Warren & Jean-Paul, Tuesday Evening (backdated)

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Warren and Jean-Paul meet in the skies over New York.


Flying in the skies of New York City wasn't always the best of ideas, but Warren had found he could work it quite fine, if he kept to certain areas and stayed quite high up. He tended to also favor wearing sunglasses and a beanie, just in case there were people with sharp eyes (or cameras) around. He was out by himself today, soaring over District X and generally, he thought, minding his own business.

After a particularly difficult series of nightmares, Jean-Paul had risen early, straightened the room as best he could, and then taken to the skies in an effort to avoid any and everyone. He'd been successful, thus far. That is, of course, until he realised he was heading on something of a collision course with someone sporting very large, very white wings. He considered swooping either higher or lower, considering he was moving at such high speeds, but there was something vaguely familiar about the other person occupying the air.

Jean-Paul didn't move, but Warren did, pulling himself up enough out of the way so he didn't crash into them. He frowned, glaring at the person in question.

"Pardon," Jean-Paul said, brow furrowing as he brought himself to a stop in front of the other person.

Warren pulled himself in to hover, still glaring and folding his arms across his chest. Now that he was closer, he could see who it was, and it didn't improve his annoyance all that much. "Has it ever occurred to you that you're not the only person in the skies?"

"Many times. This does not mean I like the fact," Jean-Paul returned, eyes narrowing a bit as he caught sight of the other man's expression.

Warren resisted the urge to roll his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "Well perhaps you should, if you're going to be flying over this city. Just because I'm fast enough to move out of your way, doesn't mean everyone else is going to be. And you of all people should know better."

"You are worried I would ruffle your feathers? I would not have run into you," Jean-Paul said, snorting softly. He couldn't recall specifically why this man with the impressive wingspan seemed so annoyed with him. It was possible he hadn't done anything, but then again, that wasn't probable.

"Mine? Not at all. But I have seen other residents of the city in the air, and they do not have the training that I do." Warren was starting to get the feeling that Jean-Paul didn't remember who he was, and he couldn't decide whether he was relieved or annoyed by this.

"As I said," Jean-Paul replied. "I would not have run into you. I will not run into anyone else." If there was one thing he was certain of, at least, it was that this, at least, made sense. Flying was ingrained, bone-deep, something that even Shrine couldn't cut out. Not that the man had tried. No, that hadn't been the purpose of his botched reprogramming. "You fret needlessly."

"It wouldn't have been the first time you'd run into me, Jean-Paul," Warren replied, rolling his eyes a little. "But if you insist." Warren honestly didn't have anything else to say to him, so he started to move again, his wings beating strongly to get him back moving.

Well, that was unfortunate. Apparently Jean-Paul did know the man. He shrugged, though, since whoever he was, he didn't seem particularly interested in continuing the conversation. That was quite alright, so far as Jean-Paul was concerned. "Adieu."

"I'm sure I'll see you around," Warren called back, climbing back up into the sky. Warren didn't seem particularly thrilled by the idea, but they were sharing the same air space once again. It was inevitable.