xp_logs | Backdated Saturday Morning: Manuel & Jean-Paul

While Callie looks after Valentia, Manuel seeks Jean-Paul for confirmation as to what happened with Cammie.

While Callie was looking after Valentia, Manuel made it known that he was not far from them, however he needed to speak to Jean-Paul without little ears to hear what happened. Not that Valentia could fully understand, her comprehension of emotions was a language in its own and she was becoming more and more specific with details the longer Manuel spent with her. It was simply better to approach the man with as little distraction as possible.

Pausing at the door, he gave it a very brief knock and leaned heavily on his cane, waiting while he clutched a tea of different sorts in his hand.

Jean-Paul opened the door and ushered him in. A sugar-tinged warmth to the air in the suite silently announced that Manuel's host had been baking. "Ah, punctuality. The more time I spend with my students, the more I appreciate that quality in others."

"A lesson I have yet to teach Valentia. She likes to show me everything she owns in a vain attempt to delay my departure," he replied. He thought to ask if this was a bad time, considering his host seemed to be busy, however, Manuel refrained from asking, but merely allowed himself to be herded in whatever direction Jean-Paul favoured. Courteous to remove his shoes before walking in, his limp was more pronounced than before and he situated himself on the couch with an obvious sigh of relief.

"Is there a bake sale I do not know about?"

Jean-Paul shrugged. "I had company coming and magdalenas are not so hard to make. I'm not sorry that I did. You look as if you could use the nourishment."

Manuel studied his hand wrapped around the neck of his cane, judging his skin tone. "Am I looking ill?" he asked.

"You look worn. You practically fell onto the couch once you had refuge. " The Canadian smirked. "So I suppose it is up to me to fortify you and you send you back out into the world."

"Magdelenas. I have not had those since I was a child and even then, I was deprived. There is an unseen force working in my favour. Should I be wary?" He set his cane aside, rubbing his thigh as he watched Jean-Paul over his shoulder.

"Almost certainly. But try to enjoy it while it lasts. Do you want me to get the tea started, or am I not to be trusted with such a delicate task?"

He held up the tea. "I am afraid your couch as earned its reputation and I am not moving for awhile. Here--"

Jean-Paul took the canister and sniffed curiously. "Honeybush? Or a blend, at least." He headed for the kitchen again. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

He did not turn, but rather focused his attention on his hip, shifting to relief some pain that climbed his spine. "Pleasure of my company? Something must be amiss," he chuckled. Being treated like royalty let alone with some sort of detailed kindness was nearly foreign and he was very focused on his own emotions suddenly. "My focus is more of casual inquires about sporadic sicknesses caused by an insufferable attitude that has a chip on its shoulder," he replied without hesitation.

"Take it as sarcasm if it's more familiar territory. Still...you and I are hardly confidants, but I've progressed past wanting to reduce you to component parts, and that is certainly progress worth holding on to." Jean-Paul lifted an eyebrow at Manuel's response to his question, then began fetching cups and saucers. "You're speaking of Cammie Black, I assume. Why do we we need to discuss her?"

"She has quite the fuse ready to blow." He paused, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and brushed a hand over his brow. "She explained that you experienced it first hand, posing as the father figure she didn't need. And yes, I already know to mind my own business, however, if she is talking to you, it is best someone defuse the bomb before it goes off again. For all her front, she is very vulnerable underneath and that makes her a very dangerous individual." Especially where students like Yvette and Callie were concerned.

"Actually, I was acting as the interrogator that she didn't need. I have no interest in fatherhood." Jean-Paul shook his head. "Cammie and I are on friendly terms, but I am not her confidant either. She is not my student, she is an adult, and the matter of her past has been placed in the hands of others. She has every right to tell me to fuck off and I am inclined to listen."

"I am afraid I am in no better situation with her. I can feel everything she is feeling however, it is not my grounds to penetrate an exterior. She had a very creative way of telling me to go 'fuck' myself." He seemed amused by it, if anything. Sympathy was not always one of his better attributes.

