Vanessa & Jean-Paul | Wednesday afternoon

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Jean-Paul tags along while Vanessa continues her hunt for an office.

She was on her third place of the day. Everywhere she looked just didn't work, though. The first one was a warehouse and Vanessa definitely didn't need that much space. The second was falling apart. Now she was standing beside Jean-Paul in the third office space and there wasn't much room for anything else in the room aside from the two of them. "I'm feeling very close to you right now," she told her friend in a flat tone. "We could cuddle or sing kumbaya or something if we're lodged in too much to squeeze back out."

"Non, ami," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head. "I am thinking that Kevin has the market cornered on the cuddling, oui?" He thought that was the correct terminology, at least. He grinned, though, and knocked on the wall next to them, then quirked his brow. "And I am not so good at the singing." Grinning, he nodded toward the door behind them and said, "Next?"

"Yeah, definitely next. I need to fit a big ass black man in the office and he can get maybe a shoulder in here." Carefully, she shuffled about until her back was to the wall beside her. "Now, if we can manage to get out," she began and started her sideways shuffle toward the door. The difficulty was exaggerated just to amuse herself.

"I think we can manage," Jean-Paul said, waiting for a moment before nudging her. "But not if I suffocate while waiting for you to go first."

Her eyes slid to the side, the motion unrecognizable thanks to the solid red of her eyes. She then promptly opened her arms and flung them around the man. They didn't go around his shoulders but around his head and pressed Jean-Paul's face into her shoulder. "Suffocate? Why would you suffocate," she inquired innocently.

Whatever Jean-Paul might have had to say was entirely muffled by the fabric of Vanessa's shirt and the knuckles of one hand smacked into the wall as he flailed. Who grabbed someone's head like that?

Pausing for a moment, he considered biting her, then gave up that thought and moved his hands to her sides instead. If she planned to suffocate him with love and friendship, then he'd tickle her in retaliation.

The squirming was immediate. Vanessa was trying to squirm away from his crafty fingers while still keeping her hold on him. It all resulted in both elbows careening off the wall a few times and a leg hooking around his in an effort to tug his foot out from under him so he'd unbalance and have to stop tickling in his distracted state.

Jean-Paul just used a bit of concentration to keep himself from falling over while he kept one foot firmly on the ground, fingers finding skin as he continued tickling her. This was slightly ridiculous, which he knew, but he felt no desire whatsoever to stop - even if he was going to have trouble breathing in a few minutes.

Skin contact just made the sensation worse. It was that level of tickling that made you laugh so hard it hurt and she couldn't figure out if it was the tickling that hurt or the laughter. Since sweeping his foot off the ground clearly wasn't getting her anywhere the metamorph switched to plan B. The leg hooked around Jean-Paul's moved up to hitch over his hip. Then she pushed off with her other foot in an effort to just push him over even if it took her with him. Belatedly she realized getting them both on the ground might not be a boon to her cause.

There were a few options here, Jean-Paul knew. One, he could just use his powers to keep them both upright or... he could not. He went with the second, since that landed him on top of her, anyway. And gave him more leverage. Especially once he'd twisted a bit.

Still, the sound of them landing on the floor and the sounds they were making had the Realtor poking his head into the room. "Uh..."

Jean-Paul couldn't see the man, since Vanessa still had a vice-like grip on his head, but he could hear his shuffling feet.

In order to crane her neck so she could see the man in the hall Vanessa had to shift Jean-Paul. He was now pinning her to the ground - stupid speedster trickery flipping her over! - so her only recourse was to shift his head. She kept the grip on him and shoved his face into her bosom from her shoulder. Then Vanessa strained her neck so she could peer at the man with the most innocent expression a red-eyed, blue-skinned woman could wear and gasped "Can I help you?"

"Uh..." The Realtor repeated, shuffling his feet again, eyes shifting from his papers to the pair of mutants on the floor and back again. Then, voice weak, he asked, "Did I... um. Hear you say 'next'?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"Oui!" Jean-Paul had never had his face so close to a pair of female nipples before in his life. Of a surety, it could have been a more traumatic introduction, but still - it was the principle of the thing! Of course, the muffled sound that came from him didn't precisely indicate agreement, despite his best efforts.

