xp_logs | Jean-Paul, Manuel, Adrienne, Morgan & Callie

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Jean-Paul's trip to Silver results in dances with three unexpected partners.

Blazing lights swept across his vision, amplifying the tetrachomat's conception of colour through the blurr of sweating bodies clashing together. The base was distant compared to the emotional vibe he felt enveloping him by the masses. With his shields dropped, Manuel was intoxicated with an overload of predatory stimulation and excitement. There was no possible way to maintain his shields this long, especially against the hammering of so many and he didn't see the point, so long as he kept a loose focus on what he was absorbing as much as he was projecting.

With his partner turned away from him, his hand trailed down the side of her hips, spreading his fingers over her thighs in a crouch. The cane was an insignificant part of him fixed into the floor, turned into an extension of his arm whenever he could take his weight off his other leg and counter balancing her weight when she shifted away. The woman whirled to face him, burnette locks bouncing in a sweep of curls and she slid against him, raking her fingers through his hair. Her forehead touched his and lips parted, the bottom dragging over his, curling into a smile. Earlier, alcohol had burned his throat, but now, the sweet aftertaste remained and a curious tongue locked into his mouth, reliving the drink that passed through only awhile ago.

Abruptly, Manuel turned his head, breaking away the kiss and the burnette's rhythm fumbled. Where they meshed so well only a second ago, their bodies moved differently now. She frowned in her dance, the space between them growing cold. The question was written all her face, but Manuel only shook his head and gestured behind him.

The woman followed his gesture with her eyes, but apparently saw nothing that explained Manuel's sudden reluctance...or perhaps she just wasn't in a mood to take rejection gracefully. She moved close against him again, hands settling firmly on his hips and pulling him against her again. She was far stronger than her willowy appearance suggested and Manuel found himself held firmly against her body. Warm, dulcet tones murmured in his ear as she shifted her hold, a hand sliding boldly between his legs to secure a far more sensitive hold as her other hand trailed up into his hair.

"Don't worry," she teased, fingernails playing lightly over his scalp, "I'll fight 'em for you."

The only hand free gripped her wrist to intercept the hold but her strength was far superior to his. Inhaling a sharp breath, Manuel smiled and his whole body tightened to that firm place where her hand so eagerly gasped. "Senora," he started, knuckles whitening over the handle on his cane. "You should let it go if you require it to function," he hissed out in a cool warning, pulling his emotions in and emotionalizing his shield, one layer at a time. His tongue rolled in his mouth and an unease grin spread over his face, unbearingly uncomfortable to stand here with his balls hiked up inbetween his legs.

"Have you gotten yourself into trouble again, chere?" Somehow, Jean-Paul had managed to materialize at Manuel's shoulder. "I can't turn my back on you for..." A frown spread over the Canadian's features as he looked down at the woman's handful, an edge creeping into his voice. "Would you mind terribly taking your hands off of my partner?"

The woman blinked, then stepped back, whipping her hand from Manuel's cock as if she'd just heard that it was radioactive. Jean-Paul slipped a possessive arm around Manuel's waist as the woman withdrew into the crowd, muttering under her breath and giving Manuel a dirty look as she left.

"Still feel like dancing?" the speedster asked casually, releasing his hold, "Or shall we try to find a table?"

"Thank you. I find I am suddenly craving personal space. Another drink perhaps? Then dance. I am not finished yet," Manuel commented, smoothing out a crease in his maroon shirt. He gestured Jean-Paul forward and followed the path carved through the crowd.

Once at the bar, Manuel pulled out cash and gestured to the bartender, who was busy pouring several drinks at once. "This is on me," he said, leaning into Jean-Paul so he could hear him better. "--For sparing future generations from being thwarted." With his shields firmly in place, he was more sound of mind, yet found he was fairly buzzed. Earlier, he had thought it was his powers, but apparently not.

"You didn't look as if you were enjoying yourself," Jean-Paul remarked, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. He was in mid-calf boots, a dark shirt with a pattern of ellipsis cut-outs climbing his torso, and a pair of jeans that hugged his calves and thighs. He ordered his usual cranberry juice and leaned on the bar. "Well, not after the kiss, anyway."

"Mm, yes, dancing is mezmorizing." He offered the man money after another scotch was brought and left the change to tip. He brought his drink to his lips, swirling the glass and pausing to smell if it a freshly opened bottle or something that had been sitting for awhile , as the last few drinks had been lacking in luster.