"I can tempt her in for a meal now and again. We've gotten as far as going flying together." Jean-Paul emerged long enough to set a plate of small, golden cakes on the coffee table before retreating back to the kitchen. "But she is setting the boundaries right now and I do not think she is in the mood to accept interlopers -- less so than before, actually. Almost killing someone gives you a need to be in control, I suppose. Unless you don't care, but she is not so far gone."

Manuel nodded his appreciation, though he waited for Jean-Paul to sit, as was polite to do so, before touching anything. "Understand, my concern only extends so far. I leave that ability for others who are comfortable with it, like yourself."

There was the thinnest plastic shaving of a smile on Jean-Paul's face as he returned with the teapot in one hand and the cups, sugar bowl, and creamer balanced on the crook of the opposite arm.

"It needs to steep a bit longer, but no use making more trips. And I think you must be speaking of another Beaubier. That is fine, it happens."

"Yes I must be," Manuel said, waving dismissively about waiting longer for the tea. He had nothing but time. "Because there are other Beaubier's with your emotional signature. Are you always this forthcoming about how you are?"

"You are being overly generous with your analysis, that is all. It is a long way from 'potentially capable' to 'comfortable'." Jean-Paul settled himself in an armchair, letting Manuel have as much space as he needed on the couch.

"They are not the same?" his brow lifted, a hint to his sarcasm and leaned forward to help himself now that Jean-Paul was seated. He paused long enough to pull a piece off one of the cakes and sample it, mindful to raise his shields layer by layer. Not everyone enjoyed a prying empath. "These are good." There was a definite surprise laced through his tone.

The speedster laughed. "And that is so shocking? I'll have to work on my culinary reputation."

He smiled faintly, the laughter was contagious. "You do not have to tell anyone. I would gladly keep this skill secret, if only to cultivate it myself."

"I'm afraid my habit of feeding anyone who turns up in my immediate vicinity is a very poorly kept secret, Manuel. You'll simply have to take your chances that someday, someone will co-opt my baking skills all for himself." He began to pour the tea. "But you will still have Callie."

"Who is excellent within herself, if not stubborn sometimes. She refuses pay for babysitting. Since I have no tolerance for her pride, let alone my own, there will come a day when she needs the money and it will be there. Earned by her own hand."He'd already set up the account, all he had to do was sign it off onto her."Call it a trust fund."

The speedster leaned back with his cup of tea. "I think I will call it 'Manuel refusing to be beholden to anyone'. But that does not mean that I disapprove."

"Yes, because I seek approval from everyone," he replied, leaning over to pick up his own tea. "A Canadian most of all." His tone didn't have the bite that it normally would, dismissive in his gesture. "No, it will be one of those 'she'll thank me when she's older' which I did not believe I would ever say at my age."

This seemed to amuse Jean-Paul anew. "You are settling into the parent role, then?"

"I warn you. You are smiling too much at my expense, Ser," Manuel pointed out.

"Oh, a thousand pardons. I will do my best to find you unamusing." Jean-Paul wiped the smile from his face, though his emotions gave him away, of course.

"Infectious thing," Manuel scoffed a scowl to remove his own problematic smile from his face and brought the tea to his lips, testing how hot it was to how much he could taste at that temperature. "If you are not careful, I may have to talk a blonde telepath to have you licking dog food out of my hand at the end of the week... ah that will not work, you have Nathan to counter act." He waved Jean-Paul off a second time. "Another plot foiled."

"You forget the most glaring flaw in that plan." Jean-Paul helped himself to cake. "Namely, that were you to play out such a fantasy, we would soon find ourselves short one empath. And it would not necessarily be me hiding the body."

"I am not worried. I am sure you would find plenty of help to hide the body. Mainly ninety-nine percent of the mansion," he said without a trace of humor now. He was under no illusion that any of them liked him. "They would give any chance to a stranger than one of this Spaniard's bloodline," he said as an afterthought.

"That would depend. Is this a scenario where you conspire to make me eat dogfood or not? If so, could you blame them?"

"You may sleep easy tonight. I do no such thing. That is a scenario best saved for another." If he remotely stepped out of line, consequences would be severe.