Jean-Paul & Vanessa | Thursday afternoon

[x-copycat.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul and Vanessa head to the library in Gardner, MA to scour newspapers for information that might lead them to the possible stalking victim Vanessa's been hired to find. Conversation turns more personal when Jean-Paul is bored of the newspapers but he doesn't follow her metaphors so well.

Three hours of driving had brought Vanessa to Gardner, Massachusetts from Barre, Vermont. It had been a pretty drive through western Massachusetts and up into Vermont yesterday morning and it was a pretty drive now, but she was playing chase the breadcrumbs and that just didn’t appeal for all that long, honestly. Now she was wandering the streets with Jean-Paul searching out the library. “If you’re going to run away from a stalker, why do you run to all the places you’ve already lived? It seems a bit daft, doesn’t it? He’s a stalker, he probably has her life history memorized.”

“You run to where you feel safe,” Jean-Paul said, tone reasonable. “To places that you know so that you have the benefit of knowing the terrain.” Not that he knew anything about running away - of course not. “Or,” he said, granting that he could be wrong, “you flee to parts unknown and hope you blend in well enough that no one will see you and think it odd. How is it that we know our missing person did not run to one of those places?”

“Well, we don’t. But her mom’s very concerned and very well off so she will pay me to stay on the case for four months and fly to every bleeding continent on the planet if I need to. We’re starting with her last known, which was Barre, and working backward until we find any sort of indication she ended up somewhere else. Hopefully we can track down some mates who have heard from her or have her friended on Facebook.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “Seriously, if I could get on her Facebook it’s likely I could turn up more information than I could any other way. If it comes down to it I’ll ask Doug if he can hack in for me.”

“Facebook,” Jean-Paul said, wrinkling his nose. He still didn’t get the Facebook craze or understand why everyone under the age of thirty-five seemed to feel the need to put all of their information in one place so people could find them. Come to think of it, he tended to avoid those sorts of sites like the plague. He never even really used the mansion’s journal system all that much, and it was protected from outside people. “Her work friends in Barre, they were not so helpful.” Frowning at that, the Quebecois shook his head. He couldn’t imagine someone turning up to ask him a question about one of the people he worked with then stonewalling them. Admittedly, none of his friends were dealing with stalkers, so perhaps her work friends had cultivated a facade of unhelpfulness in an effort to protect her.

He wasn’t sure they deserved the benefit of the doubt, though.

“No, they really weren’t. She went to school here so I’m hoping maybe she’s got a high school friend she’s kept close to since she left. How many people actually stay in contact with friends once they leave high school, though? I hear about people and their whole be-eff-eff thing, but I haven’t actually witnessed it just about ever. You change so much between being a kid and turning into an adult.” Not that everyone reached adulthood before the age of forty. Or possibly ever.

“Not I,” Jean-Paul said, shrugging. “Of course, I did not go to school in the way others did.” And Belmonde was dead. His sister was... still on Muir, so far as he knew. He hadn’t known her when he was in school, though. Not high school, at least. God, that seemed like such a long time ago. “I was never so good at keeping friends, though. Not from the things I remember, at least. To be fair, I was not such a good friend to have.”

Vanessa wrapped an arm around Jean-Paul’s shoulders and leaned into him, grinning. “Mi amor, you are a fantastic friend. Anyone who says otherwise should accompany you to a cherry stem tying contest.” She giggled, imagining the reaction most people would have had to the night they had after that. “You used to be a bigger dick than you are now. Plus, you had too many children you were close to. It was sort of wrong and dirty, honestly. In a ‘get away from my kid or I’ll shoot you’ kind of way. Though, technically, appropriate. I’m pretty sure. Technically.” Though he did end up dating a much younger man when he had come back with his head all screwy. Maybe that’s how Jean-Paul’s tendency to befriend all the kidlets changed. Thank God if it was.

“I do not remember being so close to only children,” Jean-Paul said, frowning a little. “I am glad, though, that you think I am not such a dick, as you say.” He hooked his arm around Vanessa’s waist and nodded. “But when I was younger, I know - I was not such a good friend. I did not like people.”

“I don’t like people, but I’m not a lousy friend,” she pointed out. “But I’ll take your word on that.” Vanessa yawned, though she had no real right to be tired. It was probably a weird reaction from spending so much time driving. She liked driving, but she still got restless from all that stillness. Now she was half skipping down the sidewalk next to Jean-Paul, the bouncing helping to burn off a little more energy. “I want a bail jumper after this. I really do. I don’t usually do bail jumpers, but I figure some small time hood would be a nice change from the breadcrumb trail.”

