Warren & Jean-Paul, Monday Afternoon
Jan. 24th, 2011 03:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsWarren and Jean-Paul meet in District X and Warren unexpectedly asks for assistance. Jean-Paul agrees to help him. Everyone's not quite as shocked as they could have been.
District X was not the sort of place many people would think he frequented, but that was exactly why Warren escaped there on occasion. Sure, it meant trading one disguise for another - off came the over-sized jackets ad harness, on went the sunglasses, hat and clothing Warren would otherwise not dream of wearing (old, tattered jeans, and a t-shirt in a similiar condition, the latter he'd filched from Jay once upon a time), but when it meant being able to soar through the buildings rather than walk through the streets, he'd take it any day.
Of course, he wasn't the only one enjoyed the skies of District X, and he found himself landing on the footpath near a familiar face. It was inevitable, running into him, but Warren couldn't help but wish he'd stayed in the air a little bit longer. With a quick flick of his wings to settle the feathers, he folded them against his back, wondering how rude it would be if he didn't say anything at all.
Jean-Paul was eating a pastry, but he had an actual sandwich in a bag in his hand as well, so as he turned to head away from the coffee shop, he didn't feel so bad about his new addiction to cinnamon twists. He paused, though, and blinked. "Not hiding today?" He asked, the words out of his mouth before he'd really thought about them.
Too rude, since Jean-Paul had spoken already. "Different sort of hiding," he replied, his frown hidden behind his sunglasses. Really, neither disguise was to his liking - what would it be like, he wondered, to be able to go out without hiding who you were - but that was beside the point right now.
Quirking a brow, Jean-Paul gave the other man a once-over and shook his head. "I do not understand this hiding. Here, at least." He gestured to the streets and buildings around them. "Who here would know you? In this outfit, I would not know you except for the wings."
"You would be surprised," Warren replied dryly. "There are plenty of people who are far too interested in what the prodigal Worthington heir does with his time off." Warren didn't honestly think someone would follow him into District X - for one thing, it'd be too difficult, trying to follow his route here, but he couldn't be too careful. If he came out of the mutant closet, he wanted it to be on his terms. No one else's.
Jean-Paul thought that was probably a bit of an exaggeration, but he managed to keep his opinion to himself. "And so, what do you do? Obviously you hide no matter where you go, but there must be something more interesting here, since this is where you are now that you have time off."
"I like it here." Warren narrowed his eyes at Jean-Paul. "And I'm thinking of investing in some property here. I just haven't decided what yet." Warren had far too much money than he really knew what to do with, and now that it looked like he was going to be staying in New York on a permanant basis, it was time to act like it.
"Ah," Jean-Paul said, nodding as he took a bit of his cinnamon twist. "And so you are thinking of investing in a restaurant?" He knew that wasn't what Warren meant, but if the man thought people wouldn't be able to trace the information about his 'investment' in District X, he was sorely mistaken. Public records were annoying sometimes. Mostly when they had to do with who bought what and where. "There are many small businesses that could use the assistance."
"I haven't decided yet," he said with a shrug. Being connected to mutants didn't bother Warren - it was his own rebellion against his father, who enforced his closeted status. He'd worked with mutants in California, and he was seen out with Crystal enough to be skirting the line his father had drawn. After a couple of moments of thought, he sighed, letting his shoulders relax, just a little. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me find something." Warren didn't like Jean-Paul overly much - but considering that most of that dislike was rooted in jealousy of various kinds, and that the other man knew District X far better than he did, he was willing enough to put it aside if it did mean being able to help someone else out.
Jean-Paul quirked a rueful half-smile. "Oui, I will help. As I said, there are many small businesses that need assistance. And residential areas, also. You could buy one, maybe, rent it to others." The Quebecois shrugged then, and tipped chin in the direction he'd been walking. "I will show you some, if you like. Once I am finished with my food, of course." He looked down at his paper bag, then squinted a little at Warren. "Would you like half of a turkey sandwich?" It was about as close to a peace offering as Jean-Paul was ever going to get.
"It's a good thing I have a lot of money then, isn't it?" Warren returned the half-smile with a wry one of his own. "And thank you." For both the help and the sandwich. Warren recognized a peace offering when he saw one, and since he'd just asked for Jean-Paul's help, he wasn't about to knock it back.
"Bon," Jean-Paul said, wrapping the rest of the cinnamon twist in its little paper bag before opening the one with the sandwich in it and offering Warren half. Today might not be so bad - the other flier wasn't likely to be quite so speedy as himself, but it wasn't often that he got to fly with someone he wasn't carrying himself.
