xp_logs | Jean-Paul and Kevin | late Saturday night

Kevin investigates a light on in the boathouse late at night only to discover a very odd scene.

The boathouse had a fireplace. This was convenient for many reasons, but the one that Jean-Paul felt most thankful for, at the moment, was that it was easily accessible. That, and far enough from the mansion that people wouldn't wonder what was going on until after he'd finished burning the clothing he'd worn while dumping Morgan's attackers into various and sundry large bodies of water.

He held up the pair of jeans, once again decided that attempting to pass the stains off as something like paint would be in poor taste, and then tossed them onto the fire he'd made in the fireplace. Picking up the poker, Jean-Paul nudged the pieces of shirt into the centre of the embers to make sure they were burning, then got the jeans and his socks situated as well. One of the socks, though, conspicuously spattered, fell out and he bent to retrieve it.

Kevin had been on his way back to the mansion from time spent in the woods. He needed to collect stuff for powers training or art projects, though he was pretty sure some would start as one and end up as the other anyway. He caught sight of the light in the boathouse and wondered who was in there, or if a fire had been set and the whole thing was going to burn down. That'd be their luck, right? On the bright side, he was pretty sure Miss Munroe could put a fire out herself with enough rain anyway.

Wandering up to the nearest window to the light, the artist caught sight of the former Literature teacher stripping off clothes and feeding them to the fire. Had he missed the memo where clothes were the devil and Xavier's was going nudist? This was weird, which meant someone should probably check on the guy. No one else was around. It could wait until Kevin could get to someone more qualified to talk to people, right? Like, um, well, anyone else? He watched Jean-Paul prod the fire with a poker and get his clothes back into the flame. Okay, waiting was maybe not a good idea.

It was only after he'd come through the front door that Kevin wondered if he might get a hot poker to his groin for interfering. If Jean-Paul had really gotten crazy or mind wiped or possessed or something that was possible, huh? Yeah, he should have thought of that first.

The board under his foot made enough noise to announce the younger man's presence and Kevin cursed himself just a little bit. After a deep breath he rather casually said, "Yeah, 'cause that don't look shady none, does it?"

At least, Jean-Paul reflected, he'd gotten the excess blood off of himself. Turning to face the younger man, he raised his eyebrows, expression pure innocence - would that even work on younger people these days? Weren't they supposed to be the once attempting to convince others of their innocence? Oh well. He'd give it a shot. "Shady?"

"Yeah, shady. Y'know, grown man finds the only empty place on the property to burn almost everything he's wearing? Shady. Like covering up murders and bank heists kinda shady." Maybe the word shady wasn't translating. "Or suspicious if y'wanna be less colloquial." Where had Kevin even learned the word 'colloquial'? Community college, where artists got smarter through osmosis.

"Oh, and that look?" Kevin gestured vaguely in the older man's direction. "Not really that effective when you're mostly naked and lit by fire. Just for future reference 'n all."

"This depends on the effect I was hoping to have, I think," Jean-Paul said, pushing the blood-spattered sock into the fire and prodding it a bit before reaching for the clean pair of jeans he'd brought with him from his suite. The smile he gave the younger man was all teasing flirtation. The only clean shirt he'd had was a collared one, so he finished buttoning up his pants and then pulled on the plain white shirt. "But I have not done these things, the murdering and the robbing of banks." Which was true. Points for not lying, at least. What could he say, though, that would also be true and get them on a track less likely to wind up in some kind of awkward silence? Or worse, that would get Kevin asking questions Jean-Paul couldn't answer?

"My therapist, he says it is good to rid myself of things that remind me of things past. I do not think this works, but he suggested it." Not the burning clothing, but throwing away things that he associated with negative events in his life. Which sort of amounted to the same thing. A bit. "What would you do, though, if I was covering up a murder? Just for the sake of asking?"

The smile threw Kevin entirely off balance because he wasn't sure where it had come from or why. He actually stopped to look around and figure out if there was someone else that smile was intended for. Kevin knew the kind of smile it was, one similar had come his way plenty of times from Jay and Kevin was pretty sure on his more extroverted days his own version had been directed at various others. That smile more than the attempted diversion of topic distracted Kevin. Confusion was really effective in distracting the Southerner.

