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xp_logs2010-01-30 08:00 pm
x-pyromania.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2010-01-30 08:00 pm
Jean-Paul | John - Saturday Evening
'Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.' -Benjamin Franklin-
The bar was quiet tonight as with most nights. The small establishment had only a few frequent visitors and Tom, small time business owner and bartender didn't seem to mind the fact. John sat at the counter and ordered his first drink.
"I'll have the usual," he said.
The usual consisted of a double shot of whiskey followed by a few bottles of beer. John took a paperback novel out of his jacket pocket and flipped through the pages, preparing to settle comfortably into his weekend routine.
Jean-Paul landed at the back of the building where, hopefully, no one would notice his sudden descent, and then leaned against the brick wall. Sweat beaded his forehead and the back of his neck, seeping through fabric to dampen it just enough so it would stick to his skin - he'd pushed himself harder today than he'd meant to. Than he should have, perhaps... and now he was winded, tired, and in desperate need of water. Food would come later, once he'd found something that he could either make without destroying or simply open to eat.
Walking around to the front after he'd caught his breath, he paused outside the door to the bar. A small establishment, but likely to have something he could find palatable - it was, after all, difficult to ruin water. What sweat hadn't dried since he landed he wiped off and then pushed the door open. There were few enough people inside.
He walked to the bar and, after the bartender had finished giving another patron his drink, Jean-Paul ordered water for himself and settled on one of the stools.
The man's accent caught John's attention, pulling his focus away from the book he'd been reading. Curiosity drove him to throw a glance at the newcomer and he did a double take when he realized that he actually knew the guy.
What the hell was Jean-Paul doing here? And had he really just ordered water?
"Tom's still gonna charge you a hefty amount for that. Drinking water's harder to get here than regular beer. Taps gone rusty a while ago."
Jean-Paul's eyes flicked over to the other man, fractured memories aligning into something akin to coherence. "Does he charge more for ice, also?"
John chuckled. "Probably not if he takes it from the urinal." He shrugged. "So you don't drink?"
"Alcohol dehydrates," Jean-Paul replied. "I need water." The bartender sat a glass down in front of him and he downed it without thinking about the urinal comment. The establishment would cease to exist if such things really happened. Nudging the now empty glass back toward the bartender, Jean-Paul waited for a refill before looking back at the younger man. "John, oui?"
"Yes." He nodded and then considered going back to his book. John was not one for conversations much less small talk but he couldn't quite ignore that nagging pull of curiosity that hadn't yet disappeared after that initial acknowledgment and decided to further contribute to the conversation to see where it would lead.
"Haven't seen you in a long while."
"I have not been here for a long while," Jean-Paul replied, brows rising a bit as Tom gave him his second glass of water. He drank it a little more slowly this time, but still needed a third before he continued, "Do they have food here?"
"Yeah. Hey Tom, why don't you get him the house specialty, huh?" John watched as the old man grunted once and then headed into the kitchen. House specialty indeed. The only thing on the menu was your regular old burger and fries. "They don't have much." He jerked his thumb at the menu board.
'BERGER & FRYS' horribly misspelled was written in large capital letters.
"You feeling alright? You don't look too good."
Jean-Paul had a suspicious feeling that he was going to die of food poisoning before the night was through. "Fine, merci." He wondered how many people actually believed him when he said that. Morgan and Adrienne... hadn't. Probably no one did, really. But it was better than attempting to have some kind of heart to heart with people that he used to know while he couldn't actually piece the right memories together. "This house specialty, it is simply the burger with the potato fries, oui?" He was still pretty sure he was going to die of whatever might be growing on the meat before it was cooked.
John let out an amused smile. "I really wouldn't know. Haven't tried it myself. I'm usually just here for the..." He looked around them. "Extremely dilapidated environment."
