Scott and Jean-Paul - Backdated to Tuesday night

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Scott attempts to get Jean-Paul to relax a bit after the Neverland mission.



"So," Scott said as Jean-Paul emerged from one of the infirmary rooms. "Would it be tacky of me to say that I'm really relieved your sister wasn't involved?"

"Exceptionally. That makes it no less valid." Though fighting the free-range mutant movement hadn't been especially harrowing, Jean-Paul looked tired. "I'm not sure how I feel about the matter. Disappointed that it is not her, happy to put off certain discussions further still, and guilty for the last. I guess it all balances out to about normal."

"Mm." Scott leaned back against the wall behind him. "That was a little more complex a situation than I was expecting, to be honest. One of these days I'm going to learn to take more people with me when we're not sure what we'll be facing. I wonder if the fact that I have problems with that makes me overconfident..."

"We managed, more or less. I should have hit their teleporter again," Jean-Paul grumbled. "Made certain she wouldn't be waking up again before we had the matter in hand. At least we know what to look for if they try something like this again. They are not subtle."

"I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'batshit crazy'." Scott made the universal 'crazy person' gesture with one hand. "Why are crazy people often so well-meaning?"

"Fracture under trauma, and it becomes too painful to watch it play out again, whether or not things are actually playing out as you think. So you take steps." Jean-Paul sighed. "Crazy or not, I'd give a lot for a minute alone with their ringleader."

"You're getting morose again. Aren't you?" Scott shook his head at the other man. "This could have turned out a lot worse than it had. Don't make me be the optimist. It always comes across as so fake."

"My captain is mistaken -- I am not morose." Perhaps spending the evening in the company of a passel of children was not the best thing; the speedster's protest made him sound about ten years old. "I am wanting to punch misguided baby-snatchers. That is entirely different." So there.

"And now you're pouting," Scott said, more observantly than tactically. A 'don't smack me' smile tugged at his lips.

Jean-Paul snorted softly, trying very hard not to smile in return. "You know, one the benefits of not actually being an X-Man is that I can send you into the lake with relative impunity."

"Oh, you just think you can. Because you're not actually an X-Man you don't really have any idea how good I am at relatively subtle revenge." He straightened, giving Jean-Paul a nudge towards the end of the hall. "Let's step out for a minute. You can come back and hover over the kids a little later, once you've decompressed a bit."

The speedster hesitated a moment, then fell into step with surprising docility. "I suppose we can't know how much -- if any -- of their assertions about the children were true until Charles and Jean have a chance to undo the mental blocks their telepath put in. They cannot have all been abuse cases."

"I imagine some of them probably were," Scott said, more impassively. "In which case the situation may become a little complex - hopefully, any abusive parents will be eager to get ship off their mutant children and we can offer them something better here."

"Hopefully. I would have given a lot for a place like this when I was growing up." A slight smile. "Even if I would not have confessed to it in a million years, of course."

"I remember it being like a dream," Scott said. "And not just because they'd sorted out what sort of glasses I should be wearing so that I didn't have to play blind anymore."

"Dreams always include the unhappy possibility of waking up." Jean-Paul smiled faintly. "When did it start to feel like home?"

"Probably six months before I accepted that it was real. Home... well, it took longer than that." He glanced sideways at Jean-Paul as they stepped out into the main corridor. "You're absolutely sure I can't talk you into joining the team," he said, in a deadpan voice that made it clear that he was joking - mostly.

Jean-Paul laughed. "I am afraid not. I've found that I do my best when I am focused on one goal. I would rather be Mister Beaubier day-to-day and leave Northstar until he is needed. Teaching leaves me in a better mood anyway."

"I wonder why that is. Possibly you've discovered a reserve of sanity that the rest of us lack?" It didn't quite come off as the joke he'd intended.

"More like I do not have the capacity to give a damn about the larger concerns of the world and mutantkind every day." Jean-Paul smirked. "Put me up in front of a dozen children in an arena where my word is law, and suddenly I am more interested."

"Ah. An environment you can control." Scott gave Jean-Paul an odd, almost hesitant look. "It could have turned out much worse today."

Jean-Paul nodded. "I know. The kids did not get in the way during the fight. None of them are hurt. Hopefully they'll be able to tell us where they're from once their minds are in better order. No one on our side fucked up. I should be concentrating on that."

Scott looked vaguely relieved. "This is true," he said. "I know we were kind of flying by the seat of our pants... I really should have had more people along. I seem to be making that mistake a lot lately."

"We should have brought Yvette with us," Jean-Paul remarked lightly. "She is the resident woodcutting expert."

Scott cracked a faint smile. "I'll make a mental note for the future." He eyed Jean-Paul, glad that he seemed a little less tense than he had. "X-Man or not, I believe I do owe you a drink for this. Not just Garrison."

"Something to numb the pain at the next pool hall massacre. Now that is cheery news."