"If you really were?" Um, right, he needed an answer. A good answer. Darn, Kevin didn't have one. "Did they deserve it?"

Oh, that was interesting. The smile quirked upward just the tiniest bit more, but Jean-Paul managed to hold it in check, eyes crinkling at the corner as he chuckled. "Oui, if I did these things, they would have been deserved."

Kevin cleared his throat. Other people talking was awesome because it meant he didn't have to, but then they stopped speaking and there was an issue. There was a potentially crazy Quebecois burning clothes, maybe murdering people and looking at him the way Jay used to a very long time ago. And on top of that Jean-Paul seemed to abandon his efforts at putting clothes on because wasn't that shirt supposed to be buttoning right about now? It was too late to abort, right? He cleared his throat again, it helped to clear his head.

"Uh, well, if you murdered people and they deserved it and then," he trailed off, eyes shifting to the fire, "burned all your clothes 'cause you were covered in blood from your bloody, righteous slaughter?" Er, right. His eyes shifted back to the older man. With the smile. Bad plan, he should have kept looking at the fire. Kevin cleared his throat a third time but points for neither fidgeting or fleeing, right? "Ah'd find someone qualified to deal with that situation. But not Garrison. 'Cause Ah'm pretty sure he'd arrest you and if they deserved it you probably shouldn't really be arrested. And sayin' that's kinda shady, too, actually." He wasn't sure how his parents would have felt about that moral standpoint. They hadn't lived long enough to inform Kevin if it was okay to kill someone so long as they really, really deserved it. No, that really sounded wrong now that he thought about it.

"It is a good thing I did not have to... how did you put it? Slaughter people righteously, oui?" Jean-Paul began rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, each movement careful, slow. "But I thank you, for the thought that you would not report my hypothetical crime to Monsieur Kane." One sleeve up, one to go.

Who rolled up their sleeves before buttoning their shirt? "Right, well, um, you're welcome?" Way to be awkward, Ford. Really, he could handle this entirely bizarre situation. And then run away and maybe tell Haller that Jean-Paul was possibly crazy but also possibly just exorcising his demons. Or something. Haller could look into it. Or get someone else to. "But not really an issue since you're just burning your past and all." Kevin didn't sound like he believed it, but that was just his general confusion finally getting into his voice.

"Exorcising demons, oui? This is how it is called, I think," Jean-Paul said, then picked up the poker and settled back on his heels so he could make sure the clothing was burning. He was not going to outright lie to the young man, at least. He could have made up some story about his sister, but he didn't want to bring Jeanne-Marie into this. That would have been introducing a very real personal demon to the discussion and he wasn't interested in that at all. "What were you doing out here this evening?"

The moment Jean-Paul's back was toward him Kevin began to quietly inch backward. Somewhere there was a logical part of his brain pointing out that inching away from a speedster was entirely useless, but who needed logic when you could be irrational? The question, though, stopped his slow progression of escape. "Ah was collectin' wood." Kevin damn near facepalmed over that gem of a statement. Not too innuendo-filled, was it?

Turning to look over his shoulder, Jean-Paul quirked an eyebrow. His tone was dry as he asked, "Collecting wood?"

"Powers training," Kevin said flatly by way of explanation. There was a hole somewhere beneath him and it was getting bigger every time he opened his mouth so he would just stop talking any minute now.

"I see," Jean-Paul said, though he didn't. Not really. "Forgive me, if you would prefer not to answer, but I am curious. What is your mutation?"

He didn't know? Of course he didn't know, why would he? He'd picked up on Kevin being a giant do not touch sign because of the way Kevin was handling things in the kitchen but his mutation could've been a number of things even then. "Ah decompose organic matter. Wood, cotton, silk, skin, bone, blood," his voice got quieter and more serious as the list went on until he just dropped off silently.

"Ah," Jean-Paul said, nodding slowly. He didn't ask how the younger man knew about the last several things he'd said he could decompose. It seemed a wise decision, really. Eyes still on the younger man, he tipped his head toward the fire and said, "I have water, vegetables, and hummus, if you would like to stay while I finish ridding myself of unhappy memories."

"No, thanks." Kevin had his own unhappy memories flowing back to the surface now. They didn't strike as deeply or sting as badly as they once had, but they were the worst memories of his life regardless. "Ah just wanted to make sure you were," sane, "okay. Since you are Ah can just...go."

