Jean & JPB | Tuesday Afternoon (backdated)

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul and Jean try to use anger rather than fear to trigger a concussive blast.


Jean-Paul propped his feet up on the coffee table in Jean's suite and frowned almost contemplatively at his mismatched socks. "I do not remember putting on one blue and one red," he said.

Taking a seat in a chair across from him, Jean glanced down toward his feet, tilting her head.

"And I'm still trying to figure out why you took your shoes off when you got here," she said, quirking a brow.

"It is polite," Jean-Paul answered, keeping his a straight face on. "This way, I am not tracking dirt and things through your suite. Or getting them on your table."

"Yet your feet are also on my table, which is a general social faux pas," Jean said with a smirk. "I appreciate the good intentions, though."

Jean-Paul wiggled his toes at Jean. "But my feet, they are not making your table dirty, oui?" He wiggled his toes again for good measure.

"Nope," Jean said, still amused.

It didn't really bother her too much. She had, after all, spent much of her youth around a pack of teenage boys, which prepared her for the familiar signature traits most men held.

"Nice to see you actually practice good hygiene."

Generally whenever she saw Logan trying to take his boots off, she tried to stop him. There was always a mound of complaints, and a small cadre of people who left the room.

Nodding, Jean-Paul wiggled his toes again, then drew his feet up beneath himself on the couch and tipped his head to the side. "You are well?" They hadn't really discussed the incident in Canada and Jean-Paul wasn't really one to pry, but he did want to make sure that, if she'd had any other nightmares, she was dealing with them.

"As I can be," Jean said, nodding slightly. She was trying. Well, working on trying. Being busy helped take her mind off of herself. She didn't much mind that.

"How are you?"

"Well, I think." Jean-Paul said, nodding. "I have moved the things I would like to keep to the apartment in the city. The things that are too heavy, I have put them in Kevin's suite. He said he did not mind so much. And I am rid of the pink clothing." He paused to consider that, expression solemn. "I do not know what Angelo will do, since I wrapped his office in paper and plastic and things. But I think it will be something impressive."

Jean picked up the cup of coffee she'd just made a few minutes before, then nodded to the one she'd made for him sitting on the coffee table he had his feet on as a reminder.

"I think part of the revenge is leaving the person constantly fearful of when the other person might strike more than the event itself. Nervous anticipation."

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, leaning forward to pick up the coffee. He took a sip, nodded his approval, and then took another. "Mm... this is good. It is flavoured, is it not?"

Inhaling the rich aroma that drifted from the cup, Jean nodded...and put her own feet on the table right beside his.

"French vanilla caramel," she said.

"I think it's really from France."

It'd been given to her as a gift from one of her old college friends for her birthday. He traveled a lot so he often picked up random things.

"That is for the best," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "Getting things from where they are really from, I mean." He took another sip and let himself sink back against the cushions of the couch.

Jean smirked. "Sometimes," she agreed. Finishing off her coffee, she set it down on the table. The smile turned serious.

"So are you ready to start, like we discussed?"

"Non, ami," Jean-Paul said, putting his coffee down unfinished. "But I think I am never ready, though I know what is coming." He considered where he'd put his coffee cup, then moved it to the floor near the leg of the couch, just in case, and straightened. Pulling his legs in so he could cross them, he gestured for Jean to proceed.

Jean shook her head. "We should probably take this to the danger room. I'd like to actually make it through a period of more than a month or two where we don't have to make any home repairs," she said with a smile.

"If you'll suit up and meet me down in the danger room, I'll be there in about 10 minutes."

Jean-Paul's nose wrinkled as he reached for his coffee again. "Suit up," he muttered. "I am taking this with me, as payment for making me wear that suit here, at the mansion." Then he stood and headed for the door, slipping his shoes on before exiting.

Jean grinned as she glanced over her shoulder, slipping into the bathroom.

"Suck it up," she called as he was leaving, closing the door behind her.

Jean-Paul made a rude gesture toward Jean that she couldn't see and headed over to the suite he shared with Kevin, frowning as he grabbed one of the last Alpha Flight suits he owned. Putting it on, he grumbled and frowned, then picked up the coffee again and headed out the window. Far fewer chances of being seen if he was in the air than walking through the corridors.

He landed near the entrance that was closest to the elevator he'd need to take down, to the Danger Room, and walked back inside. Jean-Paul really, really hated his suit.

Jean didn't see it but the general snideness of his thoughts wafted through over the wall she'd put up and kept right on smirking.

She was about a couple of minutes behind him, walking out of the elevator to meet him. She arched a brow at his suit but said nothing.

"Alright, so we'll start very basic when we get in there. The idea, you said was for me to piss you off? Shouldn't be too hard, hmm?" she mused.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, voice somewhat quieter now that the session was at hand. "Since trapping me, it is not working so well." They'd been trying to attain some kind of development for a couple months now where the concussive blasts were concerned. He could tell when one was coming, the prickle along the back of his neck was indication enough of that, but it didn't do any good if he couldn't do something with that. And so now... now, they were trying a slightly different tactic.

Jean nodded simply, clasping her hands in front of her. It was easy to make either one of them angry, but the trick was to be able to hone the result, creating a focus.