Glancing around the room himself, Jean-Paul sipped at his third glass of water, feeling a bit better than when he'd walked into the place, and said, "It has its charm." Mostly, he suspected the charm lay in the fact that people were more likely to leave you alone than attempt to lure you into conversation... this particularly instance aside, of course.
"That it does." John had returned his attention to his book but looked up when Tom brought the food around. The plate was filled to the brim on one side with fries and a generous serving of coleslaw and next to it were two burgers and one half of a bun with cheese and exactly two slices of mushrooms on it.
It looked decent enough to eat.
John raised his eyebrows at Jean-Paul. "Bon appétit."
"Merci," Jean-Paul muttered, eying the food and then deciding to just go for it. Life couldn't get much worse - what was a bit of food poisoning when compared to everything else, after all? Picking it up, he took a hearty bite. It was better than a deli sandwich, at least. And it was hot. Very hot, actually. He burnt his tongue, but couldn't be bothered with caring overmuch. Once the food was in his mouth, his appetite really did kick in and he realised that, in addition to being very thirsty, he was now starving.
Perhaps there was something to all the talk of him looking thin, after all.
A few bites later, he looked over at the younger man and raised his eyebrows. "What are you reading?"
"'I Am the Messenger'." He showed Jean-Paul the cover of the book. On it was a picture of a court jester. "It's about this oddball called Ed who goes on a mission to save some poor unfortunate souls. Pretty easy reading. Found it while I was packing my stuff up. Must have bought it some time ago. I don't even remember."
John closed the book and took a few swallows of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after he was done.
"So you based at the mansion? Or do you live around here? Cause I haven't seen you around." And that could very well be because he tended to sneak in and out of the place during odd hours and always tried his best to avoid bumping into anyone. John was turning into quite the hermit.
"The mansion," Jean-Paul replied, searching for a napkin that did not exist. He wound up wiping his own mouth with the back of his hand as he finished off the burger. Still hungry. He still had a huge pile of fries and that slaw to go through, though. He might order a second serving, though, if that didn't fill him. "Flew farther than I intended. Stopped to rest for a bit before continuing on. You live here?"
"At the mansion, yeah." He didn't bother to mention that he'd be moving out soon. John tended to prefer the focus to be on the person he was talking to. "So you've been flying." John was watching him with interest now. "Certainly looks like you overdid it." Jean-Paul was eating like a man who'd been starved for days, and despite saying otherwise, he didn't look too good.
"Are you training or something?"
"Or something," Jean-Paul said, polishing off an impressive number of fries in one bite. Tom wandered over again and Jean-Paul managed to order another burger without actually saying anything or opening his food-filled mouth. Some manners he'd managed to retain, at least, whilst others seemed to have flown out the window. Water - water was a wonderful thing. "To do with powers. The training, I mean."
"Right." John left it at that, respecting the man's need to be vague. "Hey look, if you're not planning on killing yourself tonight and need a ride back to the mansion..." He'd borrowed one of the many cars parked in the garage sans permission. More specifically, he'd taken Scott's. He'd probably get hell for it later but in his defense, the keys were just hanging there.
"No, I thank you, but I will manage," Jean-Paul replied, immediately shying away from the thought of climbing into a car. He wasn't sure where his sudden dislike of them had come from - early in life, he'd feared them, yes. But it had been years since he'd felt the knee-jerk panic that the thought of being in one once caused. Now, though, it was common-place. "It is good of you to offer, but the flying - it is good for me."
"Okay." John nodded and placed a few bills on the counter for Tom, enough to cover both their orders. "I gotta jet. Got to get an early start to the day tomorrow and I need my eight hours." Or he'd be a grouch all day. John took hold of his jacket and slipped it on.
"You take it easy, alright?"
"And you," Jean-Paul replied, nodding his thanks to the younger man. It wasn't until after his second burger and his fifth glass of water, when he tried to pay, that he was told the other man had put down enough to cover the food as well as his own drinks. Somewhat surprised, Jean-Paul thanked Tom and then headed outside so he could fly back to the mansion. That had been... a strange meeting, but not unpleasant or uncomfortable.