"If you would like," Jean-Paul said, nodding equably. "Your concern, it is appreciated." Turning back to the fire, he prodded the charred remains of his clothing, then settled more comfortably on the floor. Looking back toward Kevin, he gave the Southerner another smile, this one a little gentler. "Oui, merci, mon ami." There was something very lonely in the way he sat before the fire, the poker laid beside him, his tray of vegetables and hummus nearby. A silent, solitary vigil was all he would have this evening and it was very, very obvious that he didn't relish the thought.

Kevin was pulling off a glove when he said, "Ah dunno what 'mon ami' means." His accent on the two words sounded much more Cajun than actual French. He was from the South, thus closer to New Orleans than France or Quebec. A finger traced along the broken piece of wood he held in his other hand. His eyes were on the flames as his skin moved over the coarse, uneven grain. Kevin was utterly still except for that one, small, fluid movement.

"It means 'my friend,'" Jean-Paul said, drawing his knees up so he could circle them with his arms. The cold didn't bother him, not really, but even he could admit that sometimes it was nice to feel the heat of a fire. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he'd still be able to see the flames flickering against the fronts of his eyelids. "You did not study here, did you? I do not remember you in my classes. Not that my memory is everything it should be, of course. Not any longer, I mean."

"Ah was only here long enough to explode someone when he ran into me," Kevin explained, his voice falling to a comfortably quiet tone that he knew most people could never hear. It was quiet here, though, only the fire making any noise, so he wasn't too worried about it. He hated always having to raise his voice just to be heard. "Ah finished my stuff from correspondence courses while Ah was at Muir so Ah never really was a student here. Not really." Kevin's voice didn't sound distracted despite the concentration that went into the effort of directing his mutation. He wasn't always very good at this, but he found when he was very calm or needed to not think about bad things he managed it best. "How come your memory's no good anymore?"

"A man, a telepath, shredded my memories," Jean-Paul said simply. "I think he enjoyed it. I did not. This is part of why I have returned."

"Ah'm sorry." And he meant it. Kevin walked over silently and laid the piece of wood at Jean-Paul's feet. It looked like an etching but everything was too smooth. Wood carving tools left edges but here there were none. It was like the image of the fire had been born there. "Least you get to leave if you want to. Some people don't get that option."

"A cage is still a cage, mon ami," Jean-Paul said, carefully waiting until the younger man had withdrawn his hand before continuing, "Even when you put yourself inside it." Picking up the piece of wood, he allowed his fingertip to trace the lines of the carving, careful of it. "Prettier, maybe. But a cage all the same." Looking up, he quirked another smile. "Thank you for this." He didn't know why Kevin had given it to him, but it was beautiful and Jean-Paul was never one to throw away beauty.

"You're welcome." He wasn't sure why he'd made it for Jean-Paul either, just that the man looked like he needed something and it was the only thing Kevin was capable of giving him. It had made him smile and Kevin was pretty sure that was the point. A smile or at least somehow chasing back that sort of coldness that seemed to press down on the man despite the fire's heat. Kevin stepped back further, falling into shadow and giving Jean-Paul space. Everyone always needed space when Kevin was around. Nothing else was acceptable. He pulled his glove on and figured he should probably go try to scour for more fallen wood now that he'd given away his best piece.

"Bonne nuit," Jean-Paul said, looking at the bit of wood in his hands and then nodding toward the younger man. "Have a good evening, Kevin." It wasn't like he'd be going anywhere, himself. He was still trying to work through what had led him to this place, to this decision to help his friend dispose of bodies - to the person he was that hadn't flinched at the prospect of it, who saw nothing wrong with burning his clothing afterward because that made sense. It didn't bother him, but he didn't understand why. It should have bothered him.

He wasn't sure why, but Kevin felt like he should have stayed. He should have done something else because Jean-Paul looked so very alone suddenly and not in the way Kevin thought of himself as being alone most of the time. Not alone by choice. But even if Jean-Paul called Kevin his friend in French he wasn't. The man barely knew him. So instead he said, "Good night," and left. It didn't feel like the right thing to do, but it did feel like the only thing he could do.