"Oui!" Vanessa mimicked with enthusiasm. She then promptly let go of her friend's head and gave an upward thrust of her hips in order to encourage him to get up. Of course, she may have just been leaving herself vulnerable for another attack.

Planting his knees between Vanessa's legs, Jean-Paul pushed himself up and off her, then looked down at her hips and patted them. "Very nice, mon ami. Very nice." Looking up at the Realtor, he quirked a brow and said, "There will be many people, but not so many as would fit in the warehouse. Is the next office larger than this?"

A slightly arrogant little smile came onto Vanessa's face with the compliment and she uttered a charmed, "Merci," before pulling herself to her feet. "Aye, we need more than a closet here, love. Something you can fit five warm bodies and a few cold ones in without people being piled on top of each other?"

"Oh, well," the man said, using one forefinger to push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "I think - well..." He trailed off, looking down at his papers. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he crossed a few things off, then nodded. "I might have something. It's not too far away. There are..." He paused again, counted something on his sheet, then continued, "Two floors with availability, both fairly open. One's more an apartment and the other is more an attic, but... it depends on what you'd like." He offered them a smile. "Shall we?"

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, brushing imaginary bits of dust off his trousers before straightening up properly and offering Vanessa his arm. "We shall."

A firm nod of agreement came as Vanessa daintily slipped her arm into Jean-Paul's. Dainty wasn't something she typically did in her own body but she'd done it in other bodies enough to be able to pull it off. The Realtor locked up and led the oddball pair off to the next location.

This place, lucky number four, was more or less in the heart of District X. There were a number of shops and even a community center within a few blocks. Like a lot of District X, though, it was recovered but distinctly unfinished looking. Some of the neighborhood had been put back together rather well following Apocalypse's little tirade but some of them hadn't. This place had the bare bones but it could use some work. The floors were solid, though.

Vanessa was still arm in arm with Jean-Paul as she meandered around the top floor. The ceiling beams were exposed, it was mostly brick and concrete and it was entirely open. "Well, it could be whatever I want it to be," she said in a quiet tone. There were huge windows that lined a wall facing the street. They were on the top floor of a five story building.

Turning her head to look at the Realtor she asked, "Is this rental, leasing or up for sale? Could we build and paint in here if we wanted?" She'd started saying 'we' early on in the day because Vanessa figured there were good odds she'd drag Jean-Paul into things from time to time.

"For sale or rent," the Realtor said, double checking his notes and papers.

"Look at the windows," Jean-Paul muttered, voice soft enough that the other man wouldn't hear him. He liked the windows. They were large and appeared to open easily, though he hadn't had a chance to test them just yet.

Vanessa nodded and returned in a whisper, "I noticed that, too." She thought it was a good sign that Jean-Paul seemed to think of them favorably as well. Drifting toward the small kitchenette, she made sure to walk toward the windows on the way so she could inspect them. The only thing she didn't like was how well people would be able to see inside. Maybe she could have them tinted like car windows or something.

"Hm," Jean-Paul said, freeing his arm so he could actually open one of the windows. It had a simple lever that was easy to crank and the window moved outward without making a sound.

"Those are new," the Realtor said, looking between the two of them. "And painting would be within the terms of the contract."

Vanessa nodded, watching Jean-Paul most likely decide how easily he could fly in and out of the window. What was with fliers and their laziness about doors? She herself moved off to inspect the little counter area that held an apartment sized refrigerator and stove. It seemed strangely dwarfed given the rest of the space and it's openness. "Maybe neon fuchsia," she mused, clearly not serious.

"Well, there's nothing in the contract that says you can't paint it fuchsia." The Realtor had clearly missed that Vanessa was joking.

"I veto this colour choice," Jean-Paul said, tone slightly distracted. "Curtains, I think. No pink."

"I could offset the fuchsia with some electric blue, honey," Vanessa returned with a small, playful smile. She'd also wandered back up to Jean-Paul at the windows. Stooping to set her chin on her friend's shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist and her other hand lightly poked the man in his side. "You don't like my color choices?" You could hear the pout in her voice.

