Jean and Vanessa, Monday Evening

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean and Vanessa go hunting for a new face for Vanessa for around the 900th or so time and they get lucky...one in more ways than one.



"So I'm trying for the lower pressured, win-win approach here," Vanessa explained with her arm comfortably slung around the redhead's shoulders. "See, if I find a man to steal for a mimic that's great. If I don't we still hang out, have a couple drinks and I find out if you've got any rhythm or if you dance like a white girl." She grinned. "And there will be some sort of proof either way, just keep that in mind, Ginger m'love."

Jean smiled coyly as they walked. "Oh, you don't have to worry about me and my dance moves, my darling Blue. Of course, this is only if we find ourselves once again fruitless. Either way, still enjoying the occasional eye candy, though," she said.

Scott was still her one and only but it didn't mean she couldn't look. Scott did the same thing to other women. He'd learned long ago not to lie, and it was practically impossible to do so anyway, for either of them given their link. Sometimes they compared notes.

"Though I still propose we go out for the drinks. I'm aching for a good margarita and Harry, God bless him, hasn't quite perfected them yet."

He preferred the simplicity of single servings, beer, whiskey, bourbon, Jack. While he could do the mixed drinks, certain ones were still just not right.

"That slightly off kid at the mansion works at Harry's too. Jared or some such? He keeps boasting about his bartender abilities, which probably means they're shit, but it's something." Vanessa leaned against Jean a little as they walked and her grin came back. "But I'm mixing business with pleasure tonight, doll, and fruitless or not we're dancing. And maybe getting you drunk so you might be spending the night in the city tonight." The metamorph's smile was positively feline. If someone didn't know better they probably would have thought she had ulterior motives toward the redhead. Vanessa was all flirt and little action, though. It came from having a boyfriend and very strict rules about fidelity.

"Don't worry, we're going to a grown up club. It'll be thinner on kids with fake IDs and the early twenties crowd that's just looking to get drunk and be ridiculous. We can flirt with people we have no intention of going home with. It'll be fabulous."

"Does he? Ah, I forgot. Don't think he was there when I was around both times. I'll have to look for him whenever I go back," Jean said. She then grinned.

"And I tend to switch between goofy lush and fist flying spitfire depending on the mood so all these attempts at getting me plastered should be interesting."

She glanced around as they talked, the grin remaining on her lips, only softening a bit.

"I'm game. Still kind of wish I could get carded, but even back then I made them think they were seeing the right ID anyway once or twice."

Charles was rather incensed. Once or twice became the only times.

"You're a bad seed. I'm not sure we should have you around impressionable children. I think you might be a bad influence." Vanessa, of course, had been outed as a mercenary while she was still a teacher. Somehow she was pretty sure she was the worse influence for the kids to be around.

"Don't worry, if you lean toward spitfire I'll just point you at the nearest guy who looks like he deserves to be decked." Vanessa could do without being punched by yet another friend. The blow to the ribs from Jean-Paul when his false memories had taken hold was enough for her. Generally she tried to get hit by non-friendlies only, that way she didn't feel bad when she hit back.

Jean shrugged, idly twisting a red curl around her finger. "That's what I keep telling people, still they give me the chalk and point me to a chalkboard," she said.

"What can I say? Must be the hair... and the mind control," she said, then cocked her head to the side.

"Unfortunately this means I have to kill you for uncovering my secret. You understand," she said as she hooked her thumb in one of the belt loops of her skirt and stared at her with an ominous look.

But learning one of the future recipients of her alcohol-induced rages made Jean's faux-evil look quickly evaporate into a grin.

"Don't think it'll be too hard to find one of those in here."

"Sweet pea, I don't think it's too hard to find one of those anywhere." She grinned at the bouncer by the door checking IDs for those who looked borderline and sauntered on into the club with Jean's shoulders still under arm.

It wasn't very crowded but people were trickling in. The dance floor was pretty much empty but it wasn't that long after most of these people had likely left their offices. Mostly people hung out at the tables near the bar or at the bar itself. This was definitely a nine-to-five kind of crowd. Vanessa led the pair of them up to the bar. "What're you drinking, Ginger m'love?"

Jean felt more at home there than with the teenybopping crowd. As they entered, she made note of the patrons, still on would-be-man-duty.

Hooked nose, no. Mole on eyebrow, no. Too skinny. Too muscular...

She half wondered if their adventures had turned her into one of the overly critical judges from some competition, subconsciously forever sizing men up. Luckily she didn't have to do it for a living.

"Strawberry margarita, extra strawberry please," she said.

"Jesus, you are girlie, aren't you love?" Vanessa shook her head and ordered Jean's margarita along with her own beer. She paid for both drinks and found an unoccupied table near a wall where they could see the majority of the room.