"The kiss--" he added, "--was one into its own. It was certainly tantalizing enough to awaken, however, she was not _that_ good." He caught sight of a table being abandoned and headed towards it before it was abandoned.

Jean-Paul obligingly cleared another path. He'd given dancing a try himself and had found that he preferred to watch the dizzying parade of Silver's clientele.

"You keep surprising me," Jean-Paul remarked as they sat. "You're one of the last people I'd have expected to see here."

Manuel hooked his cane on the side of the table and eased into the chair carefully, obvious that he was still feeling the aftermath of that grip. "Having some control of your powers sets in an axiety to get out and move a little more. In a situation like this, it is very easy to lose myself in the positive energy. The good outweighs the bad."

He leaned back, toying with the rim of his glass, as was habit and eyes Jean-Paul now that he was comfortable. "I did not think you would come. Was the couch uninviting tonight?"

"I was feeling restless and there's only so much working out I can do before I wind up paying the school for another speed bag." Jean-Paul shrugged. "And I was curious to finally see this place. I've heard much about it, and I have not seen the city proper since Day Zero. Certainly not from the ground."

"Most come here to dance and be with ones like them." He paused to take in the smooth golden liquid and raised his eye brows, lapping at his tongue and set the drink down. "Their selection has not improved much." His tongue brushed over the top of his mouth, salivating at the thought of getting some water to wash it down. Clearly they had opened another bottle. A cheaper one. "You've dressed well tonight. Quite the jump from your usual dreary."

"Are you implying that I am not a unique gift from the gods, monsieur, to say that there are others like me?" Jean-Paul smirked and drained his glass. One nice thing about being a lightweight - you didn't have to worry overmuch about the vintage of your drink. "And I am not dreary. I am tasteful. But when in Rome, dress for vomiting and orgies." Jean-Paul glanced up appreciatively as the music changed again. The DJ was one thing he could not complain about tonight.

"Not implying. A fact, Senor. You are talking to a god, therefore, your daily attire would be considered offensive if I had set you on this earth, as you would be reflecting me." Manuel's hand snapped at a waitress and he gestured for her to come closer. Reaching into his black slacks, he produced some money, whispering in her ear. She promptly took the two glasses away.

Jean-Paul affected a stricken expression. "What a terrible thought. I believe I shall remain an atheist."

Manuel turned his face away, brushing a hand over the corners of his mouth, upturned in the laughter spilling from his lips. His gaze returned, rather amused. "A shame my powers are only empathy and not lightning. What is man without his God?"

"Less guilt-stricken, for one thing. And not on his knees nearly as often." The waitress arrived with their drinks and Jean-Paul took his with a nod of thanks. "I far prefer being answerable only to myself and those who have earned my respect."

This time, he gestured for the waitress to wait and tried his drink. It was not as bad as the other and nodded, allowing her to leave. "Wise, although those who have earn respect do not necessarily always mean you well. Let us not talk of this," he said, waving his hand dimissively. "Men fight for two things, territory and religion, both which are greedy for money."

"As a whole, mankind is a grasping creature, but as individuals we can be surprising." Jean-Paul's gaze wandered back to the dance floor. The press of bodies that had prompted his initial excursion seemed less appealing now. "Do you require me to play lifeguard when you head back out there?"

Manuel finished half his drink before he responded, following Jean-Paul's gaze. "If I want out of here alive, then yes. I was dragged on the dance floor earlier. I believe I must inflict a similar pain on someone else before I am allowed to leave. Are you not up for the challenge?" His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for his previous bodyguards, but they were lost into themselves. "See?" he pointed to the general crowd and several mansion residents were within it, but it was not easy to point out which one he was referring to exactly.

Jean-Paul laughed at the blatant attempt at manipulation, a low, pleasant sound. "I stopped falling for that trick some years ago, Manuel, and I do not see anyone out there who needs my company. If you would like me to go back out with you, that is fine, but I don't have anything to prove here. I am only dressed like bait, not actually looking to land anyone."

"Considering some dancing is like having sexual relations in public, you may not get away with simply looking like bait." Manuel finished off his glass and leaned back, letting it settle into his stomach. His hand slid lazily across the table, the slow signs of the alcohol slipping into place and he picked up his cane.