"Non," Jean-Paul said, snorting softly. "I am afraid I do not." He was smiling, though, as he spoke.

The Realtor shifted behind them, papers crinkling as he folded them.

She feigned a sniffle and even nuzzled his jaw a bit with her nose because that was what she could reach. "We're going to have to compromise somehow. Electric purple?" There was a girlishly hopeful note in her voice with the question.

Turning just her head until her cheek laid on top of Jean-Paul's shoulder, Vanessa gave the poor Realtor a sweet smile. "Could you show us the downstairs unit?"

"Yes, of course," the Realtor said, turning and heading for the door. He paused, though, to see if they were following.

Keeping his voice very quiet as he closed the window, Jean-Paul muttered, "Or black - like my soul."

Vanessa started snickering and, much to her dismay, that quickly morphed into a quiet giggling. An arm looped through Jean-Paul's once more and she tugged him along after their poor, abused Realtor. She liked this place, honestly. Vanessa wasn't sure why she was asking to see the downstairs place if it was more apartment-like, but it could work for a laid back office as well maybe. Still, Jean-Paul was obviously having quite the affair with the windows up here. At least in his mind.

"Certainly," the Realtor said, heading for the door while Jean-Paul finished closing the window.

"This is a good place, I think. And you could paint it any colour but for the ones you mentioned before," Jean-Paul said moving off after the Realtor. "The downstairs will not have such windows."

"Sour apple green," she asked with a clear note of hopefulness to her voice. Vanessa trotted down the stairs after the Realtor and her pretend paramour. Jean-Paul was right about the windows, this place was just a normal window sort of place. But it was just as big as the upstairs. It was just, well, an apartment instead of an underdeveloped floorspace. She decided she was going to wander around the place anyhow.

"Non," Jean-Paul called after her as she wandered off. "No sour apples!"

Then he went over to the Realtor and started asking actual questions about asking prices and lengths of leases, square footage, the neighbours, the amenities, and all sorts of things that he'd learned were important when he bought his own apartment in the city.

Vanessa let Jean-Paul chat with the man over whatever it is that he was talking to him about while she investigated the place. It was huge. Two bedrooms, an office, a kitchen, two bathrooms, a living room, a dining room. It was a mostly open floorplan with the only real, full walls separating the bedrooms and bathrooms. The office, she pondered, could probably be turned into another bedroom. What did she need an apartment for, though? What if they needed to take people in and house them for some reason or another? The mansion was over an hour away. Having a safe place here in the city could be useful.

By the time she wandered back over to the men she heard the tail end of their discussion about amenities and utilities. Her arms slid casually around Jean-Paul's waist from behind and her chin perched on his shoulder. Of course, she was slightly taller than him so that meant stooping over just to have a chin perch but that was alright. "I'll take them on a lease to own basis." Once they were making money she'd take the payments over from Xavier and eventually pay him back the money he put into the property so that it belonged to the agency itself. Vanessa had a real problem being beholden or anyone.

"Them?" The Realtor blinked. He seemed to really believe that the answers to all his questions resided in the papers to which he clutched, since he looked toward them and then back up at Vanessa.

Going with the flow, as it were, Jean-Paul nodded. "Oui. The upstairs and this as well, of course."

"Oh - oh," the Realtor said, smiling suddenly. "Wonderful!"

Jean-Paul suppressed the urge to smirk. That was the most emotion they'd seen from the man all afternoon.

"I think that can certainly be arranged, Mr and Mrs Carlysle."

Patting Vanessa's hands where they'd settled at his waist, Jean-Paul nodded gravely and simply said, "Merci."

Smiling, Vanessa pressed her face from the nose down into Jean-Paul's shoulder. That was right, Jean-Paul was Mister Carlysle. They were modern folk and all, but Carlysle really didn't go with that accent in the least. The need to repress the snickering was great and she worried she wouldn't manage it when the pat to her hands came.

"So, I'm assuming you've an application of some sort for me to fill out?" The question came after quite a bit of silence while she reigned in her desire to giggle madly. Into Jean-Paul's ear she whispered, "We are a very pretty pretend couple."