"Anything interesting yet?" Vanessa's eyes were now combing over the crowd as well. Unlike a lot of the places they'd gone hunting in, it wasn't particularly out of place here to look over the crowd and take note of people.

"While I am rather large fan of beer, I do occasionally want something with fruit in it once in a while," Jean said.

"So you're telling me you don't drink any type of mixed drinks, period? How boring."

She liked all kinds. Beer. Rum and Coke. Straight up Jose Cuervo. Pina Colada. Wine. To be restricted to just one type of alcohol seemed like a waste.

Jean leaned against the table, taking a sip of her drink as she surveyed their prospects.

"Oh there's interesting. If you want to look like Julius Caesar wearing a toupee with his chest hair poking out of the top of your shirt I have your guy. His brother, who is the spitting image of him except somewhat emaciated, is also up for grabs. Otherwise, no one particularly appetizing yet," she said, curling her nose at the way the brothers descended upon an unsuspecting woman on her way toward the bar, hovering around her like vultures and carrion.

"I'm glad I didn't have a heavy dinner. I think I may be nauseated."

"What? Good ole Jules doesn't do it for you?" Smirking, Vanessa's foot nudged Jean a little under the table. "I think he's striking. He's got quite an impressive mix of smarmy, used car salesman and registered sex offender. You know I'd probably be inclined to go over there and break his hand if those two actually corner and bother that woman. It could really end our night abruptly if I get thrown out." She said this as if it were a hint for Jean to do something before she did.

"There's no point in having power if you don't use it for evil to fuel the greater good."

Jean smiled at Vanessa. "Getting thrown out and making us have to try this exercise one more time? I think at that point I would go insane...again," she said.

"I think Jules and his brother just need make a connection on a personal level."

Jean's eyes flickered toward the two "gentlemen" congregated around their uncomfortable prey. They had begun to inch closer to the woman, their yellowed teeth gleaming.

Two women passing by seemed to catch their eye at the last minute, however, and their attention on the woman they had cornered completely evaporated.

The men seemed transfixed with a sense of wonder as they immediately went after the two women who had passed. Thing was, the women weren't exactly...conventional in their beauty, but to these men, who seemed to have been hitting on only the hottest women in the bar prior to this, they suddenly seemed to think the women were the most beautiful things they'd ever seen.

Jean took a drink of her margarita. "I think they'll be okay," she said.

The women seemed surprised they had been spoken to by the men, but for now things seemed pleasant. All parties were smiling, laughing, buying drinks.

All Jean had to do was change the brother's perceptions of beauty. The men did the rest.

Jean glanced back to Vanessa.

"See anyone else you like?"

Too busy watching the change in trajectory for their two skeevy friends, Vanessa had to turn her eyes back toward the room in order to answer Jean's question. "No. Why can't I just find a cute lawyer type..." Her last three words trailed off and her gaze had become distracted by someone just walking in.

Vanessa hadn't decided to be subtle when looking about the bar and so she attempted no such thing. Her neck stretched as she leaned over to the side to get a look at the man making his way toward a gap at the bar, presumably to order. "Tall, broad shouldered brunette at the bar. Nice smile from where I'm sitting, you see who I mean?"

Jean turned around to see where Vanessa was looking and caught sight of the potential target. She found herself subconsciously nodding, a slow smile attached to her look, mainly because the guy inhibited certain qualities in his mannerisms that reminded her of Scott.

"Yep. He looks like a good fit."

(Then again, at this point anyone who looked at her a certain way and pretty much anything the color red reminded her of Scott, so that wasn't saying much. But this guy had more attributes than most.)

"Shall we pounce?"

Vanessa leaned over to Jean as she stood and purred in the redhead's ear. "I'm very good at pouncing. You keep our table, though." The metamorph sauntered through the crowd in her borrowed body in search of her prey. It didn't take long to convince him to buy her a drink and find somewhere quieter and more toward a corner to talk. Just because she was years out of practice as a whore didn't meant Vanessa had lost her ability to figure out what a man wanted a woman to be for him and give it to him. It was all about learning to read people and she did that all the time when she mimicked real people and slipped into their lives.

The table where she'd ended up with her mystery man, whose name turned out to be Andrew, was easily in sight of Jean. Not only did Vanessa want to be able to keep eyes on her friend, but she wanted Jean to have something other than Vanessa's mind to keep track of while she sat there flirting with Andrew. He was a nice enough guy, but more importantly he had everything she needed in a mimic. At least on the outside he did. Good hair, friendly face, charming smile, athletic, good build. He wore clothes well but he could also wear any clothes he wanted to well, not just the suit and tie he was currently wearing.

