J-P younger and J-P elder

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The school's wayward bitchy Frenchman returns from his 'vacation' to Attilan, and heads straight for the kitchen, where he finds Jean-Paul. They talk, and Jean-Phillipe gets something of a job offer.



Jean-Paul glanced up from his food prep at the sound of footfalls entering from the foyer and half-smiled as Jean-Phillipe stepped into the kitchen. There had been no announcement of the Frenchman's impending return, but Jean-Paul could not say that he was sorry to see him back. He feigned a double-take.

"So it is you!. Sorry -- it took me a moment to recognize you in full daylight."

Jean-Phillipe rolled his eyes in reply. "Ha, ha, ha. Very droll," he said sarcastically. He headed straight for the refrigerator and perused its contents. "The flight from Attilan to New York is entirely too long." At least the one upside to no longer hiding his control over his mutation was that he could travel on airplanes. Of course, being trapped in a metal cylinder with a host of idiotic people brought its own problems, mostly in restraining his natural urge to zap someone who was irritating him.

"Oh, be fair, Jean-Phillipe -- you left me here for over a month with no one else to properly commiserate with. You deserve a little needling." He put the knife down well out of reach anyway. "How was the trip?"


"I have learned that I want to be nothing like Pietro Maximoff when I grow older," Jean-Phillipe proclaimed, gesticulating grandiosely with the bowl of stirfry he had discovered in his search of the refrigerator. "Somewhere I am certain that my cousin and Maximoff's sister are laughing themselves silly."

Jean-Paul laughed softly. "I would not put it past them." He finally turned to regard Jean-Phillipe properly. The young man's skin was a little darker than before, his hair a little lighter. "Attilan seems to have agreed with you, speedsters aside. And, as you can see, we have managed to keep the school standing."


Jean-Phillipe snorted in amusement at Jean-Paul's comment. He'd made the dig at the student body out of sarcasm, but Jean-Paul had gotten him back in sly fashion. "You cannot go anywhere without the sun beating down on you in Attilan," he said. "It seems to be one of those places that the sun shines on even at night, almost."

Jean-Paul looked wistful at the description. "You are almost making me regret spending Spring Break in Scotland. But you are back, anyway, and have not headed right to your room. This seems a hopeful sign."

"Too hungry," Jean-Phillipe said around a mouthful of the stirfry. He shrugged. "And the fact that I do not wish to be like Maximoff. Bitter, paranoid, and alone. I think perhaps I have already done enough of that."

"You did not eat on the plane? I applaud your survival instinct." Jean-Paul turned on the heat beneath the vinegar mixture on the stove and went back to slicing potatoes. "Do you have a plan to stave off these three horrors? They can be persistent."

"It seems that half of these American airlines expect you to pay for the privilege of consuming their bland, tough, underportioned meals these days," Jean-Phillipe answered with a grimace. "Non, merci." He shook his head. "And as for plans, presently all I have is my determination, and a sense that I could use something to occupy my time more productively than smoking in my room."

"Oh, yes?" Suddenly, potatoes were second in Jean-Paul's attentions again. "My original plan was to have this be my settling in period, then take on another subject in addition to Literature for the fall semester. We are almost into summer now, but I have still not committed to the extra classes. The flight class hardly keeps me busy at all, but literature across all four tiers of students, plus the powers training and other out-of-class work takes up more time than I had anticipated." Not to mention he had his first counseling session scheduled for the coming week. "I do not think I will be able to add to my class load without an assistant."

That was not the sort of reply Jean-Phillipe was expecting. His fork paused halfway to his mouth, and he cocked his head. His first celebrity crush ever, and one of the major reasons he had discovered and felt comfortable with his sexuality was now offering him a job. He had clearly crossed into his dreams or some such. He dropped the fork in the bowl and pinched himself, rather painfully. "Still awake," he murmured. He nodded. "That might be just the thing. Merci."

"Do not thank me yet -- ask your cousin how well I treat my assistants." Despite his warning, the speedster did look pleased at this solution to his problem. "Depending on how well-equipped you are for the job, I may try to wrangle you into helping me with the Literature classes as well as the French. Trust me, it is hardly a dream come true."

"Pffft," Jean-Phillipe said dismissively with a wave. "That my cousin is not very fond of you is another point in your favor," he said with a grin.

Jean-Paul snorted quietly and turned back to the dish he was preparing. "Let me get this in the oven and we can discuss without you having to compete with my snack for attention." This certainly had the potential to be an interesting experiment.