"Yes, yes - of course," the Realtor said, hurrying over to his briefcase where it rested on the counter. He opened it and pulled out two folders, one blue and one green, then went through them to make sure everything was in order.

Snorting softly, Jean-Paul tried to keep his lips from turning upward at the corners as he muttered, "Oui, very pretty."

"Here we are," the Realtor said, moving back toward them, his manner positively delighted as he offered them each a packet of paper. Vanessa got the green one, Jean-Paul the blue. "The contracts are here. I'll give you two a chance to go over them." Then he glanced toward the Quebecois and said, "It's essentially everything we covered earlier, but formalized."

"Where would I be without you to go over all the boring details?" Smiling, she kissed Jean-Paul's cheek and pulled him over to the bar so they could peruse the packets they were handed. She wondered if they had gotten different sets of paperwork since they were color coded differently and all. "So, love, what is everything you covered earlier?" The amusement was obvious in her voice.

"The security payment, how much you would need to pay monthly, information about the neighbours and the neighbourhood, general things about the activities that can take place here. I thought this would be good to have, oui? Since there will be others here, will there not? You said a very large black man, did you not? And so if there would be people who took issue with many people here, I thought it would be good to know. Also, legal things. Insurance information. Our friend the Realtor gave me a card for an agent who provides very good renter's insurance in this area." Jean-Paul sat his packet of paper on the counter, then pulled said card from his pocket and offered it to her. "Also, he thinks that it might be best to avoid the very bright colours, but if you are renting to own, then I think it will not matter so much. Still, the sour apples would not be so good."

The card was given a cursory glance before being stashed away in her pocket. "No worries, love. You'll be lucky if there are any colors but grey and brown. Neon clashes with my skin anyway." Vanessa gave him a grin and started to fill out the actual application for the apartment. "So, are there any issues with my large, black man and our harem-to-be?" She quirked an eyebrow at Jean-Paul while she continued to fill out the forms.

"Non, the other apartments are rented to groups of people who have day jobs but are young enough to not be bothered by people coming and going. They will not be having wild parties, according to the Realtor." Jean-Paul sort of wished he'd gotten the man's actual name, but he hadn't been paying very much attention when they'd met initially, too baffled that the man had taken them to an actual warehouse to bother remembering his name. "So long as you do not blow things up, I think you will be alright."

Glancing over the packet of paper he'd been given, Jean-Paul considered it for a moment, then reached for the second pen on the counter and started copying down the information Vanessa had already written on her own, since it was essentially the same. "Why is it that you are taking both of them? The upstairs and this, also? I thought you needed only one?"

"I do only need one, technically, but I figure with what we're going to be doing that I might occasionally need somewhere to stash people where it's safe. Since it's pointless to have a big empty apartment most of the time I'll move out of the penthouse and that gives anyone we might need to stash a built in bodyguard without really disrupting anything. I'm sure as hell not stashing people in the penthouse and, honestly, I'd rather not rent my apartment from one of my best friends. It just doesn't sit right having a friend as a landlord." No matter how many times Adrienne joked about it, that didn't change that Vanessa didn't like the situation. "We need to check into zoning regulations and stuff before I have Xavier put the money down on the place. They need to run a credit check and stuff on me anyway before that happens so that gives me some time."

Jean-Paul nodded and finished up the paperwork that he could, then slid it over to Vanessa. "This is for the upstairs, I think." He offered her a smile, amused at all this planning. There was a great deal to do to get everything ready for Vanessa's venture, but it seemed like she had things well in hand.

Looking over the paperwork, she raised an eyebrow at Jean-Paul. "Don't go using that social security number to get me in trouble, now." She filled in the few things he hadn't and signed where it was highlighted.

Once everything was dated she handed the paperwork over to the Realtor along with a check for the cost of the credit check. "That should be everything you need from me right now, aye?"

"Yes, thank you. It's been wonderful doing business with you. I'll be in touch as soon as the credit check has gone through," the Realtor said, nodding.

"Aye, thanks." She gave him a small nod, looped an arm around Jean-Paul and headed for the door. "I'm thinking...lunch. Game?"

"But of course," Jean-Paul said, smiling as they exited the apartment.