Morgan & Laurie, then Morgan & Jean-Paul

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Laurie wakes up to find out why alcohol shouldn't be toyed with excessively. Especially on your first time out.

Laurie wasn't entirely sure, but she was almost positive that something, some form of rodent perhaps, had crawled into her mouth and died during the night. She lay in the semi-darkness of the hotel room, and little gnomes seemed to take great delight in hammering at her skull with what seemed like tiny hammers.

"Nrgh" she said emphatically, as if the single word should explain everything.

It was about eight in the morning, which meant Morgan was awake and had been for a few hours. She'd kept the curtains closed because the light was likely to be unkind to Laurie's eyes when she woke. Also it helped keep the illusion that the motel room likely normally serviced those in the sex industry. "Morning, sunshine," Morgan answered quietly, trying to not potentially aggravate the headache she was sure her suitemate had.
"Mmph." Laurie replied, her head buried in her pillow, and trying very hard to banish the gnomes that had turned into dwarves with sharp axes the moment her suitemate started talking.

"Take the asprin next to the glass of water on the nightstand." The asprin were on a napkin because Morgan didn't trust the state of that table and whether or not it had been cleaned recently. "And drink the water. All of it." Sure, Laurie may have ended up throwing up the water, which was likely after she'd thrown up everything in her stomach a few times last night, but it would tell Morgan just how bad the hang over was if she did.

Laurie groped for the bedside table, attempting to do so without actually opening her eyes. It didn't work, unfortunately, and she had to eventually go looking for the glass. The headache doubled as even the small amount of light in the room seemed to hit the back of her brain and set up a steady pounding beat.

"Narg" she gasped and then took hold of the water, and grasped for the asprin before quickly placing one in her mouth, and taking a long drink of the other.

The poor kid, so ill prepared for what constituted a hang over. Morgan felt a little bad for her. Not too bad, though, since it was pretty much all of Laurie's making. Sure, she'd helped but she'd only done what Laurie had requested of her and partially as a lesson. "Still think a few drinks was a good idea, Peaches?"

"No." Laurie muttered darkly after having swallowed all the water. She rolled over onto her back and blinked up at the roof of the hotel room. She had perfect recall of everything she'd done the previous night and she groaned softly at the remembered text message to Jennie. That was going to be very hard to live down, especially after how often she'd gone on about underage drinking. "I think I may need to kill everyone involved, including myself. It's the only way to be sure all evidence of last night will remain buried for all eternity, you understand. Actually, how about you just chop of my head right now, I'll pay you money even. Lots and lots of wonderful, painfree money."

Morgan snorted. "I think you and I need to have a couple conversations. One involves the proper way to ingest alcohol so you don't wish your head would explode just so it feels better in the morning. Another involves healthy reactions and how much cooler you are when you're not a sheep. The third involves knowing your limits and self-awareness, but I guess that's applicable across a whole host of things and not just about alcohol." Morgan lounged in her chair, completely relaxed. "Once we get you rehydrated with some vitamin C and a whole lot of greasy breakfast food in you the hang over will be a lot more tolerable. That does mean you need to go out into the sunlight, though."

Laurie placed a hand against her forehead and glanced over at Morgan before attempting to roll over onto her stomach and then slide her legs off the bed. She somehow managed to snag the bedspread as she rolled and ended up on the floor of the hotel room, still feeling decidedly sorry for herself. It took her a few minutes of careful breathing and silent vows to never so much as touch alcoholic beverages again before she sat up and started searching about for her shoes.

She wasn't going to be able to do anything about a change of clothing, but she'd be able to take care of that once they got back to the mansion.

"Is greasy breakfast food meant to help? Or is that one of those cultural myths that's mostly just meant to earn other people money and give you a false sense of security or health? You know, like how bull testes are meant to make guys more virile or something."