The bar was quiet tonight as with most nights. The small establishment had only a few frequent visitors and Tom, small time business owner and bartender didn't seem to mind the fact. John sat at the counter and ordered his first drink.
"I'll have the usual," he said.
The usual consisted of a double shot of whiskey followed by a few bottles of beer. John took a paperback novel out of his jacket pocket and flipped through the pages, preparing to settle comfortably into his weekend routine.
Jean-Paul landed at the back of the building where, hopefully, no one would notice his sudden descent, and then leaned against the brick wall. Sweat beaded his forehead and the back of his neck, seeping through fabric to dampen it just enough so it would stick to his skin - he'd pushed himself harder today than he'd meant to. Than he should have, perhaps... and now he was winded, tired, and in desperate need of water. Food would come later, once he'd found something that he could either make without destroying or simply open to eat.
Walking around to the front after he'd caught his breath, he paused outside the door to the bar. A small establishment, but likely to have something he could find palatable - it was, after all, difficult to ruin water. What sweat hadn't dried since he landed he wiped off and then pushed the door open. There were few enough people inside.
He walked to the bar and, after the bartender had finished giving another patron his drink, Jean-Paul ordered water for himself and settled on one of the stools.
The man's accent caught John's attention, pulling his focus away from the book he'd been reading. Curiosity drove him to throw a glance at the newcomer and he did a double take when he realized that he actually knew the guy.
What the hell was Jean-Paul doing here? And had he really just ordered water?
"Tom's still gonna charge you a hefty amount for that. Drinking water's harder to get here than regular beer. Taps gone rusty a while ago."
Jean-Paul's eyes flicked over to the other man, fractured memories aligning into something akin to coherence. "Does he charge more for ice, also?"
John chuckled. "Probably not if he takes it from the urinal." He shrugged. "So you don't drink?"
"Alcohol dehydrates," Jean-Paul replied. "I need water." The bartender sat a glass down in front of him and he downed it without thinking about the urinal comment. The establishment would cease to exist if such things really happened. Nudging the now empty glass back toward the bartender, Jean-Paul waited for a refill before looking back at the younger man. "John, oui?"
"Yes." He nodded and then considered going back to his book. John was not one for conversations much less small talk but he couldn't quite ignore that nagging pull of curiosity that hadn't yet disappeared after that initial acknowledgment and decided to further contribute to the conversation to see where it would lead.
"Haven't seen you in a long while."
"I have not been here for a long while," Jean-Paul replied, brows rising a bit as Tom gave him his second glass of water. He drank it a little more slowly this time, but still needed a third before he continued, "Do they have food here?"
"Yeah. Hey Tom, why don't you get him the house specialty, huh?" John watched as the old man grunted once and then headed into the kitchen. House specialty indeed. The only thing on the menu was your regular old burger and fries. "They don't have much." He jerked his thumb at the menu board.
'BERGER & FRYS' horribly misspelled was written in large capital letters.
"You feeling alright? You don't look too good."
Jean-Paul had a suspicious feeling that he was going to die of food poisoning before the night was through. "Fine, merci." He wondered how many people actually believed him when he said that. Morgan and Adrienne... hadn't. Probably no one did, really. But it was better than attempting to have some kind of heart to heart with people that he used to know while he couldn't actually piece the right memories together. "This house specialty, it is simply the burger with the potato fries, oui?" He was still pretty sure he was going to die of whatever might be growing on the meat before it was cooked.
John let out an amused smile. "I really wouldn't know. Haven't tried it myself. I'm usually just here for the..." He looked around them. "Extremely dilapidated environment."
Glancing around the room himself, Jean-Paul sipped at his third glass of water, feeling a bit better than when he'd walked into the place, and said, "It has its charm." Mostly, he suspected the charm lay in the fact that people were more likely to leave you alone than attempt to lure you into conversation... this particularly instance aside, of course.