Mid-sentence Vanessa's eyes snapped over toward Jean in an attempt to catch her eye. The shapeshifter did her damnedest to think loudly enough for the telepath to hear. Any way you could violate his mental privacy and find out if he has any genetic disorders that would make him unusable? Or diseases. Cancer or AIDS that's far enough along could potentially be just as crippling as Lupus or Fibromyalgia. I had Lupus once with a mimic. It sucked.

Jean kept tabs on Vanessa as she wove her way through the crowd, following the nice "couple" as they made their way toward somewhere more private.

She found herself staring at the man, suddenly overcome with a sense of longing. Her eyes lowered a moment, down toward the remnants of her drink, when Vanessa's 'message' made her gaze snap back up toward the other woman.

~Hang on, let's find out. It'd be just our luck he turns out to have a tail or something.~

While it didn't bother Jean, it was obvious that not everyone was tolerant of mutants or even non mutants for that matter. She'd read medical cases where people were born with tails.

Like one of those stubby tails? The ones where you have an extra bone or two at the end of your coccyx bone? I don't get how those aren't uncomfortable when you sit down. And I'd never manage to seduce a woman if she checked out my ass and found my tail wagging because I was happy, Vanessa lamented mentally while she smiled at Andrew and traced a nonsense pattern on the back of his hand while he spoke.

Jean smirked. ~Don't think he's one of those cases, otherwise his mind would be on that while the two of you are talking. Generally if there's a perceived flaw its all someone can think about, wondering if the other person might notice. I'm not getting that vibe.~

Falling silent for a moment or two, she nodded.

~Yeah, he's clean.~

Thanks. Vanessa's full attention turned back to the man so she could answer him and tell him how she gave amazing head massages that would surely cure him of his headache, she guaranteed it. So what is on his mind while we're talking, she asked as she stood and slithered around behind Andrew. Vanessa hadn't given him any time to answer her. Her fingers slipped into his hair and she really did begin to give him a scalp massage. Once he was relaxed enough she'd clip some hair to pull a mimic off of.

Jean rested her chin in her hands, a wistful look in her eyes.

~He's thinking about how fast he can take off your clothes. But he'd cook you dinner. He knows how to use a wok. His boss is also annoying as hell and he has a dog named Chester he needs to let out to go the bathroom. And occasional ponderings about catching a hockey game later. But right now, mostly sex. He's a gentleman so he'd be chivalrous about asking, of course.~

For most people, thought processes were chaotic and jumped from place to place to place. Initially it was hard to keep up when she first started, by now she'd learned how to catch the train. And a lot of people were easily predictable in certain social situations.

Unless Jean threw up the walls it was pretty much like listening to Facebook uncensored, 24/7 in people's heads.

It was a good thing Andrew couldn't actually see Vanessa because she was trying not to laugh at the list Jean rattled off. Mostly it was that very casual, nonchalant tone Jean used as she "spoke." It's sweet of him to be all chivalrous. If I didn't have a boyfriend I'd consider it. Alas. Can I take you on dates the next time I'm single? You're dead useful.

Jean leaned back in her chair, trying not to imagine the things Andrew was imagining except with Scott's face instead of his. She grinned.

~We'll see. They're not as nice as this one seems to be. He's almost too...oh, hey, he likes whips.~

And then Vanessa choked a little. She had to explain that she swallowed and it went down the wrong way when Andrew asked if she was okay. Her mouth was muffled against her shoulder while she laughed and he seemed to worry about her breathing. I only ever did that for paying customers when I was a prostitute. They are so not my thing. But I'm really good at wielding them.

Jean arched a brow. As she wasn't being watched she was able to giggle aloud to herself.

~That's uh...good to know, I guess?~

She smirked a bit. ~Fun sidenote, so am I.~ Vestiges from her Jane days.

~Now he's wondering if he's boring you. He's noticing the distraction and the far away look in your eyes. Talk some more about his hair. He loves his hair, a lot. ~

Vanessa did exactly what Jean said. She poured her focus back into the movement of her fingers along his scalp and she spoke directly into his ear as her hands moved. It was, of course, under pretense of the loudness of the bar that had her whispering but Vanessa knew her alt's deep bedroom voice was delicious in a whisper. Her fingers moved from his scalp to the knotted muscles of his neck. Her whispers moved from the texture and shine and softness of his hair to the strength of the muscles beneath her hands. All the while she thought, if I ever date a guy who loves his hair at all please let Jean hear and tell me. Any guy more high maintenance than I am has to go.

~ There could be worse hangups. He could be a total slob with no fondness for personal hygiene.~

As Jean watched she couldn't help but look in on Andrew's fantasies and switch out the faces to hers and Scott's. Man, it had been awhile.

Yeah, but I like middle ground better. Vanessa was still careful to not let her attention stray too far from Andrew and their conversation which was turning decidedly flirtatious.