“They are not so difficult to track down,” Jean-Paul said, nodding. “Or, I think... maybe it is only that, once I have found them, it is not so difficult to catch them. They always run. I am always faster than they are. I would feel sad for them, but it is good money.”

“Ah, the vain attempts to escape Vespa Special,” Vanessa said with a whimsical sigh. “That’s terribly tragic for them. And they aren’t all that smart, I’d think. If they were they wouldn’t have gotten arrested in the first place. Smart criminals don’t get caught.” She tapped a finger against her temple, nodding.

“Oui, smart criminals are often rich and have enough money to make sure they are not caught at the bad things they are doing. And so, they pay lawyers, also.” Jean-Paul nodded, a brief memory flashing through his mind of Belmonde and a meeting with people who weren’t entirely respectable in the neighborhood. He pushed the thought away, though, and nodded ahead of them. “Here, the library. It is the one we are looking for, is it not?”

Vaenssa squinted up at it and then fished a bit of paper out of her pocket. “Yes, sir, indeed it is.” She grinned and kissed Jean-Paul on the cheek before more or less pulling him into the building with her. Really, she looked so much more respectable than she generally acted with him. Her normal-people colored alt was on and she was the sort of person who looked very professional when serious. And yet here Vanessa was, dragging her friend inside because she was restless. She should have gone running before doing this.

After asking the librarian where the periodicals were kept, she headed off to sort through old newspapers with Jean-Paul.

Three or four newspapers later - Jean-Paul didn’t keep count, they all blended together - and the Quebecois sat back in his seat so he could rub at the back of his neck. This was boring, dusty work, but it was better than being stuck behind a desk all day or trying to figure out what on earth his neighbors were doing. Still, he needed something to distract himself with for a moment, so he asked, “You cleared last Sunday of work so you could go somewhere - how as your trip?” Because if he was going to be distracted, then Vanessa should be distracted, too.

Searching the page for something, Vanessa didn’t answer right away. Her expression closed down, though, and when she looked up at Jean-Paul again she looked almost...sad. “It was great. I got a new toy and met a bloke who has ties to my old crew, apparently. The car ride sucked. But, you know me and sitting still and all.” There was a very faintly nervous quality to her voice, as if she were covering something up. Vanessa didn’t really want to talk about Sunday or what had happened with Wade but she didn’t have the confidence in herself to cover properly so Jean-Paul wouldn’t pick anything up. Not when he asked without warning anyway. She turned the page and went back to searching, though she was obviously more distracted now.

Jean-Paul frowned, head tilting to the side just a bit. “Oui? And something else.” He wasn’t sure what it was, precisely, but he got the distinct impression she wasn’t telling him everything. Vanessa rarely if ever kept things to herself when it came to getting new toys, at least. That was odd. “You have told me nothing of the person you went with, but he has kidnapped you twice now. What of him?”

“Oh, Wade?” She shrugged, trying to keep the movement casual and only mostly succeeding. She kept her eyes on the newspaper. “He’s new to the mansion, flirts with everything that walks, is willing to do stupid and dangerous things with me like ice climbing, bought me my toy out of nowhere. I think that’s about all there is to say about him. He seems sort of cracked on the journals and stuff half the time but I’m pretty sure the vast majority of that is an act and he isn’t actually as stupid or insane as he comes off. I could be wrong there, though.”

The Quebecois looked at his friend through slightly narrowed eyes. She only ever really poked and prodded him when he needed it and so he returned that favor, giving her room when she asked for it, companionship when she wanted that. This, though... this was strange. Vanessa was almost never nervous. She could take people to pieces and stay calm. He’d literally seen her carving people up with a knife.

Extending one foot, Jean-Paul tapped his toes against Vanessa’s ankle. “What happened, mon ami?”

Vanessa sighed, groaned and slumped down in her chair until her head was hanging back and she was staring at the ceiling. “I shot myself in the foot. Figuratively, anyway. Fuck, not even that. I thought I shot myself in the foot but I actually got like my inner thigh and the wound is dangerously close to the femoral only I didn’t realize that’s where the shot was going when I pulled the trigger.” Her head turned and she peered over at Jean-Paul. “Too much gun metaphor?”

Holding up one hand, Jean-Paul measured the distance from his forefinger to his thumb and then made it a little less than an inch. “A small bit, I think,” he said. Then he tipped his head back so he, too, could stare at the ceiling and asked, “How did you shoot yourself? What were you aiming for?”

