Jean-Philippe and Jean-Paul for Tuesday morning

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Jean-Paul and Jean-Philippe exchange small talk and cigarettes, and Jean-Paul admires the...scenery.



A cold autumn rain had begun to mist down over Westchester late in the morning and seemed determined to linger. With the stubborn single-mindedness of a dedicated athlete, Jean-Paul had been determined to go on his planned run nonetheless. It was for lesser men to be deterred by a drizzle too anemic to even qualify as a proper storm.

Hail, on the other hand...

Barely an hour into his work-out, Jean-Paul retreated back to the porch of the mansion, ice pelting down on his heels as he muttered his general disgust with the outdoors in general. The sound of the door opening caused him to look up just in time to avoid a collision with the young man heading outside himself. There was a moment of uncertain balance for both, and he had to reach for the other's shoulder to steady himself.

"Excuse me. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be heading out into this."

"J'excuse," Jean-Phillipe murmured automatically as he stepped to move around the person in his way. He'd been laying low since the events in New York City, but even so he got cabin fever, not to mention the need to have a cigarette, and sneaking one out his window didn't appeal. He was looking down and fishing in his pockets for a lighter when he realized who it was he had run into. ~Be calm, Jean-Phillipe,~ he told himself. ~Do not behave like a silly fifteen-year-old with a crush.~ Even if Jean-Paul Beaubier had been his very first celebrity crush when he -had- been fifteen...

A small, unconscious smile quirked the corner of Jean-Paul's mouth at the answering French.

"Jean-Philippe, isn't it?"

Jean-Phillipe had to restrain himself from exclaiming over the fact that Jean-Paul knew his name. ~You introduced yourself on the journals, you idiot,~ he told himself. Well, actually his cousin had given his name first because he'd been too busy sitting in his room trying not to behave like a drooling idiot, with marginal success. "Oui. And you are Monsieur Beaubier, of course." As if the other man wasn't recognizable from all the time he'd spent in the public eye.

"One of the down sides of fame: most people have you at a disadvantage on first meetings." Jean-Paul dropped easily into French, happy for the excuse to do so. Even after so much time, his English still sounded awkward to his own ears. A fresh spate of hail on the roof prompted him to give the weather beyond the porch railings another death glare. "So what brings you out into this misery, if you don't mind me asking?"

Jean-Phillipe pulled his packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, shook them slightly, and gave a Gallic shrug. "Nicotine." The porch was sheltered enough that he wouldn't suffer the worst of the hailstorm and rain, but the cutting wind would likely not be pleasant. Still, it was a habit, and one that was difficult to break even if he wanted to.

"We all have our vices." Jean-Paul wasn't bothered by the temperature himself, and was loathe to make a total retreat from the elements. He leaned against the nearest column, watching hailstones bounce over the grass. "Are you here as a student?"

"I am taking some university classes," Jean-Phillipe replied slowly. He wasn't sure whether he was still going to be taking them soon, or not. Which was a shame, because he had actually started to enjoy the learning despite that it had been as a ruse to give him another reason to be at the mansion.

The hesitancy in the young man's tone tweaked Jean-Paul's interest and distracted him from his internal debate on whether or not to steal one of Jean-Phillipe's cigarettes.

"Best to get that over with while you're still young," he commented mildly. "I learned the hard way that the longer you wait, the more difficult it is to fit schooling in around the rest of your life."

Jean-Phillipe couldn't help a wry snort at that. Depending on how events played out, he could potentially find it difficult to fit just about -anything- around the rest of his life. Being put in a small isolation cell would definitely have an adverse effect on that.

Jean-Paul shrugged a bit. "Cliche, but true." He glanced over to Jean-Phillipe. "Spare a smoke?"

"Certainly." He shook out the package, extending a single cylinder towards Jean-Paul. Then, because he was in a slight mood to show off for the man that had been his first crush, he held out his butane lighter, but instead of striking the flint to light it, he extended a finger and sent out a carefully metered spark.

"Thanks. I always seem to backslide into bad habits in the company of young men." Jean-Paul took a deep pull off of the cigarette and exhaled, slowly relaxing. Filthy habit, but he couldn't resist the smell of the smoke and it soothed him from wastes of energy such as holding grudges against the weather. Mostly. "You're a pyrokinetic?"

Jean-Phillipe lit his own and shook his head, taking a drag and rather visibly relaxing. "No, electro," he corrected Jean-Paul. "A bit of a parlor trick, but one does not exactly need a flint when one can provide the spark." And now he was almost a bit embarrassed, and he ducked his head and took another drag to cover it.

"Not unless you feel like letting the machinery do the work for you. I rarely do, myself. Much easier to fly Air Beaubier than than to deal with other people." Jean-Paul chuckled softly. "I'm almost sorry that I can't feel the cold now. One of the little pleasures of winter is being able to appreciate getting in out of it."

Jean-Phillipe bit back a host of entirely inappropriate and sexually-tilted comments that he could have made, especially after watching Jean-Paul's lips purse around the cigarette. He shifted his hips slightly and nodded. "I am not truly an outdoors type of person, but I agree, that warmth after being in the cold is definitely enjoyable."

"I suppose it's easier to be the outdoors sort when the world outside your door can only do so much to you, hm?"

"Perhaps." That made sense to Jean-Phillipe, at least. People like Kyle Gibney had mutations that practically enforced outdoorsiness on them. For himself, he enjoyed the amenities of civilization too much, such as running water, comfortable beds, television, cigarettes...

"And then there are those of us who would flip off ten thousand years of common sense and go running in the rain just to be contrary." Jean-Paul stretched a little. He knew that he see to a proper cool down, but he couldn't be bothered. He felt as if he'd hardly had the chance to work up a proper sweat anyway and he was enjoying his smoke. The view wasn't anything he was eager to get away from either.

"Contrary. That is one way of putting it." Jean-Phillipe imagined Marie-Ange would have another way of putting it, at least where he was concerned. Though from the exchange she had had with Jean-Paul, perhaps she felt the same way about the Canadian speedster. She was certainly...prickly even at the best of times.

"Well, there is also 'idiotic', 'madman', and 'tempting fate', but it seemed easiest to go in alphabetical order." The older man smiled a bit and moved to douse his cigarette butt in the runoff from the roof. As much as his eyes wanted to linger, the rest of him was getting restless for the gym and it was probably for the best anyway. "Thanks again. Hopefully I'll see you around."

Jean-Phillipe certainly hoped so. "Au 'voir."