"That it does." John had returned his attention to his book but looked up when Tom brought the food around. The plate was filled to the brim on one side with fries and a generous serving of coleslaw and next to it were two burgers and one half of a bun with cheese and exactly two slices of mushrooms on it.
It looked decent enough to eat.
John raised his eyebrows at Jean-Paul. "Bon appétit."
"Merci," Jean-Paul muttered, eying the food and then deciding to just go for it. Life couldn't get much worse - what was a bit of food poisoning when compared to everything else, after all? Picking it up, he took a hearty bite. It was better than a deli sandwich, at least. And it was hot. Very hot, actually. He burnt his tongue, but couldn't be bothered with caring overmuch. Once the food was in his mouth, his appetite really did kick in and he realised that, in addition to being very thirsty, he was now starving.
Perhaps there was something to all the talk of him looking thin, after all.
A few bites later, he looked over at the younger man and raised his eyebrows. "What are you reading?"
"'I Am the Messenger'." He showed Jean-Paul the cover of the book. On it was a picture of a court jester. "It's about this oddball called Ed who goes on a mission to save some poor unfortunate souls. Pretty easy reading. Found it while I was packing my stuff up. Must have bought it some time ago. I don't even remember."
John closed the book and took a few swallows of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after he was done.
"So you based at the mansion? Or do you live around here? Cause I haven't seen you around." And that could very well be because he tended to sneak in and out of the place during odd hours and always tried his best to avoid bumping into anyone. John was turning into quite the hermit.
"The mansion," Jean-Paul replied, searching for a napkin that did not exist. He wound up wiping his own mouth with the back of his hand as he finished off the burger. Still hungry. He still had a huge pile of fries and that slaw to go through, though. He might order a second serving, though, if that didn't fill him. "Flew farther than I intended. Stopped to rest for a bit before continuing on. You live here?"
"At the mansion, yeah." He didn't bother to mention that he'd be moving out soon. John tended to prefer the focus to be on the person he was talking to. "So you've been flying." John was watching him with interest now. "Certainly looks like you overdid it." Jean-Paul was eating like a man who'd been starved for days, and despite saying otherwise, he didn't look too good.
"Are you training or something?"
"Or something," Jean-Paul said, polishing off an impressive number of fries in one bite. Tom wandered over again and Jean-Paul managed to order another burger without actually saying anything or opening his food-filled mouth. Some manners he'd managed to retain, at least, whilst others seemed to have flown out the window. Water - water was a wonderful thing. "To do with powers. The training, I mean."
"Right." John left it at that, respecting the man's need to be vague. "Hey look, if you're not planning on killing yourself tonight and need a ride back to the mansion..." He'd borrowed one of the many cars parked in the garage sans permission. More specifically, he'd taken Scott's. He'd probably get hell for it later but in his defense, the keys were just hanging there.
"No, I thank you, but I will manage," Jean-Paul replied, immediately shying away from the thought of climbing into a car. He wasn't sure where his sudden dislike of them had come from - early in life, he'd feared them, yes. But it had been years since he'd felt the knee-jerk panic that the thought of being in one once caused. Now, though, it was common-place. "It is good of you to offer, but the flying - it is good for me."
"Okay." John nodded and placed a few bills on the counter for Tom, enough to cover both their orders. "I gotta jet. Got to get an early start to the day tomorrow and I need my eight hours." Or he'd be a grouch all day. John took hold of his jacket and slipped it on.
"You take it easy, alright?"
"And you," Jean-Paul replied, nodding his thanks to the younger man. It wasn't until after his second burger and his fifth glass of water, when he tried to pay, that he was told the other man had put down enough to cover the food as well as his own drinks. Somewhat surprised, Jean-Paul thanked Tom and then headed outside so he could fly back to the mansion. That had been... a strange meeting, but not unpleasant or uncomfortable.