Morgan was snickering. First because of her roomie's graceless departure from the bed, then because of her comments on bull testes. "Partial myth." She got up and walked over to Laurie, plopping down on the bed near her while she went about trying to locate something or other. Possibly her brain. "The vitamin C in orange juice will help you. Protein in eggs will make you feel better. The starch in home fries or similar potato-y things will help put something substantial in your stomach so it stops trying to churn so much. The grease just sort of comes with that stuff and it helps lubricate your insides, I guess. It's partially something that works because you expect it to because people tell you it will. Mind over matter, Peaches."

"Did you know I cure other people's hangovers?" Laurie noted with a certain wry dryness to her voice as she reached for the glass and then levered herself upward using the side of the bed. She desperately needed some more water, and then some of that orange juice. She wasn't entirely convinced about the whole 'outside' aspect of this supposed cure, but she'd have to trust Morgan about that.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever end up with one." Morgan kept her drinking to low enough levels that she didn't risk such consequences but there were always exceptions to the rule. She swung her legs happily as she sat on the bed, partially to be annoying to Laurie and her cranky mood, which was fully understandable to possess. "Maybe the cupcake should make nice with you for that one." Adrienne, on the other hand, might need someone to cure her hangovers.

"Monet discovered it. We were headed back from Attilan, right before the whole island disappeared. I can't use my power on myself though, so it does me about as much use as a really useless thing." Laurie noted, filling up her glass and then gulping the water down before pressing the slightly cool glass against her forehead. That felt a lot better, and she could almost feel her body celebrating the return of hydration that the water offered. She'd need electrolytes though, but she could get those later, at this greasy breakfast place. "Alright, I think I'm ready to tempt 'outside' now."

"I can use my powers on myself, so to speak. Pre-manifestation. Of course then I'm also fourteen or younger so fairly useless still." She shrugged. She'd had this morbid fascination with what she'd look like if she hadn't had the physical manifestation as well. It started when she'd gone back to the Carlysle house with Adrienne and she'd stolen everything pertaining to Vanessa from it. Pushing the thought aside, Morgan hopped up from the bed. "Do I need to blindfold you so your head doesn't explode?"

"I think I should be fine." Laurie noted with a snort, the sheer bizarreness of this whole event suddenly hitting her. "Well, there goes my moral highground."

Later, when Morgan is back at the mansion but before she runs into Sam she kills some energy on the archery range. Jean-Paul runs into her and eventually makes an awkward proposal.

Part of playing responsible adult after playing irresponsible adult had included a lot of sitting around doing nothing. It had made Morgan antsy and driving a car didn't use any muscles, unlike riding a motorcycle. Once Laurie had crawled back into her own bed, less hung over but still miserable, Morgan had grabbed her bow and quiver to head out to the archery range. She wasn't acclimated to cold so the fact that the archery range was outside made her pout to herself. She was wearing more layers than were likely needed and her shoulders came up to try to warm her ears a little more. Only Morgan's gloves were thin and even then she suspected they wouldn't do much to guard against the cold.

Crunching over the ground could be heard and while the woman kept an ear on it she mostly focused on the arrows she sent whizzing through the air to the target. The cold was making her tense and the tension was causing her aim to be off.

"You look as if you belong out here," Jean-Paul remarked over her shoulder. He was suited up for a workout himself, clad in his old black and silver Alpha Flight skinfit, the form-fitting costume a definite contrast to Morgan's cozy layers.

Morgan exhaled, shoulders drooping uncharacteristically the moment she saw her breath in front of her. "At the range? Yes. In the cold? No." She turned to see Jean-Paul standing there in...was that like a leotard? Red eyes blinked rapidly and her jaw visibly went a little slack. "And you are not dying of brr how?"

"Well, out in this landscape, anyway. You could not complement the season better if you tried." Jean-Paul seemed puzzled at her reaction for a moment, then remembered what he was wearing and cracked a smile, looking down at himself. "Ah. This. The cold hasn't bothered me since I was very young. This is warmer than it looks anyway. One of the advantages of being government funded in a past life."