But the more that she thought about it, the more she tried to actually think of ways to make him angry...instead of being natural, she found herself turning up blank. Anger was brought about by challenging or threatening a person. They had worked on trying to lessen that, so the sore spots she'd normally go for were places she wasn't sure about venturing into in order to get a rise.

It would be bad to break down the walls that they'd tried to build.

"Um...You're a...chicken?" she said half-heartedly.

Jean-Paul gave Jean a flat look, then clucked at her.

Jean quirked a brow, then let out a loud giggle that lasted for a few moments before her smile faded and she let out a sigh.

"I...damn. I really...I feel like the things that will really make you angry are sore spots, and I can't do that. I don't want to sabotage what friendship we have so far," she said. He'd take it to heart, she knew it.

"I will not hold these things against you," Jean-Paul said, knowing he'd try to keep his word, at least. It was difficult to know he was going to be angry and not actually be angry. Nervous energy shot through the Quebecois, making it necessary for him to move. So he paced along the length of the wall opposite Jean. "Please, if I am to work through this, I will need help."

Jean rubbed her forehead, falling silent for a few moments as she licked her lips. He said that, but that meant nothing until after it was all over. She hoped he would forgive her.

"I'm not sure if I want to help you. How do I know you won't just stomp off, pouting, and leave again, usually after destroying something? You've never really been that big into loyalty. You pretend it, making promises, but then what happens at the end of the day?" she said, cocking her head to the side.

"How long has it been since you've talked to your sister?"

Jean-Paul's breath hissed between his teeth and he paused in his pacing to turn so he could face Jean head-on. One part of him knew that she'd only said those things to needle him, but another part resented it. The first pointed out that she was doing what he'd asked of her, but still.

He let himself get angry. "Pardon?" His accent on the word was thicker than normal, the syllables sharp as his expression closed down.

"Now I know you're not deaf. Or do you have selective hearing?" Jean said. She really didn't like doing this.

"That must be it. Does she try to call you? Do you let it go to voicemail?"

Growling, Jean-Paul turned and walked down the wall, hands moving in the universal sign of denial. "This is none of your concern." His heel braced on the floor a moment later, though, and he spun to face her again. "Not that you care, I think. You could take the answer from my mind, could you not? Pluck it free without my permission. Have you done this already, Jean?"

"Of course it's my concern. It's all of our concerns. How do we know you? How do we truly know when the chips are down and everything is on the line you won't chicken out and run like you always do when you're scared?" she said. He could pass things off with bravado, and not care. It wouldn't do anything. But deep...where it cut...Still, how deep was too deep?

"I don't have to pluck anything from your mind, Jean-Paul, it's written all over your face!"

She didn't like this. He asked. But she didn't like it.

"Nothing!" Jean-Paul's fists balled at his sides. She didn't mean what she was saying - did she? He wanted her to do this, it was part of his attempts to figure out this new aspect of his mutation. He needed to figure it out. "Nothing is to say I will not run It is all I have ever done." But that wasn't entirely true. This last time, at least, he'd come back.

That didn't really count, though. At least not so far as he was concerned - he'd run to begin with and therein lay the problem. But he'd promised Kevin. This was all so frustrating.

"Exactly. Because you're good at it. You never keep your promises, even if you try to. Because it's too hard. Because you're not mature enough," Jean said simply.

Jean-Paul's shoulders sag. "This, it is not working. I cannot stay angry with you when you are saying things that I do not believe are true. I do not know how to make this a real argument."

Jean curled her nose, letting out a sigh. She felt almost relieved, as she really hadn't wanted to jeopardize what small friendship they had started to build back up. Still, that didn't help.

Nevertheless, despite the past, despite her good intentions, since she'd been back it was starting to feel as if she was doing little for him at all.

She didn't feel like the strong and capable X-Man or the doctor, or the teacher. They were both trying, but it was still slow going, if reminiscent of a traffic jam. Maybe because he was older than her, that she should've seen him as someone to look up to, not to help. She felt frozen, wavering, less confident, too careful to step around these eggshells she laid down.

"I don't know what to do," she said.

Letting out an expressive sigh, Jean-Paul puffed his cheeks up for a moment, then shrugged. "Let us do nothing, then, for the moment."

Jean nodded. She gave him a faint smile. "I like nothing."

She glanced around the room, primed and ready for whatever came at it, but in the end it was just a few empty words. She didn't much mind that, at least if it would help things between the two of them. She knew he needed help with his powers, and she knew he could get there, but maybe just not with her.

"I'm a little hungry. Do you want to come to Harry's with me for a bite?" It was the quickest place, and they had pool. She missed playing it with Logan.

"Let me change from this suit," Jean-Paul gestured at the thing he was wearing. "And I would like to go to Harry's."

"Me too. Meet you in the foyer in 15 minutes?" Jean said. All black leather, great for missions and Halloween, not so great for public outings where violence was involved.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, nodding.

Jean turned to leave, then paused midway through the door. "Perhaps you should talk to the Professor, see if he could help?"

He had an even and fair mind. She really hated that she couldn't help Jean-Paul, but she'd rather keep their friendship than jeopardize it.

Jean-Paul sighed. He'd been attempting to avoid that, but he knew there were things he needed help with and that, in order to get that help, he needed to speak with the Professor about the blocks still in his mind. "I think I will do as you say..." He just wasn't putting a timeframe on himself. At least not yet. Things hadn't quite gotten critical enough for that.