Morgan & Jean-Paul, Sunday Night (backdated)

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Morgan stops by to check on Jean-Paul. Hijinks follow quickly on her heels.


A steel toed boot tapped against the floor and Morgan knocked on the door to the suite again. She knew this was the one Jean-Paul had taken up residence in. "You know, I can't pick the electronic lock on these doors but I'm pretty sure my boyfriend can short the thing out so it either locks you in or won't lock at all," she called through the door. After the words were out Morgan realized he might not necessarily mind everyone else being locked out. He could fly, after all. "And then you couldn't keep anyone out. And there are other ways of getting inside that have nothing to do with your door." Windows were so handy. So was the catgirl who was so willing to let Vanessa wander around as a kitty.

Jean-Paul opened the door. He'd been hoping whoever it was would go away, but since it was Morgan, he realised she probably wouldn't. "Boyfriend?"

The metamorph grinned at the Quebecois. "What, that's what gets you to open the door? Being loud and obnoxious and stubbornly not leaving doesn't but when I say boyfriend you open the door? What are you, a fourteen year old girl?"

Leaving the door open for her to come in, if she wanted - which he suspected she did, Jean-Paul moved back through to the kitchenette and picked up his bag of carrots. "No." He ate a carrot. Perhaps he should buy some apples. The green ones were good and crunchy. "It was mostly that you would not go away."

"Good to know what methods of torture work 'round here," she replied as she strolled through the door. A foot nudged it closed behind her and Morgan looked around at the suite. A low whistle sounded. "Man, you have really embraced your 'not gonna be here long' side, haven't you love?" It was like a new apartment of someone who was too busy to unpack. She knew he had stuff coming from Laval, but at the same time she wasn't convinced most people wanted to spend all their time in a bare suite. It was sort of depressing to look at, really.

Shrugging, Jean-Paul glanced around the room. What few things had been on the walls were propped against them on the floor now and the furniture was the bare minimum that had already been in when he'd arrived. "Hopefully, I will not be here long."

"So I'm going to add 'delusional' onto your list of afflictions in my head, just so you know." Sometimes people really didn't stay in the mansion long. Sometimes they got help and got out. Sometimes they just couldn't stick it. And a whole lot of the time people just didn't leave.

"Non," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head. "I have many of these afflictions, but I am realistic about this. The Professor, he can fix whatever is broken and I will go." Because so long as he wasn't blasting people with whatever it was he was doing, then he could at least get away from everyone who'd known him before. They expected things of him, things he could not do any longer. Avoiding them, in the end, was better than disappointing them.

"Maybe, and I'm not saying this to rain on your parade here Sunshine, but maybe you should be realistic about how it might now be that easy for the Professor to just fix you." She remembered working with Charles to get through the problem she'd been having with her powers. Even now Vanessa wasn't entirely sure she was fixed because she simply hadn't been put into the position that had gotten her messed up to begin with. "Charles is smart and he's a powerful telepath, but people don't just require you to press a button and, voila, they are fixed. Hate to say it, sweet pea, but you might be stuck here for a while just because of that."

Jean-Paul wasn't going to mention that he wasn't sure he could actually let Professor Xavier into his mind to fix anything. He wanted to be able to, but it might not happen. Still, if he told himself he would be leaving, then perhaps he could convince himself to work through his issues. He ate another carrot. "We will see." A short pause while he crunched his way through that carrot, jaw flexing, before he asked, "Do you want one?"

She considered the carrot for a moment. Morgan was a big fan of carrots and vegetables in general. On the other hand, Jean-Paul seemed to be using his chomping as a sort of catharsis and who was she to begrudge someone their catharsis. "No thanks." She was watching him again. The line of his spine, the way his shoulders were set, the cant of his hips. She was continuing to study him all over again so she could adjust, redefine and re-establish a dynamic between them. Assuming he didn't decide to be rid of her, anyway.

Propping himself up against the counter, Jean-Paul shrugged and continued eating his carrots for a few moments before saying, "It is possible that I will be here longer than I would like." What he really wanted was a very large pot of pasta. With a cream sauce. And mushrooms. There should be chicken involved. He vaguely remembered making something like that, but it was just the tail end of the memory, the finished product, that he recalled clearly, nothing of the actual process.

"It's entirely possible that it doesn't have to feel like a prison term, too." She had the distinct impression that he was sort of looking at it that way. Unlike Lex Jean-Paul hadn't been remanded into Xavier's custody. It wasn't a sentence. He could come or go and only the Snow Valley folk would bother him much over it. But then again, without her to announce their snooping to him he'd likely never notice them anyway.

"It is not the place that bothers me," Jean-Paul replied, still thinking about the pasta, the cream sauce, the mushrooms. He could add thyme, he'd bet. If he could remember why that seemed like a good idea. If he could figure out where the recipe came from to make it. He was getting tired of deli sandwiches and potato chips.