"Shall we?" he asked.

---

"Heya, handsome," Adrienne purred, sidling up to Jean-Paul's table at Silver and balancing her ass on a corner of it. "Did you know that I am the goddess of Fashion Week, Day One? I believe I should be worshipped accordingly. You look fantastic tonight, by the way." She gestured around the room. "Everyone looks fantastic." It was possible that not all of her drinks tonight had been virgins.

It was hard to argue with that statement. Manuel had gone to the men's room and Jean-Paul had retreated back to their table, going back to simply observing. He didn't consider it wasted time. Silver's assembled clientele was quite a sight and not at all hard on the eyes.

"You're looking quite well yourself," Jean-Paul remarked, offering the woman looking down at him a cautious smile. "Care to have an actual seat?"

"Umm..." Adrienne thought about it for a moment, "no, I don't. Because..." she leaned in close to whisper in Jean-Paul's ear, "if I sit down, I might not get back up." The energy she'd been running on for the entire day was beginning to run out. "Have you been out on the dance floor tonight, Sexy?"

"Many times, keeping Manuel out of trouble." Jean-Paul laughed. "And if you've had enough to flirt with me, perhaps you should have a seat at that. I promise, if you absolutely must get back to your feet, I will assist."

"How come I haven't seen you?" she asked, frowning in confusion. "Maybe the speedster was dancing too fast for me?" She'd been dancing with Manuel herself, even, keeping an eye on him. How had she missed watching the two very attractive men dancing? "How did I miss you and Manuel dancing together? You two are like, incredibly drool-worthy. If I didn't think he'd beat me with his cane, I'd ask Manuel to model for me too. Do you know that the mutants around here are really sexy?"

"I think I have missed part of this conversation." Jean-Paul really did not like having to lean back in his chair to have a conversation. After a moment's thought, he rose to his feet, scooped Adrienne off of the table and sat down with a lapful of somewhat tipsy mutant. "Now, why are we talking about modeling and sexy mutants, hm?"

Adrienne gave Morgan a little finger wave and beamed from JP's lap. "Morgan put it in my head. Modeling and sexy mutants. I could do that. A photo shoot. You could be my male headliner, Slick."

"I thought we both agreed against photographing me in my underwear." Jean-Paul followed Adrienne's line of sight, spotted Morgan, then quickly looked away. "Though I suppose if it's sexy mutants you're after, there's no shortage of them at the school."

"Swimsuit?" Adrienne asked, eyebrow raised hopefully, nuzzling her cheek against Jean-Paul's. "If the proceeds went to charity?"

"A bit scarred up for swimsuits. Business casual, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Adrienne replied, drawing out the second syllable playfully. "I feel like dancing," she proclaimed, wrapping her arms around Jean-Paul's neck. "I'm not flirting with you," she pointed out, addressing his earlier statement, "I just want to dance. I like dancing." And she liked that she didn't have to worry about him being interested in her sexually. "And I like to get what I want. Come dance with me, Slick? Tell me more about this business casual idea of yours on the dance floor?"

Jean-Paul shook his head, but allowed himself to be towed out toward the dance floor again. "You have to explain to Manuel why we lost the table."

"I'm not afraid of Manuel," she laughed, dragging Jean-Paul through the press of bodies onto the dance floor. "Can I dress you in Armani?"

"That depends." Jean-Paul found himself flush against Adrienne's back in a moment, wondering if they'd actually have room to move this time. "How much Armani?"

---

Manuel had called a cab and taken off a few minutes ago. Jean-Paul's first impulse had been to follow his example and head home, but he wasn't quite tired yet. This was enough of a novelty that he decided to celebrate with an actual drink before leaving. He wove his way through the crowd at the bar, throwing a casual elbow into the side of a young man who needed to keep his hands to himself, and signaled the bartender.

Morgan was twisting the cap off of a bottle of water she'd just paid for when the new body next to her at the bar caught her attention. Glancing over to her right, she saw it was Jean-Paul and she had to consider running away before he could see her. That was cowardly, though, and she wasn't really one to pride herself on instances of cowardice. She had seen him, of course, dancing with Manuel during the night but she also noted Manuel wasn't here. "Extrapolated yourself from you man of the evening?" Her voice was light, friendly and casual. Their issues were their issues, they belonged between the two of them and she wasn't going to air dirty laundry or make a scene in public.