Morgan's skin didn't red from the cold as some people's did, it paled. Between that and the white hair the Canadian had a point. "Maybe I should plan an attack on a small village in northern, eastern Europe and claim to be the Ice Queen or something," she joked. Why did she feel like Narnia was something she ought to be referencing here? If Morgan could manage to stay awake during movies for more than twenty nonconsecutive minutes at a time perhaps she'd have been able to recall why.

"I'm really hoping that by 'government funded' you mean they prodded you, implanted things in you and then they made you into their assassin. Anything else is going to have me Really disappointed."

"Surely somewhere they must be accepting applications for a winter goddess." Jean-Paul turned his attention to the targets for a moment, then back to Morgan. "I'm afraid I have little choice but to disappoint. Mostly, it meant paperwork, public appearances, paperwork, utter lack of privacy, suspensions, photo ops, more paperwork, and occasionally punching people and bits of mobile landscape for the public good."

"Wow that sounds," Morgan went fishing in her head for an appropriate word. She settled for two. "Annoying. And dull. Except for the punching bit, though I guess that could also be dull. How'd you end up a government funded paper pusher and puncher of things? Did you sign up envisioning glory or get recruited with a misleading tagline?"

"Oh, yes. Lots of training." Jean-Paul laughed softly. "You have struck it exactly, madame. Annoying. Most annoying." He picked up an arrow, examining it from point to fletching with idle curiosity. "When my sister joined, they did a background check, of course. The birth certificate said that she had a twin, but this was not something she knew of. They tracked me down and had their man offer me a position. I told them to piss off. That was when my sister came into the room and introduced herself; this went a long way toward changing my view of the offer. But, in their favor, I must confess that they did not misrepresent themselves. It was about as much fun as I expected." He looked up, arctic blue eyes meeting blood red. "You sound as if you know something about such matters yourself."

"Only indirectly. Well, directly but it wasn't me or my fate, just me wearing someone else's body. I never went for glory and my taglines were always along the lines of 'or else death.'" She shrugged. There was no sign of her feeling sorry for herself. "Death wasn't always in the literal, gun to the throat sense though. Just some of the time." Morgan watched him, examining his posture, the way he moved, even the way his eyes diverted focus from one thing to another.

"She didn't know she had a twin. Did you know that you had a twin? Why did her involvement change your mind, anyway?" The questions were genuine curiosity, but Morgan was also using them to distract herself from the cold. Her shoulders squared and she raised her bow after threading it. "I don't understand signing up for something you're sure you won't like if you get the choice," she told him before taking a deep breath. On the exhale she let the arrow fly. It was the first to hit the dead center.

"The harder side of government work. I never got so far." No pity or regret for either party in that. Jean-Paul stepped back, taking up position over Morgan's shoulder again as she drew a bead on her target, watching with that same intent, quiet interest as before. There was definitely something on his mind; no way had he just happened to stumble over her, but he seemed all right with observing and answering questions for the time being. "I didn't know I had a sister, no. I suppose I could have found out, but I had no interest in looking up my family's records." He inhaled deeply, gathering breath for the next part. It was a lungful. "I thought that my parents were long dead and that it was a good thing, but it turned out that the couple who I thought had been my parents were only blood relations of my mother who, along with my father, died not long after my sister and I were born. My adopted parents could only afford to take in one child; they left my sister with the state, and so we never knew each other. As for why I joined..." How many times had he asked himself that? "I had just had a very bad parting with the one person I thought I had left in the world and my sister was already very attached to the Flight program. I swallowed the bait and by the time I was ready to retch it back up again, I had discovered that she was mentally unstable. I suppose I had some dormant big brother instincts kick up and I stayed on, more or less."

Morgan wasn't sure what you said to something like that. She wouldn't give him pity or anything along the lines of poor Jean-Paul. Not only was she not really the sort but she didn't get the feeling he'd be particularly receptive either. "And now? Is she better, coping or institutionalized somewhere?" Maybe it was a bit personal but the woman rarely cared about that and if he was terribly uncomfortable with the question it wasn't like he couldn't divert attention to something else. Morgan glanced at him over her shoulder before pulling another arrow to string up.