Indeed, that was why he was chomping on the carrots now. And why he had snow peas in the refrigerator. He wasn't entirely sure the refrigerator in the kitchenette was working, though. It didn't seem cold - but he'd never been particularly good at distinguishing when things were cold, anyway. "I think that it is better to not be near people - students." He let that statement hang for a moment before actually looking at Morgan again and saying, "Who is this boyfriend you mentioned? And why could he ruin my electronic lock?"

"It's the students you're worried about?" She raised an eyebrow and considered that. She could certainly respect that. Morgan had gotten fairly attached to the kids at the mansion when she'd been their teacher, attached enough to threaten Carmilla Black outright if she hurt them when the annoyance had first shown up. "I've got a spare room," she offered. "I can move some stuff around. It can be yours when you're having a bad night and don't want to risk the kids 'round here?" In classic Morgan fashion, she completely ignored the question about her boyfriend.

"You have a spare room?" Jean-Paul quirked a brow, putting the bag of carrots down for a moment before pointing at her. "A name, Morgan. For this boy you are friends with."

"I have a spare room," she confirmed with a nod. "I had one at the brownstone, too. The one in the penthouse is bigger." A smile appeared on her lips. Morgan's expression was one of someone dangling bait in front of someone. "And it's at the top of Adrienne's office building. High up. Very high up. I could leave the window open for you." Her boyfriend was not the important point here.

"I will take you up on that offer, if you are not careful," Jean-Paul said, picking up a carrot and eating it down to the dried little bit at the end that didn't really taste good, anyway. "He is imaginary, is he not? This is why he has no name."

She just grinned. "You're right. Electro-boy is totally fictional. But it makes me feel good at night to pretend I have a boyfriend." The smirk was instant and went so well with that small waggle of eyebrows. "And then I can pretend its his hand..."

"Does he require batteries, this imaginary, electric friend of yours?"

"Mm...no. He's very green energy. Powered by the sun and compost."

"Compost?" Tossing the tiny bit of dried up carrot-end to Morgan, Jean-Paul smirked a little and said, "Here, to help him power up later."

Catching the carrot stub, Morgan grasped it between thumb and forefinger. She held it up to the light and looked at it with a squinting eye. "I should be able to get a good five, maybe ten minutes out of him with this, love. Thanks!"

"He is tiny enough to have that keep him going for five to ten minutes?" Jean-Paul shook his head. "You need a better imagination."

"He's energy efficient, mi amor," she defended. It was incredibly hard to keep up the straight face, though. With mental images of Lex vibrating once the carrot stub was fed into his 'secret compartment' running through her mind the corners of her mouth kept twitching.

"Energy efficient? Oui..." Jean-Paul agreed, nodding. "Et très petit." He held up his thumb and forefinger, squinting one eye as the distance between them kept getting smaller and smaller.

Morgan threw the carrot stub at Jean-Paul, aiming between his eyes. She was fairly certain he'd just dodge it with his super speed, but it would would have been a killshot otherwise. "He's not that pequeño, mi amor."

Jean-Paul stepped to the side, then moved over to the couch - all before the bit of carrot passed through the space where he'd been standing. "Très, très petit," he repeated, laughing softly.

"You." She shook her finger at him and very seriously considered trying to tackle him. Only then he'd dodge and she'd end up breaking the coffee table or something. Of course, she could pout until Lex took pity and massaged all her poor, hurt spots. Oh decisions, decisions. The metamorph took slow, deliberate steps forward while she decided. "No, non pequeño. Eres un hombre terrible."

Taking a step backward for every step forward that Morgan took, Jean-Paul grinned. "Was that even all Spanish?"

Morgan started to shuffle forward with double steps, effectively chasing him around the couch. "Si, señor. Todo es en español."

"Pretty accent," Jean-Paul said, managing to stay out of her reach - much faster, though, and he was going to end up heading for the ceiling. Not that it was terribly high, but perhaps she wouldn't expect it and he could avoid getting beaten for implying her boyfriend, whoever he might be, had a very tiny penis.

"Gracias. Es de Colombia." Marguerite had been from Colombia. It was Vanessa's first long time mimic. It was also the reason she'd learned Spanish in the first place. Morgan's pace quickened in her ridiculous pursuit of the speedster. She was getting closer but she knew that wouldn't last if he didn't want it to. So she tried to angle him into a corner or at least against a wall so she could trap him.

There was a corner and it looked suspiciously like he was going to be backed into it. Jean-Paul didn't pause to think, just arched up, over Morgan's head. He nearly hit the light in the ceiling, but ducked in time to avoid that whilst heading for the window.

Morgan did have quick reflexes. She also had height that people liked to refer to as being Amazonian. That meant when Jean-Paul went upward she jumped. He was parallel to the floor which was awesome for grabbing him. Unfortunately it was his belt she grabbed. "Eres mío!" And then she realized she was moving, while holding onto him.

