xp_logs | Manuel and Jean-Paul

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Jean-Paul and Manuel converse over their morning work-outs.

Swimming was becoming less enjoyable now, his strokes were slow, struggling in the water and burning up a sweat, despite the temperature. He cursed Bishop and his hard training, stressing that swimming would help out his body where he would flatter in other exercises. It was harder now than when he had first entered the pool months ago, the strain on his neck pulling over his shoulders and a deep dull pain rode on his back, straight down his spine into his pelvis, though he was surprised to admit, the throb did not touch his hips where it should have. It meant that he was doing something right and the slow satisfying bulged in specific muscle areas told him he was doing something right, or he would have given up all together.

Taking in a sharp breath, Manuel slipped beneath the surface, the building tension easing off his shoulders and body as he enjoyed being beneath the water. He could only smile at the irony. A moment later, he resurfaced, brushing a hand through his slicked back mane and blinking the water from his eyes, mindful of a specific signature in close proximity.

Jean-Paul emerged from the changing area, drawing up short as soon as he caught sight of Manuel. After a moment, he nodded a greeting and headed for the pool without a word. It was later than usual for his swim, but he had some energy to burn off.

"Keeping to yourself as of late?" Manuel asked or prodded. It always depended on the receiver. He turned around on the wall and pushed off, heading into another lap.

"You are so surprised?" He dove in, making barely a ripple in the surface of the water.

He waited patiently until Jean-Paul resurfaced and swam into the deep end, past him. "Brooding and alone. Typical fabrication of the broken hero. Add a bottle of Pinto Grigio and there is your perfect recipe."

"If I was going to break, I would have done so years ago. And it would not be so mundane as sulking off alone." The speedster stroked easily past Manuel. "As it stands, I am still lingering on the cusp of 'pissed off', a much less worrisome condition. Unless you happen to be a blonde telepath."

"Or three blond telepaths," Manuel added, grabbing the edge and turning to push off the wall again. Oh yes, he could relate to anger much better than any other emotion and it was the driving force into him picking up his strokes. "It is in their nature to be like that. To know everything, demand everything and have it delivered on command."

"In this case, it was to spread information that was none of their damned business and damage my relationship with my students in the process." Jean-Paul scowled and dove again. "It will blow over. It always does."

"A good thing that you are not a telepath. It will always be in the back of their minds, impressionable as they are and it will group you with the mutants who have killed as opposed to those much more innocent."

"Accurate enough, I suppose. I am a mutant who has killed, and I am hardly an innocent. If you expect me to argue my labels, you will have to accuse me of being a murderer first." The speedster slapped the far side of the pool lightly and pushed off for another lap.

"I am stating facts, not seeking debates," Manuel replied easily, passing Jean-Paul in the middle. "As you said, it will pass, especially in the face of another eventful tragedy."

Jean-Paul snorted quietly. "What a wretched silver lining. But again, accurate enough, at least so far as the gossip goes. I will have to talk over the rest of it myself."

"How do you mean?" he asked. "I am not sure I understand what you are saying, talking over the rest?"

The speedster hit the other end of the pool, then paused, treading water. "This business with Ernst isn't going to stay in the minds of most of the school, certainly not with the staff. We are all very much 'been there, done that' in our own ways, and even if not, I do not care what most people think. The ones it will linger with will be the ones who give a damn, for whatever reason, and I am not eager to talk it out. Trying to explain to people why you care enough to lie to them is never an easy conversation."

It was only when he made his way over to one of the lounge chairs that he commented, silently noting that his back was still paying him for throwing Tabitha into the pool at Caymen Islands. "I am sure you will have plenty of insufferably people fussing over you to make sure you are sound of mind. However, keep in mind that most within the mansion know lies better than they know truth." He most of all. "I would be more concerned about lying to yourself," the empath smiled behind the drying of a towel, concealing the usual black speedo he wore.

"Then, by all means, be so. I do not intend to waste any time on that particular concern." Beaubier fell to his workout in earnest, showing no further use for the conversation.

Manuel's eyebrows rose at the dismissal and he turned around, heading for the changeroom. Evasive as ever, he thought to himself. Where does the killing stop?