xp_logs | Manuel & Jean-Paul

Manuel is relieved for the duration of morning cartoons and comes across Jean-Paul's open door.

While he had nothing better to do but lounge around the suite, stomaching Kyle's choice of Saturday morning cartoons, it was decided that he should go down into the kitchen and make something for himself. It was very unlikely that he was going to make something to eat, instead, carried a herbal tea in hand along with a freshly bought infuser. He would have stayed on his course had a specific unpleasant signature not pull at his senses and his curiosity. It was always those negative emotions that drew him, luring like a fly to shit. He found himself at the door of the Quebecois and knocked briefly, half expecting a 'go away' much like he got when he saw Lillian.

What he got instead was precisely nothing, not even a flicker of irritation in the emotional signature that would have marked an acknowledgment of his presence. The door was open just a hair, however.

Odd that it was open. No, correction, odd that Jean-Paul's door was open. It was a habit he expected from one of the teenagers who enjoyed blaring music from their suit and sharing it with the other twenty residents who slept on their floor. Pushing the door open, Manuel knocked again, letting himself inside.

"Jean-Paul."

The speedster was asleep on his couch, a book on the floor beside him. He was pale with a spot of irritated skin on his left cheek and did not look particularly well. As Manuel approached, he opened his eyes and blinked several times.

"You are standing over me with tea. Whatever you mean to do with it, I think this dream is about to get very strange."

"I assure you, if this was a dream, it would be very different," he said without a hint of humour. "I mean to make a drink out of it and since you are looking rather...poor, perhaps you would enjoy a cup? It is Rooibos - Provence - a decaffeinated herbal."

"The kettle is on the range." He still did not look quite all there. "If this is not my brain having fun at my expense, what are you doing in my room?"

"I take great pleasure in being a pervert," Manuel said and moved to the counter, setting down the tea and picking up the kettle. It was half empty.

"I understand that most perverts do. Why does your perversion involve making hot drinks for me?"

"Your pleasant mood drew me. That and your door was open. Might I add that it seems very unlike you to do that. Curiosity got the better of me - I expected to find a body." He dumped and replaced the water. "A dying body," he corrected.

"I am sure that finding me alive was a terrible disappointment. I know -- I am a cad to crush all of your hopes and dreams." The speedster yawned and sat up slowly. "It's still Saturday?"

"All day long," he replied a little too false in his cheery tone. He searched the small kitchenette for mugs or rather, china mugs as tea always tasted better. Tea was much like wine with his selections and selecting a mug was equally important as the tea itself. "I have been relieved for two hours and find myself with too much time on my hands. Therefore, you will have to suffer me for the duration of a cup."

"I obviously have not slept long enough." He watched Manuel over the back of the couch. "Parenthood is going that well?"

"They insist I need time to myself," he admitted and turned the kettle on and leaving it to sit down. "They as in a number of people from the mansion." He took a seat in a nearby chair, finding it relatively uncomfortable on his hip and shifted. "What is that on your face?" he asked, having a better look at Jean-Paul now that he was seated. "It looks like a rash."

"Would you believe carpet burn?" The speedster was all innocence.

"I believe that as much as if you were eating carpet." He thought for a moment. "It's a very literal description, two very distinct differences."

"Such an untrusting soul." Jean-Paul shook his head. "I would rather not talk about it at present -- there is some fallout going on. Once things have settled down, then you may pick my brain. Figuratively speaking."

"Labels are for cans, not people - Anthony Rapp," he quoted, referring to the untrusting soul remark. Leaning back, he smoothed a hand down his thigh, a vain attempt to massage out a building cramp. "That is twice I have seen you glued to this couch. Any plans for a proposal?"

"Using my own furniture is cause for concern now? Besides, it is a comfortable couch. Since you're making me tea, you're welcome to one end of it before your leg walks off in protest."

"My leg is fine. If I do not exercise after two days, it cramps and the pain in the joint increases. It is just a simple reminder that I am being lazy. Similar, I would say, to a nagging coach. Unless this is a reminder that I am getting old. Then I may test the comfort you claim there to be. Do you stand by that claim?"

"If I and the couch and you are still here by the time you are old, absolutely." Jean-Paul regarded Manuel with faint, if weary amusement. "Any more luck in the battle of wills?"

"She has stopped taking Kyle's food, yes. Has she stopped being destructive and strange? No. Would you like a four year old?" he mused, standing up at the urge to get that cramp out and the kettle clicked at the same time, giving him more reason to move about. "That thought amuses me. What would you do with a four year old?"

"Buy a bigger rat cage," the Canadian deadpanned. "I have enough responsibilities at present, so I am afraid I will have to turn down your generous offer."

"I would not put her in a cage. Did you think I was serious?" he asked, quirking a brow in amusement. "Such an untrusting soul..."

"You did suggest that seven-year-olds are rational and self-sufficient. You cannot blame a person for wondering."

"Sarcasm is usual lost at the touch of a keyboard. You must understand that children do not come with manuals and I admit that I am not the most ideal person for her. However, I am the best one to protect her from the terrible that an empath could experience, that this empath has experienced, but she is too young to understand that."

"Perhaps you're simply not very good at sarcasm." Jean-Paul's needling subsided a bit as Manuel spoke of his sister. "That is not a bad thing, that she cannot understand through experience -- or so we can hope -- but it does mean that she will question every step of the way."

He gave Jean-Paul a very pointed look as he stood over him, holding out a tea to him. "As if she does not have 'why' attached to every other thing that comes to her mind. For now, 'because I said so' will suffice until she turns around to me and puts her foot down. Then I will tell her. And I will tell her everything."

Jean-Paul accepted his cup with a quiet, grateful sound.

"And then she will tell you how you know nothing and things are different for her. People tend not to learn until they experience."

"I would rather she did not know torture through experience and I do not know of any other way to convey the horrors I have suffered because of my power. I would not want to turn her off of her one advantage to others."

"I don't mean to imply that you should. I apologize if it came across as criticism." Jean-Paul sipped his tea. "Besides, my experience with children begins and ends at hiding from Nathan's daughter."

He got his own tea and returned to the couch to sit at the end of it, hoping his hip would stop it's growing protest. Glad for the casual shift in conversation, he paused to take in his own drink, setting his cane aside to do so. "Denial is quite the comfortable ignorance to live in once you have made it your niche."