Amanda & Jean-Paul, Tuesday Night

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Amanda catches Jean-Paul on his way to his temporary housing unit in District X.

Jean-Paul was still waiting to hear from Professor Xavier about whether or not he'd be able to return to the mansion. He was fairly sure his request wouldn't meet with outright refusal, but he didn't have the most sterling record - thus the uncertainty. Which was why he found himself dodging skyscrapers in New York as he returned to District X. Temporary housing left much to be desired, he'd discovered.

If it turned out, for whatever reason, that he wasn't wanted or needed at the mansion, he planned to fly back to Montreal. He didn't want to approach Department H, especially not after the fiasco with Alpha Flight and the fact that he'd refused to attend the funerals for his former teammates... but he needed assistance with this. Humility was a bitter pill, indeed.

Landing just down the block from the hostel where he'd taken up residence for the duration of his wait, Jean-Paul paused for a moment, then began the walk to the front door.

Walking through the streets of New York at night could be considered a risky past time for a young woman, but Amanda did her best to avoid trouble while on her power-absorbing jaunts. After all, killing off too many would-be rapists or muggers would garnish a little too much attention, and Snow Valley's staff tended to try and stay below official radar. District X was a particularly good place to blend in, she'd found, despite the fact she didn't look like a mutant - there were plenty of people whose powers kept them up at all hours. Besides, it was a good place to keep an eye on; too many targets, too many predators, all mixed up in the same neighbourhood.

Up ahead of her, a flyer landed on the pavement, pausing for a moment before heading to the hostel that had sprung up in the wake of Day Zero to cater to the influx of mutants needing shelter. Amanda stopped as well - it wasn't exactly easy to tell in the light of a street light, but she knew that profile. She quickened her steps, aiming to intercept him before he went inside.

He could hear footfalls coming behind him and from the side - Jean-Paul could have gotten to the hostel more quickly, or simply taken off again, but he was tired. He'd been in the air for most of the day, not pushing himself past his upper limits, but concentrating enough to stay aloft that long wore him thin even on the best of days.

Today was not one of the best.

Which meant he had less energy than he needed and none of the willpower necessary to speed himself up. Jean-Paul made a mental note to eat more protein in the next few days. Still, he didn't look over his shoulder to see who was approaching, despite the fact that the footfalls had sped up.

Strange that he hadn't turned to acknowledge her... she wasn't making much effort to hide her approach, preferring to not have her head ripped off by startling him. "Jean-Paul, wait up!" she called at last. "It's me, Amanda. I just want to talk for a sec."

Amanda - Amanda. Shredded memories surfaced, trying to fit together into something that made sense. They were only partially successful. He remembered a great deal of pain, that she'd helped him, and then there was something about the bistro in Montreal. Dinner. With someone else. The memory dropped off, though. He thought he caught enough of a sense of anticipation, though, to indicate he hadn't been worried about it.

Jean-Paul's mind had knitted itself back together so strangely, though. Now the bistro held the negative connotations that went along with the false memories of killing Belmonde and enjoying it. He pushed the thoughts away, shoulders stiffening as he turned carefully on one heel. "Oui?"

She stopped, catching the stiffening of his body - working with the King of Body Language had its advantages, as did the spy training. "I didn't realise you were back," she said, keeping her tone even. "Or that you'd left Muir, for that matter."

"I left Muir months ago," Jean-Paul said, eyeing the woman as she paused. "Can I help you?"

Amanda raised her eyebrows slightly. "Good to see you're still able to do Cranky Quebecois Bastard," she replied. "And since it's my job to keep tabs on the unusual, I figure it gives me room to be nosy. That and the fact I saved your life once," she added, pointedly.

"I believe I thanked you for that," Jean-Paul replied, brows rising in response to Amanda's expression. "Perhaps my status has changed, non? Or the term 'unusual' has changed it's meaning. Surely there are more interesting people for you to see here, in District X."

"Ah, but there's that old saying, 'the man whose life you save is your responsibility forever,'" Amanda shot back with a hint of a grin. "And you might not be the most interesting person around here, but seein' you here, staying at a seedy hostel when Nathan's got an apartment in the city, looking definitely scruffier than you used to, is certainly interesting enough for me."

"Are you here to take responsibility for me, Amanda?"

"Perhaps." It was perhaps a comical sight, the short blonde witch facing down the speedster with her arms crossed over her chest, but Amanda's stubborness wasn't to be trifled with. "Look, Jean-Paul, I'm not gunna turn you in if you want to keep your head down, but if you're here, there's obviously something not right. What's up?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Jean-Paul said, knowing it wasn't really an answer at all. "If you will excuse me," he offered her a brief, almost mocking half-bow, "I believe there is a curfew at the hostel."

She rolled her eyes a little at that. "Fine," she replied. "Be that way." There was more than one way to skin a cat, after all, and perhaps Jubilee would appreciate a bit more experience in shadowing people without them noticing her.

"Merci, mademoiselle," Jean-Paul said, eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. "By your leave?"

"Night, Jean-Paul. Take care of yourself." Amanda didn't voice her next thought. Or let someone else do it, because you are so not 'fine' it's not funny.