Angelo & Jean-Paul, Saturday Afternoon

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

A chance meeting kept brief, since both Angelo and Jean-Paul are preoccupied with other matters.


Jean-Paul was sitting at a table in a very small cafe in District X, a book open on the table and an espresso within easy reach. He didn't know where Miss Lee might be, but there were no other eateries in the area, which meant he was at least following Morgan's advice to some extent. His next stop would likely be the roof of a building. A very tall building. Where he would continue to read.

After his encounter with Catseye, he'd decided to pick up A Midsummer Night's Dream again, since he was attempting to make his way through the plays he could no longer correctly remember. The window next to his table was large and clear, letting in what light could filter down between the buildings, and Jean-Paul sat back in his chair as he glanced through it.

Luckily for Jean-Paul, the young man sitting a few tables away was paying more attention to the building across the street than to his fellow patrons, and hadn't yet noticed him.

It was only a matter of time, though, unless the grey skin triggered Jean-Paul's memory first.

Reaching for the espresso, Jean-Paul took a sip and leaned forward again, eyes on the iambic pentameter before him rather than whoever might be patronising the cafe. He was tempted to look out the window again, but knew he was within easy sight if people were actually following him. Jacket hanging over the arm of his chair, though, he resisted the urge.

Finally, Angelo did look away from whatever was holding his focus about that nondescript warehouse, glancing around the tiny room. He spotted the other man immediately, even with his face half-hidden.

There was no fuss, no huge scene this time. Just a quiet but clearly audible, "Hey, Jean-Paul."

Looking up slowly, Jean-Paul scanned the tables closest to him before his eyes finally settled on the man who'd called his name. A bit of memory slid itself into place where he'd forgotten it needed to be - the one he'd recalled when Amanda first spotted him. The third person, then.

He needed a name.

It was like sifting through dirt and rock in an effort to find gemstones, really. Hit or miss, no guarantees. But he knew he knew the man. "Oui?" And there was nothing negative coming to the surface for the moment. Just the bistro and Amanda, dinner.

"Angelo", the younger man supplied, studying Jean-Paul's face and the obvious struggle to remember. "Didn't expect to see you here. How're you doin'?"

"Well," Jean-Paul replied, fitting the name to the face. Catseye had warned him that others from the mansion might be in District X. "What brings you here?"

"Checkin' out a buildin' near here", Angelo said with a jerk of his head at the window. "I think there might be people traffickin' goin' on."

That was... an unpleasant possibility. He didn't need to get involved, though. "In District X?"

"You know how it goes. Any time there's any kind of enclave, Chinatown, District X, whatever... people take advantage." His face had turned distinctly unhappy. "Not sure yet, but that warehouse's lookin' like a mutant sweatshop."

Jean-Paul considered the other man, then marked his place in his book and finished off his espresso. "Here, take this table. It has a better line of sight, oui?"

"It does", he agreed readily, already getting up to move. "You can stay, though. If you want. I'll buy you another coffee."

"Non, I have had three already. Thank you, though." He nudged his chair back, then paused to pick up his book. The trafficking issue was none of his business. "Sweatshops - these use children, yes?"

"Usually", was the grim response. "For the delicate work. Adults for stuff that doesn't need little hands... an' in this case, mutants for specialised stuff. It's gonna stop, though."

"Good," Jean-Paul said, sliding the rest of the way back and vacating the chair. "I wish you luck."