xp_logs | Nathan and Jean-Paul, Friday

A few hours after this log. Nathan wanders outside and runs into Jean-Paul, who can't help but note how frayed his friend is.

It was the sort of day where it was impossible to get comfortable anywhere. He had textbooks to vet, but inside was too warm and stuffy to concentrate. Also, it was full of people. Outside was too bright, but at least more sparsely populated if you took the right steps.

Jean-Paul had solved his problem by finding a suitable tree. The leaves had long since fallen, but the branches were sturdy enough to support one mutant and associated baggage.

A telekinetic could be remarkably silent when they weren't actually walking on the remains of dead leaves. Or physically climbing a tree. Nathan floated up into view, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Jean-Paul engrossed in his textbooks.

"Psst."

The Quebecois startled and only a lucky grab saved "Grimm Brothers and the Germanic Past" and a much-abused notebook from taking a tumble to the ground.

"That's cheating, Dayspring!"

"Look up telekinetic in the thesaurus. 'Cheat' is one of the first synonyms." Nathan eyed the book. "I should teach something next term," he said, somewhat wistfully.

"A man who cannot even climb a tree properly shouldn't be trusted with impressionable youths," Jean-Paul grumped, stuffing his books into the surprisingly glittery messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. He swung off the branch and joined Nathan in his hover. "But, assuming we can correct this character flaw, what were you thinking?"

Nathan shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It was just a thought. I probably don't have the time anyway." He drifted a little to the left and upwards, one hand reaching out to a branch to steady himself.

"Home economics, perhaps?" Jean-Paul smirked a bit. "Rethinking directions?"

Nathan made a face at him. "You mock. But I used to be a good teacher. Until I decided to dump it - mostly - for humanitarian work." He floated back towards the ground. "I like doing the independent courses with students, but it feels like I'm just dabbling."

"Definitely rethinking directions." Jean-Paul followed him down. "Not the worst thing, but what brought this on?"

Nathan gave him a half-smile, all that was comfortable with his face still bruised. "What, you mean it's not normal to constantly reassess what you're doing and want to run off and join the circus?" He shrugged. "Actually, my dream escape is generally moving to Muir, living off Moira and what's left of my inheritance from my evil father, and doing nothing but chasing Rachel around all day." The note of longing in his voice was hard to miss.

"And it would be so terrible and selfish to be full-time father and to teach part-time via correspondence?" Jean-Paul touched down lightly. "Not that I wish to deprive myself of your sunshiney visage, mon brave, but still...family is family, and having one you can be happy with is a rarity around here."

"I don't think I'm cut out to be a house-husband. And there's Elpis -call it my second child, I suppose," Nathan said with a faint smile. "I just... well, I guess I'm restless this week. This fall just won't quit, you know?"

Jean-Paul stopped long enough to take a good look at his friend --bruised and still looking bone-tired, despite having had enough recoup time to get itchy feet. "Yes, though from the sidelines only. Nathan, take some time. Go home, get some real sleep. Let someone else be the madame's chew toy for a bit."

"She's settled down," Nathan said, almost in protest. "She's just... I don't mind, although maybe Angelo's right and I ought to send her to Muir for some mothering. Maybe Moira would do better with this than me." He fell into a pensive silence, shuffling his feet in the dead leaves. "My judgement is just absolutely shot lately," he said under his breath. "Ship us both off to Muir, and Moira can mother Dom and keep me away from sharp objects and the fate of countries..."

"If you want someone to hover over you, there's no use in you going anywhere," Jean-Paul teased. "You can get that here. That is less a change of pace than a change of scenery."

"Gah, I'm sniveling," Nathan said after a moment, more briskly. His eyes were still shadowed, though. "I suppose it's not a surprise I have no gas left in the tank. If I tally up the year..." A slightly wild-sounding laugh escaped him. "Wow, let's not do that."

"No, let's not." Jean-Paul considered. "You have nothing planned this weekend, do you? Just recovery and trying not to kill old friends who are crippled?"

Nathan seemed to have to think about that for a minute. "... no," he finally said. "Office has just started up again, really, so we have none of the weekend meetings... honestly, I don't have the energy for much at this point anyway." He gave a tired shrug. "That's why I have minions."

"Excellent. Let your minions do their work; I claim your time for myself."

"No more shopping, though. Not that our last trip was an ordeal," Nathan said, almost grudgingly, "but the Christmas crowds are getting a little much."

Jean-Paul held up his hand solemnly. "I swear on my mother's grave, no more shopping until after the holidays. This is to get you to de-stress."

"Oh, so, now I hear the truth about the shopping. I thought you were having a little fun at my expense." But there was a little life in the response that hadn't been there before.

"Shush. You -- some part of you, anyway -- enjoyed yourself and you know it." Jean-Paul could banter in his sleep; the rest of his mind was currently engaged in plotting.