The metamorph looked down to see her dangling feet and the floor below them moving. Well, the floor wasn't moving. Was that the wall coming up? Oh fuck.

Jean-Paul had to concentrate harder to stay up whilst she was hanging onto him, but it wasn't all that difficult. He was still heading for the window, though. "Raise your feet," he said with a grin, glad he'd left the bay window open wide.

She...was going to kill him. Her jaw dropped but Morgan pulled her knees up to her chest, feet tucked under her. And there went the window. Bye, bye window! And...fuck. They'd been on the second floor, huh? That was okay. She could fall from this height without actually getting seriously injured. Just some bumps. Some soreness. As long as he didn't go up.

His back scraped against the top of the window frame as he flew them out and then he paused for a moment, hovering several feet away from the building. "You do not have a fear of heights, do you, aime?" Jean-Paul began to rise very, very slowly, expression mischievous as he looked down at her, grasping his belt.

"Heights? Nah. You know that bit about being trained as a sniper, don't you? Snipers? We hide in very tall buildings and on cliffs and tops of mountains and shite." Morgan pulled herself up closer to him and then let go of his belt with one hand. It was a damn good thing she was so stupidly disciplined about all that working out she'd done since she'd left Mag Ealga or she'd be screwed right now. It was just like climbing a rock, really.

Her free hand reached up and got hold of Jean-Paul's belt at the small of his back. "You know, I've had thoughts about climbing you before. That was a totally different context, though."

They were level with the tops of the trees near the mansion now and Jean-Paul stopped again, holding himself still as she moved so that he could make sure he didn't actually drop her by accident. "Your little electric friend might object to you having those thoughts."

"They pre-date my little electric friend by more than a year there, pet," she told him. Hmm, now the question was whether the grip on the back of his belt was good enough to let go of the front of it. "Might help to know I was wearing a man when I was having them. But he was too tall to climb you anyway, really. More a being climbed thing. And a pinning thing. Lots of pinning thoughts." Morgan said it all very offhand and casual, as if you thought about fucking your friends until their eyes rolled back in their heads all the time. Everyone did that, right?

She was just about to move so she could hook her leg up around him when the buckle of his belt shifted. Belt buckles were not meant to hold weight. And they pulled out. Which meant the belt was slipping. Quick, either she needed to get a better grip on him or she needed to take the fall. Vanessa made the decision to go for the grip. Her hand at his back tightened its hold but the belt gave way too quickly and her other hand's grip was suddenly useless. Her body weight and gravity destroyed her chances of her other hand getting a better grip on the man. Looks like she was practicing falling today. That was okay, you needed to brush up on these things, right? This might hurt, though.

Jean-Paul tutted at the expression on Morgan's face when he took hold of her wrists, moving quickly enough that she didn't drop more than a couple of feet before he had her again. "Tsk, we will need to work on your climbing. And also, you owe me a belt." He flew them over to the mansion, setting her carefully on the roof.

Well if he was going to grab her by the wrists then she was going to swing. What else was she going to do? "My climbing's fine. Your belt's not up for high intensity interactions. I'll get you a better one. Black or brown?" She wasn't sure the belt was actually ruined, just undone. What did she do? Looked up and straight at Jean-Paul's crotch to find out. Eh, it was a little worse for the wear. Not unusable but she'd get him a new one anyway. Belt, that was. She was pretty sure his crotch was fine.

"You know you're supposed to hold someone by the elbow, not the wrist, right?" She could feel her wrists slipping in his grasp but before she could slip too far her feet were on the roof. "Hmm, don't end up here much. Or ever." Morgan rubbed at one wrist. Jesus, death grip much? She appreciated the grip on her and all, but still. That was going to bruise. Blue skin bruised purple. Fun times. She could explain that to electro-boy later when he gave her squinty eyes over it.

"Apologies," Jean-Paul said, settling himself next to her. "And black, of course. I am not used to dropping people, you see. I will make sure I catch the next person I drop by the elbows." He offered her a rueful sort of smile. Then he tipped his head back and looked upward, at the stars. "It is a good night to be looking up, oui?"

"Good man." She gave a single, firm nod and then turned her eyes upward. It really was a gorgeous night. Even if it was maybe a little too cold for what she was wearing at the moment. "Aye. It'd be a good night to be a flier, I bet. I'm jealous, you can get up there any time you want. The rest of us are land-bound. Man's greatest dream is to fly." Morgan smiled a little and bumped his hip with her own. "What're the odds of me getting you to stick up here, roof-bound, with me for a while?"

"Fairly good," Jean-Paul answered honestly, still looking up. People weren't likely to come looking for him on the roof. And when they found the suite empty, perhaps they'd think they'd found the wrong one.

The answer made her grin. Morgan looped an arm through his, not holding on tightly so much as just holding on. "Good, I'm not ready to give you back yet."