Marie-Ange, Jean-Phillipe and Laurie in the Chunnel Passenger Train

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

In which Laurie fusses over people and puts her foot in her mouth, Marie-Ange is bitchy and a little crazy and Jean-Phillipe is claustrophobic, aquaphobic and cranky. So business as usual.



Laurie picked her way carefully down the line of seats toward where her companions were waiting. In her arms she held a large tray which contained cups, and several plates upon which sat a variety of jams, and scones. She had been rather surprised at the array of choices in the little lunch car but had quickly honed in on the offer of Devonshire tea.

"I come bearing food," she noted as she arrived at their seats.

"Oh, thank goodness, because I think Jean-Phillipe was about to gnaw off his own arm." Marie-Ange was uncharacteristically dressed in casual jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and sweater, and had her sketchpad out and had been drawing all day. "I think perhaps he ate possibly as long as an entire hour ago and may be starving to death."

"I have an energy projector's metabolism," Jean-Phillipe grumbled. "It is not my fault that it comes with the requirement of a significant amount of fuel." He grasped impatiently at Laurie's armful of food. Maybe it would also take his mind off the fact that they were in a metal cylinder under a vast amount of water.

"You remind me of Kyle when you do that," Laurie noted mildly, placing the tray down on the little table between the seats. "Only he at least says thankyou before scarfing it down..."

"And you called -me- a fat cow?" Marie-Ange said, laughing. "We have not taught Jean-Phillipe manners yet. He only just learned to eat with utensils instead of trying to shovel the food in with both hands." Her cousin was so very easy to needle. And hopefully it would keep him busy thinking of new and creative ways to insult her back rather than eying the windows every few minutes or fidgeting nervously with his jacket or scarf or phone.

"You didn't!" Laurie exclaimed, giving Jean-Phillipe a look of censure as she sat down beside Marie-Ange. "I'm surprised she didn't slap you for that one."

"There is something called sarcasm, Laurie, perhaps you should learn about it," Jean-Phillipe retorted at his suitemate, a bit more snappishly than usual. "Thank you ever so much for the food, Laurie," he went on with a little head bob. "Please, may I have some more?"

"Only if you dress up as a Dickensian street urchin," Laurie replied, ignoring Jean-Phillipe's comment about sarcasm. "Or, you know, you could just take some more. I bought enough to feed a small army."

"Or one Jean-Phillipe and his eel parts." Marie-Ange investigated the tea, putting two bags into a cup and pouring the steaming water over them to start a very strong cup. She turned the sketch pad around to show a fairly accurate sketch of Jean-Phillipe surrounded by eels that looked all too much like the ones from the Disney version of The Little Mermaid. "I drew you with eels..." she said, giggling a little.

Laurie took one look at the sketch and then raised her eyebrows in a rather questioning manner.

"You haven't had one too many mai tais, have you? Because I wouldn't want to have to sober you up the hard way so they'll let us on the plane."

Marie-Ange's giggle ended abruptly and she rolled her eyes. "First, I have had -no- alcohol. Second, I have had exactly one headache pill. Third, if you think I am letting you get anywhere near me with your powers, you should remember which one of us has a very accurate drawing of handcuffs on the next page of this sketchpad." Even if Laurie was joking, Marie-Ange was not in the mood to be threatened with mind-altering powers. "Last, we have at least a full day before we can catch a flight from Heathrow. If you really think that alcohol stays in anyone's system that long, perhaps you need to drink more."

Actually, in hindsight, perhaps that was a better idea than sniping at the poor girl.

Laurie blinked at Marie-Ange for a moment, and then reached for a scone. She'd been trying for light-hearted joking, but perhaps had not quite hit the mark she'd wanted to.

"Sorry," she said after swallowing a bite. "I only meant to tease you a little."

Marie-Ange pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I had guessed. It would have probably been a better choice to simply ask me how much I had to drink, or if I had taken too many headache pills. Perhaps my response was harsh, but I think you can understand why I might be uneasy with a joke that could be taken as a threat?" " As a measure of apology, she flipped the sketchbook over a few pages to show a rough sketched-out picture of Laurie dressed as Belle . "Teasing someone you do not know well can mean walking a very fine line between too much and not enough. Teasing those you know well is sometimes easier. Like calling Jean-Phillipe an eel-boy."

"Yes, it is easier, but it does not mean that I have to enjoy it either," Jean-Phillipe stuck his tongue out at Marie-Ange's picture between mouthfuls of food. "Also, if you have headache pills, I should very much appreciate one." Between attempting to keep rigid control over his power, their environment, and just a general stress level, he could feel a migraine coming on.

"You can have one half of one." Marie-Ange said, and bent to dig in her bag for the bottle. "They are to combat -my- headaches, and I have seen what they do to other people." Admittedly, it was Doug and he had taken two, but still. "I am not sure how they will react to your metabolism." Probably quickly, Marie-Ange had seen how quickly painkillers hit Jubilee. She produced a pocketknife from the same bag and split one of the pills in half, handing it over. "No alcohol either. Which means your drink is just going to have to go in Laurie, since I am not drinking today either."

"Huh?" Laurie replied, halfway through making herself a cup of tea, two sugars and full cream milk, she liked to think of herself as a traditionalist when it came to tea. "When was it decided that I'd be drinking?"

She supposed she was on holiday, and had absolutely no reason not to drink, except of course her long standing protest to anyone who would listen about drunken debauchery.

"Shall I tick off points again? No? Yes?" Marie-Ange nudged Jean-Phillipe's untouched glass towards Laurie. "First, it is not illegal here. We have less stupid laws than your country. Second, it is one drink, not twelve. Third, it is paid for and so someone should, so that Jean-Phillipe's euros are not gone to waste." She turned to a blank page in her pad and began sketching idly. "Also if you do not, I will stab you with a pencil. " She winked, and smiled. "See, that is how you make a funny threat. This pencil could not possibly stab anyone. The graphite is much too soft."

"You make a compelling arguement," Laurie replied with a smile, picking up the glass and sniffing at it for a moment before taking a sip. It wasn't bad, the bite of alcohol warming her throat as it slid down toward her stomach. "It's not bad."

Jean-Phillipe rolled his eyes at his suitemate and his cousin. He was not so sure that his cousin was teasing, given that he knew very well what she was capable of. It was not that she was unethical, just that her ethics were particularly ruthless. But as annoying as Laurie could be, he was pretty sure that it wasn't a killing offense in Marie-Ange's eyes. You never could tell, though. After all, there were days that he could have cheerfully throttled them both. "And the world is about to end because Laurie unclenched and actually listened to people," he said wryly.

"There are no predicted apocalypses until much later in the year. All of which are preventable." Marie-Ange looked up from her sketchpad with a wry expression. "Aside from that absurd movie, and that is... I do not think anyone wants a lecture on the Mayan calendar, no?"

"I think we can skip that one," Laurie said, rolling her eyes at her suitemate. "And I'll have you know that I don't consider all alcohol bad. A glass of wine with dinner can help with heart disease, it's just when you take it to excess that bad things happen."

Admittedly, it had taken her a long time to come to that particular compromise, but considering medical science seemed to think it was okay, Laurie herself thought protesting all alcohol would just be considered stupid.

Jean-Phillipe raised his eyebrows at Laurie. "Given that there are lectures from you on the perils of alcohol in the public record on the journals, I believe the proper response here is 'you are so full of it'."

"You forget, my dear roommate," Laurie replied with a somewhat wicked looking grin. "A lady may always change her mind."

he retort practically wrote itself. "Whoever told you that you were a lady lied to you."