By the time she dropped one hand down into her pocket Andrew was sufficiently limp in his chair and going on about how she had the hands of an angel. Deep down all men want their women to have the skills of a whore without ever being one, she thought as she pulled out the tiny pair of scissors. Her hand moved from where her fingers were working into his neck muscles along the sides of his vertebra up into his hair again. She found a spot where the hair was long enough and also thick enough that she didn't think he'd notice for a while. The voice in his ear she hoped would stop him from hearing the small sound of the scissors.

A moment later and the hair slipped into her pocket along with the scissors. Vanessa's hand moved back up to his scalp and she started to suggest they find somewhere more intimate. Andrew seemed all for it until she mentioned a single word. Payment. See, they like us to have all the skills of a whore, but some men really have a mental block against actually paying for it. I'm very talented and well worth the five hundred an hour, she thought with faux indignantly as Andrew excused himself from her presence.

Vanessa wore a disappointed look and let her eyes trail appreciatively over Andrew's body as he looked over his shoulder at her. She was pretty sure he was rethinking turning down her services. After all, she had those hands of an angel. What man didn't wonder how much better a working girl might be? As far as a one night stand went, it was probably the best sex he ever could have had.

~Payment implies failure. It makes it seem like their skills at wooing the opposite sex were inadequate. It makes them feel like less of a man.~

Jean found herself listening in through Andrew's mind, as his thoughts twisted and turned like the riptide, leaning back in her chair, tracing the indentations someone else who had sat there before her had made on the table. She shook her head.

~ Still, there are moments when instinct, desire, and alcohol overrides reason and feelings. He's a good man. But he's lonely. Just got out of a bad relationship with a girl named Claire. Backstabbing bitch. He's thinking about changing his mind.~

She cocked her head to the side as he slowed his step.

~I know he'll regret it. Please don't break his heart.~

Perhaps she was projecting.

You almost make me feel bad about it. In a come clean with him, not use him and even make him less lonely sort of way. Lex would almost be understanding, too. He wouldn't like it, he'd hold it against me but he'd probably still be more sympathetic than I'd ever be. She was watching him carefully. The girl she'd taken hair from for Aoife had known. She'd volunteered. Daniel had been some guy flying out of New York City. Jean-Paul had picked him and gotten the hair. Vanessa hadn't had anything to do with it.

And now she felt bad about this one. You know, I'm a sucker for good guys. That's why I had such a massive thing for Garrison when I first showed up at the mansion. Why I dated Sam. Why I'm dating Lex. It's like Vanessa Kryptonite. I can shoot a man from a roof and not feel bad about it. I can slit his throat and have him bleed out over my hands and not think twice. But now I feel bad for this guy. He had stopped moving altogether now. Is he going to come back?

Jean's eyes lowered and she slowly smiled sadly. ~He's still going to cook for you, even if he has to pay you. He has a new recipe for sesame chicken he's been dying to try out.~

Andrew turned around, looking Vanessa over for a moment before he realized she was staring at him. He started to walk back towards her table.

~It's your decision. This is your show. I'm just the mental walkie talkie.~ She already knew how she felt about it.

Total Kryptonite, Vanessa thought. He looked kinda sad in a way. Jobs were one thing, but life was another. Vanessa was stupidly moral when it wasn't for a job, a fact she was lamenting at the moment. The moment he got back to the table her sex kitten expression had dropped, because she could see what he was going to say before he said it. He got as far as "Okay," before she'd cut him off.

Vanessa crumpled a little on the inside and she told him she wasn't really a whore, but she had been once and that tended to run guys off pretty easily. All true. He extended a charmingly awkward invitation for dinner anyway, with the tagline that nothing had to happen necessarily. It had the unspoken meaning that if she wanted something to happen it could, but he wouldn't pressure her. She got it. Vanessa understood lonely all too well. And that's why she knew she'd leave with him the moment he'd headed back toward her. So she accepted the invitation. She wasn't sure what would happen or how she could maneuver around committing any acts of infidelity. Vanessa would figure it out.

As she slipped an arm around Andrew's waist and cuddled into his side she tried to loudly think of Jean to make sure she had the redhead's attention. I promise not to break his heart. I'll call you tomorrow? And she kissed his cheek as they wound their way through the growing crowd to make their way for the door.

Jean stood, catching Vanessa's eye just as the two of them passed by. She nodded as she turned the other way, headed for one of the other exits.

~I believe you.~

Initially she had found Vanessa a little cold, as icy as the color of her skin. But the longer they were around each other Jean began to understand she had layers. Little surprise really given the ferocity she had in defending and helping her friends. She should've known better than to assume that people were as black and white as they made themselves out to be. After all, she had the potential to see right into their hearts.

But still she often let her own mind cloud how people were instead of who they really were. It was something she was working on.