xp_logs | Morgan & Jean-Paul

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Jean-Paul shows up at the Brownstone looking for a guy with a great rear view and is hijacked by a woman asserting prior claim on him instead.

Morgan was really just stepping out because she had a need of food. Food which she had managed to not have any of anywhere in her apartment. It was most problematic but that's what they invented grocery stores for, isn't it? She was about the leave the building when someone was opening the door to come in. She figured it was one of the X-Force folk who lived there so she didn't think much of it until she saw who it was. Her red eyes went wide for a moment and then narrowed at the figure. "Why is there never tall, dark and handsome coming in my door but it's coming in my building's door?"

Jean-Paul blinked, then smiled broadly. "Because you, ma cherie, have an annoying tendency to vanish from the face of the earth." He had both her hands in his in the next moment. "I was beginning to think that reports of your living here were greatly exaggerated, but now I see the proof in front of me."

Morgan was grinning and batting her eyes in a faux bit of preening. "I do have that tendency, don't I? Not by choice, necessarily. Really, it's more of a thing where I work loads and then I curl up with books and occasionally go see my boyfriend or drag Adrienne about. I don't make it to the mansion much to harass you." She frowned. "So why are you here?"

"I was here to collect Jacob for our continued bakery tour, but I could be hijacked by persons whom I have known longer and could kill me more quickly." For all his talk of kidnapping, he already had his arm around Morgan's waist.

Morgan leaned into Jean-Paul out of habit, her arm mirroring his as it wrapped around his waist. "So you're cheating on me with Gavin as well?" She heaved a melodramatic sigh as they walked out of the building the Canadian had just entered. "I really should go full-time male so people stop cheating on me, aye? Of course, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate it, but I could find another one of those if I had to and had want of one still." She withered at Jean-Paul's side, leaning more heavily on him. "It's the eyes and the testicles and all that, innit? That's what he's got over me, right? Though damn fucking right I'm hijacking you! It's my right and I'm exercising it!" Even if she was the one being hijacked.

"And a rear view to die for and the ability to tell paprika from cayenne at twenty paces," Jean-Paul pointed out. He popped open his phone just long enough to send Jake a text that he would be late. Possibly very late and would have to make amends. "Of course, I believe you do have the distinct advantage in that I am certain that you like men on the menu and -- wait, 'as well'? Who else has Gavin stolen from you?"

"Please, I can totally have the rear view working for me and you like knowing more than me about cooking because being praised and adored and loved and having all that vocalized loudly and often totally trumps sharing knowledge and connecting over spices." Mostly she gave herself points for knowing paprika was a spice. Time in Eastern Europe could do that to a girl. She eyed Jean-Paul's phone, pretending to spy on his text message even though she wasn't looking at what he was typing at all. "He should like men. Just to get you laid since I'm not laying you. Which was maybe a bad idea in retrospect," she grinned at him.
"Oh, he's stolen Adrienne as well."

By the time Morgan had finished her detailed litany of advantages to culinary knowledge, Jean-Paul was blushing slightly and trying to give her a death glare. "You need to stop putting these mental images in my head, especially when you are delivering bad news -- not only is he likely straight, I cannot even honorably jump him to find out while he is dating a friend. Where are we going? I need to be consoled."

"I'm not sure how attached Adrienne is to him but the moment I find out she's not I'll be sure to let you know," Morgan swore solemnly. "We're going somewhere with food, of course. Either that or we're going to a dark alley where I can have my way with you." She bumped his hip with her own and tried to hold back her smirk, which didn't succeed much at all. "Out of the way will work if we can't locate a dark one. I could sneak back to the Brownstone and break into Gavin's apartment to find something I can pick up a mimic from so you can get laid by your current dream man," she offered. Morgan even pulled off making that offer sound entirely serious.

"Now you are just making things up. Obviously your low blood sugar has made you giddy. Find us a pub. You must know where they all are."