District X was not the sort of place many people would think he frequented, but that was exactly why Warren escaped there on occasion. Sure, it meant trading one disguise for another - off came the over-sized jackets ad harness, on went the sunglasses, hat and clothing Warren would otherwise not dream of wearing (old, tattered jeans, and a t-shirt in a similiar condition, the latter he'd filched from Jay once upon a time), but when it meant being able to soar through the buildings rather than walk through the streets, he'd take it any day.
Of course, he wasn't the only one enjoyed the skies of District X, and he found himself landing on the footpath near a familiar face. It was inevitable, running into him, but Warren couldn't help but wish he'd stayed in the air a little bit longer. With a quick flick of his wings to settle the feathers, he folded them against his back, wondering how rude it would be if he didn't say anything at all.
Jean-Paul was eating a pastry, but he had an actual sandwich in a bag in his hand as well, so as he turned to head away from the coffee shop, he didn't feel so bad about his new addiction to cinnamon twists. He paused, though, and blinked. "Not hiding today?" He asked, the words out of his mouth before he'd really thought about them.
Too rude, since Jean-Paul had spoken already. "Different sort of hiding," he replied, his frown hidden behind his sunglasses. Really, neither disguise was to his liking - what would it be like, he wondered, to be able to go out without hiding who you were - but that was beside the point right now.
Quirking a brow, Jean-Paul gave the other man a once-over and shook his head. "I do not understand this hiding. Here, at least." He gestured to the streets and buildings around them. "Who here would know you? In this outfit, I would not know you except for the wings."
"You would be surprised," Warren replied dryly. "There are plenty of people who are far too interested in what the prodigal Worthington heir does with his time off." Warren didn't honestly think someone would follow him into District X - for one thing, it'd be too difficult, trying to follow his route here, but he couldn't be too careful. If he came out of the mutant closet, he wanted it to be on his terms. No one else's.
Jean-Paul thought that was probably a bit of an exaggeration, but he managed to keep his opinion to himself. "And so, what do you do? Obviously you hide no matter where you go, but there must be something more interesting here, since this is where you are now that you have time off."
"I like it here." Warren narrowed his eyes at Jean-Paul. "And I'm thinking of investing in some property here. I just haven't decided what yet." Warren had far too much money than he really knew what to do with, and now that it looked like he was going to be staying in New York on a permanant basis, it was time to act like it.
"Ah," Jean-Paul said, nodding as he took a bit of his cinnamon twist. "And so you are thinking of investing in a restaurant?" He knew that wasn't what Warren meant, but if the man thought people wouldn't be able to trace the information about his 'investment' in District X, he was sorely mistaken. Public records were annoying sometimes. Mostly when they had to do with who bought what and where. "There are many small businesses that could use the assistance."
"I haven't decided yet," he said with a shrug. Being connected to mutants didn't bother Warren - it was his own rebellion against his father, who enforced his closeted status. He'd worked with mutants in California, and he was seen out with Crystal enough to be skirting the line his father had drawn. After a couple of moments of thought, he sighed, letting his shoulders relax, just a little. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me find something." Warren didn't like Jean-Paul overly much - but considering that most of that dislike was rooted in jealousy of various kinds, and that the other man knew District X far better than he did, he was willing enough to put it aside if it did mean being able to help someone else out.
Jean-Paul quirked a rueful half-smile. "Oui, I will help. As I said, there are many small businesses that need assistance. And residential areas, also. You could buy one, maybe, rent it to others." The Quebecois shrugged then, and tipped chin in the direction he'd been walking. "I will show you some, if you like. Once I am finished with my food, of course." He looked down at his paper bag, then squinted a little at Warren. "Would you like half of a turkey sandwich?" It was about as close to a peace offering as Jean-Paul was ever going to get.
"It's a good thing I have a lot of money then, isn't it?" Warren returned the half-smile with a wry one of his own. "And thank you." For both the help and the sandwich. Warren recognized a peace offering when he saw one, and since he'd just asked for Jean-Paul's help, he wasn't about to knock it back.
"Bon," Jean-Paul said, wrapping the rest of the cinnamon twist in its little paper bag before opening the one with the sandwich in it and offering Warren half. Today might not be so bad - the other flier wasn't likely to be quite so speedy as himself, but it wasn't often that he got to fly with someone he wasn't carrying himself.
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