Cammie & Jean-Paul, Tuesday Evening (backdated)

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul takes a break on the roof of the boathouse and interrupts Cammie's moping.


Jean-Paul flew over the lake, the sun setting behind him, and then veered to the left when he caught sight of the boathouse. He understood that nothing else had actually gone in since Nathan moved to New York, so he landed on its roof, perhaps a little harder than he'd initially intended, but not hard enough to do it damage. Walking to the edge, he sat down and let his feet hang off, staring up at the sky because that was where he wanted to be but he was too tired to manage it. The sky flooded peach, then a darker orange as he watched, and he knew the sequence that would come next.

Cammie was holed up in the boathouse. Though she understood the reasons for Manuel's sudden departure apparently he had meant more to her than she thought because she was hurt, dumbly enough. It was more proof of why it was really best to separate herself from people, besides the obvious part about them getting sick. She didn't have her music up too loud at the moment, so she heard someone landing hard on the roof.

Grumbling, Cammie picked herself up off the floor and wandered to a window which she coaxed open. Sticking her head out the window she yelled up, "Hey, off the roof you damn kids!"

Looking down between his knees and over the edge of the roof, Jean-Paul raised his brows. "I am more than twice your age. I do not think I count as being a 'damn kid.'"

"Maybe, but you are on the roof," Cammie returned, "So therefore, you must be a damn kid, or something."

"Or something," Jean-Paul said, nodding to himself. "Why are you in the abandoned boathouse? Are you trapped? Did you fall and only the sound of my feet on the roof managed to motivate you enough to get up?"

"Nah, if that was the case you would've heard that line about falling and not getting up," Cammie said with a shrug, "You did motivate me enough to put weight on the broken leg though. Kudos."

"Merci," Jean-Paul nodded, then hopped off the roof. He stopped himself from actually reaching the ground, choosing to hover near the window. "Why are you hiding here?"

"Because I'm too much of a freak for a common Carni," Cammie quipped, shifting her weight off the walking cast, "It's been a hard week."

"A freak?" Jean-Paul asked, brows rising. "There are enough people in the world who would say such things, oui? Why do you take this job from them?" She might have been joking, he suspected as much from her tone, but there were jokes and then... there were jokes. And this was not one of the good ones. He had never approved of people calling themselves names just so they could do it before others managed to. "What is a Carni?"

"A carnival worker. You know like in the old days where they'd have the freak show. Come, pay five cents and see the bearded woman, or the two inch man, or something like that. The people that write about these things like to think that some of them might have actually been mutants. Nice to know I'll always have a traveling carnival to fall back on," Cammie said with a nod.

"That is not funny, Carmilla."

"Sure it isn't. Life's not funny. It's a horrible, awful thing," Cammie returned, "I'm just honest. Honesty sucks."

"I joined the circus," Jean-Paul offered, letting his feet hit the ground. "Years ago. The people there, they do not think of themselves as freaks."

"The circus isn't a carnival. Carnivals are the cheap imitation of circuses. Kurt was in a circus, that's actually cool," Cammie noted.

"Carnivals do not have to be cheap imitations," Jean-Paul said, shrugging. "You have a sad way of viewing the world, Miss Black." He wondered if there was any way to change her view. Not likely - at least not something that would be easy, anyway.

"Hey, the world is a sad and sucky place," Cammie returned, "I didn't make it that way." And she wasn't going to spit sunshine and rainbows to the ideal that it was a happy shiny place either.

Jean-Paul considered that for a long moment, then shrugged. "No, this is true." It occurred to him that it was very odd, how he seemed to be the one looking on the bright side of things in that moment. "I will leave you, then."

Cammie paused, "Um, okay then. You don't want to come in and break things?"

"Break thinks?" Jean-Paul asked, brow quirking in confusion. "Why would I want to break things?" He did enough of that by accident these days, he saw no reason to start doing it on purpose now.

"It's therapeutic," Cammie said, "Not that's there's much in here to break, but I'm sure there's SOMETHING."

"Breaking things, it is only therapeutic if it makes you feel better," Jean-Paul reasoned. "I think wanting to break things a lot is not a good sign. And also, I do not think breaking the boathouse would be a good idea." He offered her a rueful sort of smile, though, and let his feet lift off the ground. "Why are you wanting to break things for therapy?"

"Hey, I'm a destroyer of life right? Might as well make it one of objects too," she said with a simple shrug.

There wasn't much Jean-Paul could say to that, all things considered. "I think it would be unwise for me to break things," he said, then shrugged himself. "Thank you for the invitation?"

"Suit yourself," Cammie said, "Maybe some other time."

"Oui," Jean-Paul said. "I will get off your roof soon, non?" With that, he flew to the roof again, careful to thump very thoroughly across the shingles before taking a tumble off the other side and heading for the mansion proper.