Snow crunched under Jean-Paul's boot as he shifted his weight, relaxing slightly. The question was personal, but he could look at it in the realm of fact, not feeling. He was fine with that. "Coping...no. She took off a year ago, to try and find her own peace. I looked for her, but finding a speedster who does not want to be found is not so easy. I try to take it as a good sign. Surely someone would have identified a body by now if she'd turned up dead."

Morgan's mind immediately started pointing out situations in which no body would have been found where the outcome was decidedly bad. Jean-Paul, however, had been an amiable guy thus far and so she decided to take the high road and not mention any of them alive. "So you're both speedy and flighty? I didn't think mutation worked that similarly in genetics, even with twins."

"There are-were some variations. She was slightly faster, I had more endurance. For the most part, though, we started off very similar." A pause. Another deep breath. "Morgan. I was wondering how sincere your offer to show up in my room earlier was. And if you are currently seeing anyone."

Only years of practice in hiding reactions and emotions stopped her from actually choking. She wasn't entirely sure what was behind him saying that but she knew where her mind went concerning his intent. Her face showed nothing but she also didn't turn to face him because she was sure right now the fact she was trying not to facially react would be obvious. "I'm not seeing anyone," she told him casually, forcing her shoulders to relax so when she released the arrow it had a chance of getting near the target. She'd settle for on the target right now, the center completely irrelevant. "Though, I'm a bit more curious as to the reasoning behind your wondering."

"More hope than reason. Specifically, hoping that you find an offer of dinner and a night of athletic, no-strings-attached sex as a man appealing."

So her initial thought was accurate. Well, that made things interesting. What was going to be more interesting was both her response and her explanation of it. Morgan didn't have to school her features anymore by time she turned around to face him. "Actually, it's the no-strings-attached thing that's a problem for me. I don't know how much reading you may have done on the journals or how far you may have gone back but it's public knowledge that I was a whore after manifesting. What's not public knowledge is that after Aleister bought me from Madame, who ran the brothel I found myself in, I swore to never have sex for just the sake of sex again. Not when I got the choice." She didn't sound like she felt any more sorry for herself than she had before. In fact, her tone was almost dry and very matter-of-fact. "I don't find the idea of being someone's one off orgasm appealing. Spending your teenage years as that tends to ruin that a fair bit and I imagine that's not something unique to myself."

"I would imagine not." Jean-Paul wasn't blushing per se, but there was a faint hint of color to his cheeks that implied he might have been less collected about the offer than he'd sounded while Morgan was establishing her own control. "I did not know and I apologize for my carelessness. The obvious aside, I made the offer because from what I have seen, we get on well and I thought we might enjoy each other's company. There is a lot of enjoyable ground between business and serious, and I did not mean it to seem so far on the business side of things. I just...did not want to sound as if I would cling. That is one of my less endearing habits."

In an effort to lessen the awkward bouncing between the two of them Morgan grinned and playfully told him, "I don't know, I think you'd be a cute koala. As long as you don't go and get all vicious like I hear they do." Though she did step on the urge to see if she could get that hint of color to bloom a bit. It was hard to resist but she did it. Morgan put her bow down until the bottom rested on the ground and she leaned against it lightly. "It's not your fault and you weren't careless. No one said you had to go research my history before your proposition. I'm not bothered by my history, it's not some source for emo wrist cutting or anything. It's just there and it's had a few unchangeable effects. One of them is that I can't be interested by sex when it's utterly casual. The other is that sex as part of a job makes me cringe, among other reactions, and I've been in the position to have to deal with that plenty of times since leaving Madame."

"Understood. And I cannot deal with anything even approaching serious right now. Still...it seemed worth asking." An oddly shy smile tugged at the speedster's lips. "I don't suppose I could convince you to join me for dinner anyway?"

"As me or a guy?" The question should have sounded like she was offended but Morgan mostly sounded amused. A playful grin appeared on her lips at once. "Because if you're after the latter we're going to have to go shopping for someone you feel like staring at for the evening. And who is a size that will fit into men's clothing I've got around."