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xp_logs2010-09-18 02:36 pm
x-bevatron.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2010-09-18 02:36 pm
Jean-Phillipe and Angelica (BACKDATED)
Backdated due to forgetfulness. Jean-Phillipe and Angelica chatter during some downtime in Canada. Jean-Phillipe is, as usual, snarky.
Even though Angel had been working with the guys in New York for ages now, on top of the work with the X-Men, she was still exhausted when the truck she was riding in rolled back into camp. They'd been working in shifts all day and she'd just come back from her latest one; this time, she was almost asleep in the back seat when they pulled up she was that tired.
Waving, she stumbled out and staggered towards the area where she could get food, water and even more food. And maybe a nap.
Perhaps it was because of their experience with the mutants of Beta Flight, but the aid station seemed well-stocked, even in light of the usual 'mutant metabolism'. So when Angel stumbled her way to a picnic bench with a tray full of food, she found Jean-Phillipe laying into a similarly heaped helping. "Bon soir, Angelica," he greeted her blearily between bites.
"Yo," she said, groaning, as she fell onto the bench across from Jean-Phillipe. The tray of food was pushed to the side for a moment so Angel could put her elbows on the table and lean her head into her hands. "I think my lungs are coated in soot."
Jean-Phillipe replied with an uncharacteristic grunt. Clearly exhaustion had fairly completely scoured off his usual urbane social pleasantries. "I believe it may take me a week's worth of showering to feel clean after this," he observed.
"At least we are making a difference," she said. She sat up with a groan and felt her back pop. "We're not out of the woods - hah, look I'm funny when tired - yet but I'm seeing a difference." Angel took a bite of her food and groaned. It tasted like heaven.
"Puns are the lowest form of humor," Jean-Phillipe observed. "But you are in luck, I am too tired to punish you suitably." He raised an eyebrow. "A few more groans like that and people are going to think I somehow turned hetero."
Angel swallowed her food and then snorted. "Nah, they'll take one look at the table and realize it's me. 'Angel's making moaning noises. It must be feeding time.'." She pointed her spork at him. "Food is way more important than sexy fun time groans."
"Ah, c'est bon." Exhausted Jean-Phillipe tended to lapse back into French more than usual, obviously. "I would say it is a matter of context, which is more important than the other. Food is necessary for survival, certainment, but one must survive for something, non?" It was clear from the way he shoveled at his own tray which was more important at the present time, however.
"I don't know that language! I only know English and Dari! Which really surprised my adviser at college, let me tell you." As one of the volunteers walked by to hand out cold water, Angel snagged two bottles and handed one to Jean-Phillipe. "It's times like this that I wished I could actually feel how cold the water is. Weird, right?"
"Oh?" Jean-Phillipe cocked his head in confusion for a moment, then he realized what she meant. "Your body does not detect either extreme in temperature?" It was always fascinating to him, the minor consequences of individual mutant powers. He tilted back his head and drank deeply. "It is strange, the small things that we take for granted."
Angel tapped the side of her nose and then pointed at him. "Got it in one. Put me in the snow and I can walk around like it's 80 degrees and flip it for the heat. Mostly it's awesome but sometimes I miss drinking water that doesn't feel like it's right inbetween the two. You know, that's interesting - do you have anything like that with your power?"
"Hm." Jean-Phillipe thought on the subject for a while as he ate. "I must always be careful about shocking others," he said. "And there are...reminders of my manifestation..." He pushed up one of his habitual long-sleeved shirts to show Angel a series of scars on his forearm. "I started an electrical fire," he said in a very neutral tone of voice, almost suspiciously so.
Angel inspected them with an experienced eye. She left the medical stuff to the EMTs and doctors but there had been enough injuries during her time that she knew a burn scar when she saw one. "People don't think about things like that, do they?" she asked quietly. "You generate electricity but it can do more than just zap or charge. I ... hadn't thought about it making fire."
"I used to work in a warehouse, and there are many flammable things in such places," Jean-Phillipe said. He looked wistful for a few moments, lost in fond memories. "Things were...simpler. Not necessarily better or worse, just...simpler." He would not trade his mutant power for anything, it was his and he took pride in it. But he sometimes wished it had not come upon him quite so violently.
She winced at the mental image and then shook herself to get the mental image of a warehouse going up in flames. "Simple can be good," Angel admitted, taking another swig of the water to get the grit out of her mouth. "But I don't know. This is a crazy, complicated world we're in. I mean, dude, we're in Canada, helping an official mutant team fight forest fires. If that's not complicated, crazy and wonderful, I don't know what is."
"Oui," Jean-Phillipe agreed. "As I said, not better or worse, really. Just a touch of nostalgia." He put his hands to the small of his back and stretched. "I think that I will likely sleep for a week when we return to New York," he observed.
"Oh man. Sleeping will be wonderful. But I'll have classes and work and, well, you know training and such." Angel buried her head in her hands again. "Maybe I just need to learn how to sleep standing up."
Jean-Phillipe looked skeptical. "Somehow, I do not think that would end well. Beds are more comfortable. Also, then you can have other people in bed with you." He grinned.
