjour, petite rouge," he called gently as he fished in his pockets for his cigarettes.

Yvette started, but only a little, and looked around. There was a brief flash of blue from her eyes. "Ah, to be excusing... I did not know you were there." She reached for her glove, lying on the step beside her, laying aside the carving carefully. "I do not think I have met you before, Mr. ...?"

"Colbert. But I am really too young to be 'mister'. Call me Jean-Phillipe." He smiled at her, then stepped closer to look at the carving while also carefully giving her personal space. "What are you carving?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, you are the one who came when we were in Japan, yes? You have the problems with the touching?" Yvette broke into a smile, long, flat curls bobbing slightly with her movements. "I am called Yvette - it is good to meet you, Mr... um, Jean-Phillipe." She tripped a little over the pronunciation, and calling him by his first name. Things were so informal here. "I am making the carving, for a friend who is not well. The wolf, although it is not working so well. I am still the learner." Glove in place, she picked up the carving and held it out to him. "If it is okay to be touching?"

"Judging from the gloves, I am guessing I am not the only one with touching problems," he replied gently, with a smile. He showed her his hand, a few small sparks dancing over it from the low-grade use of his power. "Those gloves look very sturdy, and even if not, most of the time my power does not harm very much. More like the static you get from touching a doorknob in the winter." He reached out to take the carving, turning it over in his hands and looking at it.

"Mr Forge, he made the material for the clothing for me. It fixes itself when it is cut, see?" As he took the carving she closed her hand into a fist, the material over her knuckles splitting and then mending itself almost immediately. "My skin, it is very sharp, and very strong. I do not think you could be hurting me, but I would be hurting you, if I was to touch you," she explained, voice falling a little. But she rallied. "There are others who are having the touching problems. Miss Marie, and my friend Kevin, they are wearing the gloves all the time too."

"I promise to be careful," Jean-Phillipe said gently but firmly. Mutation was a beautiful thing in its variety, but it was sometimes sad, the problems it imposed on people. It was easy to hear the wistfulness in Yvette's voice. He examined the carving and smiled. "I like it," he said simply. "Perhaps you will carve something for me when you are done with this?"

"Perhaps. When I am knowing you better." A slightly impish note entered Yvette's voice, and her eyes brightened. "I like to make the things that remind me of the people, so I would have to know what you are like, yes?"

"In that case, I shall do my best to be an open book to you, mam'selle," he said, his eyes crinkling around the edges and a matching grin on his face. "A small price to pay for a piece of art of my own."

She ducked her head at that, suddenly shy. One thing about being red already was people couldn't tell when she was blushing. "Oh, it is not so much the art, but thank you for saying it is so. Mr. Logan, he is much better than me, but I think he had the long time to learn. I am just to begin." She tilted her head at Jean-Phillipe. "You are to be the student? With the university? Or are you to be like Miss Jane, and working for Mr. Dayspring?"

"Working seems awfully like...well, work," Jean-Phillipe said airily. "I worked in a warehouse while I was in France before my power manifested. I think I would prefer to go to university, and take some time to have fun before worrying about being an adult. Sow my wild oats and so forth." He grinned.

Given some of the conversations she'd seen on the journals, he wasn't the only one sowing oats, wild or otherwise. "Well, you are in the right place, to be the university student and to have the fun," she said, with a little shrug. "Or to be the X-Man and save the world."

"Perhaps," he demurred. "But the world will still be there for saving when I am done having my fun, non?"