"All I need is a bit of hair and five minutes," she protested. She deflated and even pouted at him. "Aye, I know where a fair few are. The people at Finnigan's like us Snow Valley sorts. Probably because we likely drink enough to pay most of their bills every month. C'mon," she nodded in the general direction of the pub in question.

..............

The pair were seated at a tucked-away table not long after; it was a bit out of the way of waitress traffic, but both mutants were hard to ignore in their own ways.

For once, Jean-Paul was ignoring the menu in favor of conversation -- it really had been too long.

"So what have you been up to since we had our dance?"

"Depends, was that before or after I took Laurie to Ireland and left her with a mercenary?" Morgan really couldn't remember, honestly. "I went snooping around for information while the other kids got to play at a conference. Mostly I've been working. Sometimes I call the boy and get him to come over late at night for things that are not nearly as fun or naughty as you're likely assuming. I went hunting for a ghost with Adrienne, who bitched about her shoes and walking through the woods the whole time pretty much." That was, when they weren't busy not saying things but Morgan was trying to ignore that bit. "Mostly I've been working and hanging out with a few people. Mostly Adrienne and the boy. Managed to wrangle time with the other Canadian once, or he wrangled it with me. Oh, and Adrienne sent my boyfriend a corset and matching leather strip skirt." Her eyes were sparkling, "What have you been getting up to? No good with Manuel?"

"Manuel has been busy with the mini-him lately, but I think we get on well enough. We take pains not to speak of anything important. My main partner in crime continues to be Nathan. I will figure out why he lets me get away with it one of these days." Jean-Paul considered. "It has been busy. The students keep me on my toes, as usual. One of the newcomers put me in the medlab for a bit, but no lasting damage. I had a run-in with a bastard from my past up in Quebec -- hostage situation. It...could have ended better, but at least he was the only one to die." Jean-Paul laughed softly. "And Nathan and I have spent most of last week demonstrating that one of the advantages of adulthood is not having to act your age. For a brief time, his house could be seen from space without the aid of satellites."

"You and Nate," her voice trailed off and she just shook her head. "Love you both but thank God neither of you are my role models." Not that Morgan's actual role models were really paragons of virtue or maturity when they could get away with being immature. Mercenary work didn't lend itself to long bouts of immaturity much, though. "Who put you in medlab?"

Jean-Paul snorted quietly. "Moira did have to threaten us into public apologies for being such poor examples, so hopefully the students have seen the error of our ways." The waitress stopped by to take their drink orders, then vanished again. "Cammie. I do not know if you met her? She arrived just as you were moving out, I think. She gets the dubious honor of being one the few mansion residents to catch me with a punch. Though, in my defense, I was not expecting one." He chuckled. "As I told Lil, it is just my luck to be the only Canadian in the place who does not shrug off poison."

"Excuse me?" Morgan's jaw went slack and her eyes went wide. "The mouthy, arrogant green one fucking socked you? Why?" Morgan veritably had her haunched up, tail puffed and ready hiss and claw her way to making a point about how you did not fuck with her Canadian. She considered if it was amoral to threaten the girl's life but after remembering she wasn't actually a student at the mansion pointing a gun at the little bint wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

Apparently they had met, and not on friendly terms. Also, the news that he'd been poisoned appeared to be a lot less humorous to someone who hadn't known about it several months already.

"I was trying to get her to open up about her past, and came on too aggressively. She felt cornered and she lashed out." Jean-Paul shrugged. "I should have dodged. But, as I said, no lasting damage. I am fine and we have talked it out. I am giving her cooking lessons now, actually."

"So she lashed out by fucking punching you?" This was obviously something Morgan was not going to simply let go of. Someone had hurt her friend and maybe it was long ago enough now that it was a non-issue for said friend, but it still wasn't okay with her.

"From her perspective, I am sure she did not see a better way to get me to back off." Their drinks arrived and the server retreated quickly; the look on Morgan's face really didn't encourage lingering. "I do not think I would have thought any differently in her position when I was younger -- if someone does not listen, you have to make them listen before you lose the option to do anything."

