Laurie & JPB, Friday Morning (backdated)

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Laurie stops by the X-Factor office and finds Jean-Paul asleep on a newly assembled futon.


Jean-Paul had moved the futon into the office piece by piece the night before and assembled it by himself because he didn't want to have to explain to Vanessa why he was setting up a futon in her place of business. Which said nothing about why he wasn't sleeping in his own apartment or just using her couch. But Jean-Paul didn't really feel like talking to anyone, anyway, and Vanessa might not make him talk, but she'd give him pointed looks and make pointed comments and probably prod at him in that way she had where it didn't necessarily seem like she was prodding.

But she was. That was the thing. She could prod stealthily and it was difficult to hide things from her.

So Jean-Paul wasn't even going to try.

Thus, the futon.

He even had a pillow. It was a tiny little thing, but at least the back of the futon kept the sun out of his eyes. Sleeping in his jacket was a plan he'd have to rethink later, of course.

Feet propped up on one arm, he dozed with his arms folded over his chest and a look of supreme displeasure on his face despite the fact that he was partially asleep.

“I’m thinking you’re not a plant, but I’m wondering if I should water you anyhow,” Laurie mused, watering can in hand as she leaned a hip against the back of the futon. “Why exactly are you sleeping here when you have a perfectly serviceable bed back at the mansion, or even that flat you insist on keeping in New York?”

Cracking an eye open, Jean-Paul looked at Laurie for a moment, then let it close again. "Team meeting. To build trust and friendship. It begins shortly. You did not receive the memo?"

“Hmm, really? So, if I were to say, call Vanessa and ask her why I didn’t receive this memo, and thus was quite surprised to see you sacked out in the middle of the office on what has to be the world’s poorest excuse for a portable futon you would not mind at all?” Laurie asked, amusement twinkling in her eyes as she gazed down at her friend. She wouldn’t actually call Vanessa on him, she wasn’t a snitch but he didn’t know that, and it was much too much fun to tease.

"I was not under the impression that you worked here and perhaps that is why you did not get the memo, oui? O Mighty Plant Waterer." Jean-Paul didn't even twitch a muscle at the threat, though he really did think Vanessa might eye him to death if Laurie called her.

"Shows what you know, oh sleeper of couches," Laurie replied, then paused for a moment to go over what she'd just said. "That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. I need to think of a better nickname for you."

She poked at his feet and then slid onto one half of the futon, crossing her legs indian style.

"I think that you do not need a nickname for me at all," Jean-Paul said, finally swinging his feet off of the couch. He didn't think he'd be able to get any more sleep - and if he wanted to get away without having to actually answer questions, he was going to need to make a quick get away.

“That hardly seems fair, you get to nickname me but I don’t get to return the favour,” Laurie noted, resting her elbows on now upraised knees. “You’re not actually going to tell me why you’re sleeping here, are you? So maybe we should just go out to breakfast instead?”

"I like breakfast," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "Somewhere not so far away, oui? I am very hungry."

"I think I can do 'not far away', there's this really nice all day breakfast and coffee place just around the corner. It's run by a bunch of students, one of those 'pay what you think the meal is worth' places. They do this incredibly awesome pancake style thing that savoury rather then sweet."

Laurie grinned at him, the sparkle in her eyes that she always got when talking about food evident. If she hadn't wanted to be a doctor, she had often thought that she might have ended up a Chef instead.

"Let us go, then," Jean-Paul said, nodding toward the door.