xp_logs | Nathan and Jean-Paul, late Thursday evening

After returning from New York, Nathan runs into a slightly inebriated Jean-Paul on his way back to the boathouse.

Nathan stepped out of the SUV, closing the door behind him, and paused to prod experimentally at the side of his face. He grunted, discontented, and turned in the direction of the doors. There were going to be some visible bruises, that was a given. I wonder if I could try the 'I walked into a door' excuse?

"You're attempting to be stealthy. This cannot bode well." The voice was lazy, slightly slurred, and coming from the roof.

Having had to duck under the doors as they closed automatically, Nathan looked up in the direction of the voice and sighed. "Distracted," he muttered. "Didn't sense you there. What are you doing on the roof?"

"Staying away from the journals. I remember what happens when people around here slip up and act human while under the influence. Public pillory. Roof is fine and safe, until I catch interesting people sneaking in, then it is boring." Jean-Paul vaulted off of the garage roof and landed with only a slight bump. "You have extra shadows on your face. Did you know this?"

"Yes." Nathan paused, and decided to try it. "I walked into a door."

Jean-Paul laughed and leaned on Nate, patting his head fondly. "My friend is a very funny man. I am not that drunk, you know."

"If you must know," Nathan said, heading in the direction of the boathouse - Jean-Paul followed, of course, not that Nathan had really expected anything else, "I had a drink with an old friend." He gave a somewhat brittle smile. "I use the word loosely."

"I should hope so." Jean-Paul paced alongside him. "You have my permission to find a different designation for me if I ever do such a thing to your face. I hope he looks worse."

"Mmph," Nathan shrugged uneasily. "Wasn't much of a fight. He hit me, I hit him, he flew away."

Jean-Paul frowned. "I have a problem with about two-thirds of that statement. Do you have anything worse than bruises?"

Nathan, who'd been prodding lightly at his ribs, dropped his hand abruptly. Not soon enough to avoid Jean-Paul noticing, of course. "Maybe," he conceded, eyes narrowing. A sigh escaped him. "We didn't do any property damage? I threatened him with all kinds of telepathic malfeasance if he used his powers..."

"Fuck the property damage. I give two shits about the architecture of New York? It may heal faster than you do -- did we not recently speak as to how much structural damage you can take?" Jean-Paul huffed in a manner that would have mortified him were he sober and held the boathouse door open for Nate. "I'm thinking he must have been a very good friend at one point that he got away with as much as he did."

"No, actually, he's always kind of been a weasel." Inside, Nathan headed straight for the fridge, or rather, the freezer. "There was a day when I didn't have to keep multiple icepacks ready," he said with another sigh, pulling two out. He went over and flopped down on the couch, laying one icepack against his jaw and the other along his ribs. The numbing effect was immediate, and quite nice. "I wish there was such a thing as an icepack for the soul. I think John could use one too."

"Souls are hard to find. They do not show up in the anatomy books, you know. Hard to medicate them." Jean-Paul flopped into an armchair. "So who is John?"

Well, he might as well get it over with. He didn't really think Jean-Paul would throw anything at his head. "John Lense," Nathan said, not quite briskly. "Former Mistra operative, current Black Knight of the Hellfire Club."

"Nathaaan..." Jean-Paul sighed. "Have I told you that I'm naming my first grey hairs after you? You should be proud, really."

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Moira. She's going to smother me in my sleep." Nathan shifted, removing the ice pack from his face for a moment and working his jaw. "It's the anniversary," he said. "Of the attack on Youra. I thought it might be a good night to look him up? He is a bastard, but, well." Nathan trailed off feebly. "I'm amazed I can be so forgiving about the coma," he said. "Maybe deep down I think I'm owed a little abuse."

"Not so deep down. It is an easy path to take when we fail people.Take it from the man sitting here with a second smile under his chin. I'd still do anything for her." A moment. "Almost anything."

Nathan gazed over at him for a long moment. "It's the almost that's the key, isn't it?" he said after a moment. "You go so far... but no further. And not holding onto any guilt about stopping is like telling the sun not to shine." He gave an irritable, one-shouldered shrug. "Oh, here we go. Approaching 'maudlin' at a hundred miles an hour."

"We're in the company of drink, bruises, ghosts and icepacks. 'Maudlin' seems suiting. We could attempt card games, I suppose. Between your concussion and my inebriation, we should be almost on level ground." Jean-Paul sat up a bit. "It's a wonder we trust ourselves at all."

"I should've gone to Tel Aviv," Nathan muttered. "They wanted me to... except then there would have been a bunch of maudlin people sitting around, probably getting drunk together and then feeling even worse in the morning." His hand shook a little as he set one of the icepacks aside; his ribs really weren't that bad. John hit like a girl. "I miss them," he said after a moment, abruptly. Not looking at Jean-Paul, because his eyes were burning. "It's been four years, and I still miss them every day."

"And you are going to feel what in the morning, Nathan? Another loss? Maudlin seems an acceptable alternative to that." Jean-Paul shook his head. "You should have gone. Remind me next year so that I can herd you onto the plane myself."

"You would, too, wouldn't you?" Nathan finally sighed, propping a leg on the coffee table. "I need to find a happier anniversary to celebrate soon. Maybe I should throw myself a giant forty-third birthday party. What do you think?"

"I would carry you if I had to, and leave you in coach if you made too much of a fuss." He was being smirked at. "And I like this idea. It sounds like something that requires renting a venue. Or having a friend volunteer one."

"See, this is where I feed you more beer and hope you don't remember this conversation in the morning."