"Because walking the fuck away and slamming the door to her suite in your face wasn't an option for getting that point across? How is it that assaulting someone is the better solution when you could just leave?" The expression on her face was not softening nor fading. Morgan was pissed and as far as she was concerned that crazy little bitch needed to locked the fuck up until she learned better coping mechanisms. This from a woman who slept with a knife under her pillow and a loaded gun next to her bed.

"I did not say it was a better solution. I would have preferred not to take that hit, trust me." Jean-Paul sipped his water. "I am saying it was understandable, given the circumstances. I was asking questions about a painful topic, I was in her suite, and I was pressing her to talk. Perhaps if she had been at Xavier's longer, she might have felt more comfortable walking away or just telling me to fuck off but, figuratively speaking, she felt she had her back to the wall at that moment."

"You usually know when to back off," Morgan said about a few silent moments. "So why didn't you? Why keep pressing her until her 'understandable' reaction of socking you with her happy arm?"

"That matter of her past had me concerned that it could come back around in a bad way for her and for the rest of us at the school. I thought it was fairly important." He stirred the ice in his glass with his straw. "And, I admit, there was some frustration on my part that she would not just let us...let me...help once we got into it."

"And that surprised you?" That fact surprised her and it showed. "Had you ever talked to the girl before this? She thinks quite highly of her abilities. She thinks she's better than people she has no right thinking she's better than. She has a bit of a superiority complex and a fuck load of attitude. Of course she doesn't want your help. She probably doesn't want anyone's help. If I were to guess I'd say she'd rather run and not deal than take anyone's help. She fancies herself a strong, capable woman but confronting her shit head on is going to prove how very weak she is and she can't afford to have her self-image shattered like that. She's not going to face anything if she can help it and I suspect you'll end up socked a few more times before you find out enough to negate her attempts at avoidance." At least that was Morgan's personal diagnosis from her interactions with the obnoxious little bint. Of course, someone like Haller or Samson would be more qualified to comment on the situation, but Morgan doubted Carmilla would be talking to either of them if she could help it.

"I had, actually. Most of that attitude is scar tissue over a ton of fear and hurt, Morgan. That cannot surprise you." He drummed his fingertips along the table once. "Look, putting me down scared the hell out of her. She has not talked to me about the particulars of the incident I wished to speak of, but she has confided in some of the others. She is working now, thinking of pursuing her education, and she is training with Logan, Garrison and some of the others, working on her control." And she'd stolen Scott's car, but that was for later. Maybe. "She is not a saint, but she is moving forward. I think that was worth a night in medlab and a few days of sour stomach."

"You're entitled to your opinion there." Which clearly meant she both disagreed with his opinion and would not seek to reconcile her own opinion of the girl who had done nothing but be a first class bitch to Morgan whenever she'd come across her. To be fair Morgan was a bit on the offensive when she first talked to the kid, but they got over that. Or at least Morgan had. Oh well, some people enjoyed keeping grudges going. Everyone needed a hobby. "Sure it's scar tissue, but that doesn't change the net effect. It's great if she's talking to some people but talking and dealing aren't the same thing and if her impulse is still to punch someone first then it seems like a hazard to have her hanging about with minors who are there for protection, both their own and everyone else's. People in that place have enough damage on their own without having more done to them by someone else there. That's all."

"I hear what you are saying, but I do not think Cammie is more of a hazard now than any of the other students learning to control their abilities or their tempers. But I do not think either of us are going to budge the other on this matter. Might I suggest a change of topic?"

"Are we going back to the one that involves me getting your back against a wall in an alley," she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"The perennial favorite." Jean-Paul propped his chin on his fist, timing his comment for just as the waitress came within earshot again. "Talk dirty to me, Morgan. My back is against the wall in this alley. Who are you wearing?"