For a moment, silence.
And then Jean-Phillipe's water bottle melted.
Jean-Phillipe's eyes twinkled in amusement. "...or perhaps not."
Even though Angel had been working with the guys in New York for ages now, on top of the work with the X-Men, she was still exhausted when the truck she was riding in rolled back into camp. They'd been working in shifts all day and she'd just come back from her latest one; this time, she was almost asleep in the back seat when they pulled up she was that tired.
Waving, she stumbled out and staggered towards the area where she could get food, water and even more food. And maybe a nap.
Perhaps it was because of their experience with the mutants of Beta Flight, but the aid station seemed well-stocked, even in light of the usual 'mutant metabolism'. So when Angel stumbled her way to a picnic bench with a tray full of food, she found Jean-Phillipe laying into a similarly heaped helping. "Bon soir, Angelica," he greeted her blearily between bites.
"Yo," she said, groaning, as she fell onto the bench across from Jean-Phillipe. The tray of food was pushed to the side for a moment so Angel could put her elbows on the table and lean her head into her hands. "I think my lungs are coated in soot."
Jean-Phillipe replied with an uncharacteristic grunt. Clearly exhaustion had fairly completely scoured off his usual urbane social pleasantries. "I believe it may take me a week's worth of showering to feel clean after this," he observed.
"At least we are making a difference," she said. She sat up with a groan and felt her back pop. "We're not out of the woods - hah, look I'm funny when tired - yet but I'm seeing a difference." Angel took a bite of her food and groaned. It tasted like heaven.
"Puns are the lowest form of humor," Jean-Phillipe observed. "But you are in luck, I am too tired to punish you suitably." He raised an eyebrow. "A few more groans like that and people are going to think I somehow turned hetero."
Angel swallowed her food and then snorted. "Nah, they'll take one look at the table and realize it's me. 'Angel's making moaning noises. It must be feeding time.'." She pointed her spork at him. "Food is way more important than sexy fun time groans."
"Ah, c'est bon." Exhausted Jean-Phillipe tended to lapse back into French more than usual, obviously. "I would say it is a matter of context, which is more important than the other. Food is necessary for survival, certainment, but one must survive for something, non?" It was clear from the way he shoveled at his own tray which was more important at the present time, however.
"I don't know that language! I only know English and Dari! Which really surprised my adviser at college, let me tell you." As one of the volunteers walked by to hand out cold water, Angel snagged two bottles and handed one to Jean-Phillipe. "It's times like this that I wished I could actually feel how cold the water is. Weird, right?"
"Oh?" Jean-Phillipe cocked his head in confusion for a moment, then he realized what she meant. "Your body does not detect either extreme in temperature?" It was always fascinating to him, the minor consequences of individual mutant powers. He tilted back his head and drank deeply. "It is strange, the small things that we take for granted."
Angel tapped the side of her nose and then pointed at him. "Got it in one. Put me in the snow and I can walk around like it's 80 degrees and flip it for the heat. Mostly it's awesome but sometimes I miss drinking water that doesn't feel like it's right inbetween the two. You know, that's interesting - do you have anything like that with your power?"
"Hm." Jean-Phillipe thought on the subject for a while as he ate. "I must always be careful about shocking others," he said. "And there are...reminders of my manifestation..." He pushed up one of his habitual long-sleeved shirts to show Angel a series of scars on his forearm. "I started an electrical fire," he said in a very neutral tone of voice, almost suspiciously so.
Angel inspected them with an experienced eye. She left the medical stuff to the EMTs and doctors but there had been enough injuries during her time that she knew a burn scar when she saw one. "People don't think about things like that, do they?" she asked quietly. "You generate electricity but it can do more than just zap or charge. I ... hadn't thought about it making fire."
"I used to work in a warehouse, and there are many flammable things in such places," Jean-Phillipe said. He looked wistful for a few moments, lost in fond memories. "Things were...simpler. Not necessarily better or worse, just...simpler." He would not trade his mutant power for anything, it was his and he took pride in it. But he sometimes wished it had not come upon him quite so violently.
She winced at the mental image and then shook herself to get the mental image of a warehouse going up in flames. "Simple can be good," Angel admitted, taking another swig of the water to get the grit out of her mouth. "But I don't know. This is a crazy, complicated world we're in. I mean, dude, we're in Canada, helping an official mutant team fight forest fires. If that's not complicated, crazy and wonderful, I don't know what is."
"Oui," Jean-Phillipe agreed. "As I said, not better or worse, really. Just a touch of nostalgia." He put his hands to the small of his back and stretched. "I think that I will likely sleep for a week when we return to New York," he observed.
"Oh man. Sleeping will be wonderful. But I'll have classes and work and, well, you know training and such." Angel buried her head in her hands again. "Maybe I just need to learn how to sleep standing up."
Jean-Phillipe looked skeptical. "Somehow, I do not think that would end well. Beds are more comfortable. Also, then you can have other people in bed with you." He grinned.
For a moment, silence.
And then Jean-Phillipe's water bottle melted.
Jean-Phillipe's eyes twinkled in amusement. "...or perhaps not."