Her tone was met with a wry half-smile. "I had no designs on him, trust me. It simply seemed safer for everyone that I make sure no one else did either." Jean-Paul's screwdriver materialized and he let the crowd nudge him aside. "Enjoying yourself?"

Morgan was drenched in sweat, her ponytail sticking to her back which also had her cut off tank top sticking to her skin. "I feature Manuel being able to handle himself, but, hey, there are worse ways to keep others off you." She gave him a grin. "Gorgeous man on you? Only risk there is being propositioned for a threesome." She took a step back from the bar so someone else in desperate need of alcohol could slide up to the bar for attention. "Aye, but I always do when I dance. You know that." She'd dragged him out dancing only once but the effect was always the same for Morgan no matter what kind of dancing it was: ecstatic happiness.

Jean-Paul laughed softly. He was dressed for clubbing himself -- new boots, jeans that clung adoringly to his skin, and a dark shirt with a spiral of cut-outs circling his torso.

"The risk was minimal at best. I don't think I'm his type." He drained his drink, then offered her another smile, more sincere this time. "I do know that. Care to head back out?"

"I wouldn't think he's your type either. Manuel's not really interested in anyone, in that sense." Though maybe the world had upended itself again and he had pulled a one-eighty on that front since she'd last spoken to, or rather argued with, him.

The question brought a smile to her face, one that belonged to Vanessa and not to Morgan. She suspected Jean-Paul could spot the difference even if he didn't understand the distinction completely. "With you?" Half her bottle of water was downed to rehydrate herself, the rest was poured over her head. Hey, she was hot.

"Absolutely with me." He was at her shoulder in a moment, laughing as he got caught the edge of the splash, and planting a playful peck on her cheek. "It's my last dance of the night. I shouldn't throw it away on just anyone."

Sliding the empty bottle onto the bar for the tender to get, Morgan slipped her hand into Jean-Paul's. "I'm honored, mi corazón." He got another smile before she spoke directly into his ear, "I've missed you." And she knew it was her own reasons why she had not seen him since Daniel had proved too distracting the day she'd brought the picnic to Jean-Paul's suite. With her hold on his hand, Morgan began to thread her way through people to get back to the dance floor.

---

Manuel heads home in his cab but instead of admitting he is too drunk to pick up his sister, he asks Callie if Valentia can stay there

Resting his head against the warm backseat of the cab, Manuel pulled off a glove and covered his mouth to yawn. His back felt nothing but relief from the strain of having to hold him up on the dance floor the majority of the night. The joints in his hip throbbed and he knew that the muscle in the thigh was slowly tightening into a cramp. Resting his head back, he closed his eyes, slowly listening to the ringing in his ears climb steadily in pitch and pulled out his phone, dialling Callie's cell phone.

The rattling of her cell phone on the side table to her bed caused Callie to stir from her slumber. Who could be calling her at this hour, she thought as she grabbed the device and headed out of her room so as not to wake the sleeping child in the other bed. "Hello," she whispered as the door closed behind her, leaving a small opening in case Valentia needed her.

"Callie. Sorry to disturb you. Is Valentia okay?" he asked and followed up with another question. "Did she go to sleep fine?" His eyes shifted and he watched the night go by, lights dragging lazily in a haze.

"It's fine." She knew that at one point he would call and let her know that he was on his way back, which was why her phone had been on vibrate rather than silent. Callie leaned against the wall, and took a quick glance back into her bedroom. "She's fine. She went to bed without fussing and she's sound asleep. Are you on your way home?"

"Yes I am. If she is asleep, please do not wake her. I would prefer it if she had a full night's sleep without disruption. It will not interrupt any of your plans tomorrow morning if I leave her there?" he asked. "I will pick her up early."

Callie stifled a yawn, and upon regaining her ability to speak replied with: "No that's fine. What time should I set my alarm for?"

"Six o'clock. She usually wakes by seven but I shall get her early so you can sleep in." He lifted a hand and pressed his fingers to his closed eyes, resisting the urge to sleep right there. "I will see you then, yes?"

"Yes sir. Would you mind calling or texting instead of knocking? I don't want my suitemates to get angry at me for costing them their Saturday lie-in."

"I will call before I come. Thank you and goodnight Callie."