Jean-Phillipe and Laurie

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Laurie plays mother hen to her absolutely exhausted suitemate, who, despite his cranky nature, actually is appreciative.



Jean-Phillipe thumbed wearily at the remote control as he slouched bonelessly on the sofa in his suite. At least his rather drained state meant that he could relax what was generally rather rigid control of his powers without worrying so much about the effect on the electronics around the room. In a way, it was like setting down a weight he hadn't been conscious of until that moment that he was able to set it down. Strangely enough, he felt more relaxed than he had in quite some time.

Laurie set down some pumpkin soup in front of him, and a small plate with crusty bread just out of the oven. It was followed a short time later by a frosty glass of orange juice and cutlery before she went back to fetch her own lunch.

"You need to eat more," she noted before moving his legs and sitting on the couch herself.

"Oui, maman(1)," Jean-Phillipe replied in a mocking sing-song tone. Still, he snagged the bread and began to munch at it. Mothering aside, Laurie was a pretty fair cook.

"You need a mother," Laurie noted with a small grin, dipping a spoon into her soup and taking her first bite with relish. "Although I'm sure Marie-Ange would give me the number of your real mother, and I could invite her here to look after you if you'd prefer."

Jean-Phillipe snorted at the thought of his mother taking an actual interest in things that were happening with him. "Bonne chance(2)," he said sarcastically, waving a hand and making his opinion of Laurie's chances fairly obvious.

"Ne croyez pas que je n'aille pas faire(3)," Laurie replied, although the words were slow, and her accent was probably somewhat unfortunate. "Je n'ai pas l'intention d'être un insecte nuisible, je m'inquiète juste.(4)"

"Oh, I know you would," Jean-Phillipe waved away the apology. "I was just noting that if you can get my mother to care about anything where I am concerned, you would be the first." He flashed the hint of a self-deprecating and self-mocking smile.

"Well, then she's a very silly woman, as you're well worth caring about and she should be proud of you," Laurie said, her tone firm. She dipped her spoon in her soup and took another bite before continuing. "Maybe she just needs someone to tell her that. I'd be more then happy too."

"Enh," Jean-Phillipe grunted and gave a very Gallic shrug. "I think that I would not know how to react if she were to take an interest now. I have had years to become accustomed to making my own way in life."

"Maybe," Laurie replied, putting her soup spoon down and turning toward him more fully. "But you're not alone, not unless you want to be."

She knew that some people preferred their own company to that of others, although she'd never entirely understood it. She got comfort from other people, even if there was no talking or interacting involved. Just having someone else in a room made it feel slightly more welcoming.

"Merci," Jean-Phillipe replied. He'd come to discover that while he enjoyed having 'alone time' to recharge, there was a world of difference between the occasional alone time and completely shutting yourself away. And as know-it-all as Laurie could sometimes be, her friendship and slight bit of mothering was welcome.

"You're welcome," Laurie replied, and then nodded toward his soup. "Now, what did you want to watch on TV today? I could go and get us some DVD's from the common room if you like?"
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(Translations)
1: Yes, mother.
2: Good luck.
3: Don't think I won't.
4: I don't mean to be a pest, I just worry.