“I was aiming for a toe. You know, something you would notice wasn’t there when you looked at it but as long as you were wearing shoes you wouldn’t really notice it at all because you’d learn to redistribute your weight to walk without it easily enough once the pain subsided anyway.” She groaned a little. “I shot myself by cutting off a very early stage something or other. Just totally put a stop to it. And for a valid reason and I still stand by that reason but... I didn’t think not having it would matter so much to me. It was a toe. After I pulled the trigger it turned out it was more like I blew out my knee cap. No matter what, you never forget that you’re missing your knee. You can only compensate around it so much, you’re always reminded about it and you just don’t really function right without it. You learn how to function without it, but you’re always aware that there’s something sort of...off about you now. That’s what I did. I shot out my fucking knee and now I need a goddamn prosthetic.”

Jean-Paul made a point of looking under the table at Vanessa’s legs. “Mon ami, I do not see something so wrong with your leg that you would need a prosthetic.” Reaching over, he squeezed her hand. “I think it would be difficult to do that to yourself. Especially after such a short time. What is it that makes you think it was your knee you shot?”

“My irrational reaction to it. I’ve been shot before, I don’t take it like a girl. This? This I took like a girl.” She gave her friend a rueful smile and squeezed his hand back. “Sorta how I would have taken it if I’d pulled the trigger on Lex when we first started dating and I was sort of crazy happy with him. Like I said, irrational reaction. I sort of realized, though, that I wanted that. With him. Down the line when I had more faith in myself to not make a mess of things. Guess the trade off is that I already did.” And she did it so damn well, too.

“And like I said, I had a good reason. Of course, my reason was something like I’m deathly allergic to mosquito bites and so I tried to shoot one with a shotgun before it could land on my knee. But, hey, now I’m only down a knee and if I let it bite me I’d be out a life.” A frustrated growl sounded. “I hate when I’m a girl. It makes me want to literally shoot myself to distract me from it, actually.”

Snorting, Jean-Paul shook his head. “I am not following your metaphors so well, but I think maybe you should distract yourself some other way, since the newspapers are not helping and things. Lunch, oui? And then we will return to see about finding something or someone with information. We might ask the people at the restaurant. Asking people, it is better, sometimes, than digging through newspapers.”

“Metaphor girl strikes out,” Vanessa mumbled. She pulled herself upright again and started to stack her newspapers up neatly. One stack she had gone through was set to one side and another was left in front of the chair that she still needed to sort through. She would talk to the librarian and ask her to not put them away.

“Metaphor girl would be a terrible superhero name,” Jean-Paul said, his tone very, very serious. As serious as the expression he wore on his face when he patted Vanessa’s knee and continued, “Promise me you will not use it when you do something foolish like join the X-Men.”

Vanessa pulled a face as if something smelled foul. “If I ever do that do you promise to shoot me? I mean literally, with an actual gun and to the head? You can use my new toy if you want. It’s got an effective range of over a mile. You could blow half my body off from fairly close range.”

“I do not think this is something I would like to do,” Jean-Paul said, tone contemplative as he pushed his chair back and stood. “Come, I will simply prevent you from joining and that will save me the trouble of dealing with your toy.”

“But she’s shiny and I know how you like shiny.” Vanessa was grinning now. She got up and half-draped herself over her friend so she practically hung off his arm. “I am dead sexy in leather, but their leather onsies look just isn’t my style. It’s all about easy access, Vespa Special. Easy. Access. And shiny.”

Expression entirely angelic, Jean-Paul reached down and patted Vanessa’s ass. “Oui. Easy access.”

For some reason him patting her ass gave her a wicked, wicked thought that had her smiling most mischeviously. “Only when your fingers wish to be very, very helpful, mi amor.”

Hand stilling on Vanessa’s ass, Jean-Paul considered that as they walked past the librarian. “Mm... oui, this is so.” Pausing, he turned to the woman behind the front desk and said, “If you would not mind, my friend and I, we are going to get lunch. We left a few papers there, in the back, but we will return to finish looking through them, we promise.” He gave the woman a pleasant smile, then bent down and hefted Vanessa over one shoulder, her legs dangling in front of him. Patting her ass again, he beamed at the librarian and then headed for the front doors.

The librarian, a woman in her mid-thirties, was caught between laughing and finding the pair wholly inappropriate. When Vanessa waved at her from where she hung down by her friend’s ass it seemed to break the woman who started laughing.

Vanessa smacked Jean-Paul’s ass, which she had a fantastic view of currently, and grinned at the few people they passed on their way out of the library and onto the sidewalk. “If one Will is good, is two better,” she mused aloud. “Before you went crazy you were all for sex with women-who-were-wearing-men as long as it didn’t involve a relationship. But, you know, gay boyfriend and all...” She was wearing the most amused smirk while dangling.

Pausing outside, Jean-Paul looked up and then said, “Do not wiggle,” before lifting off and heading in the general direction of the area of town that seemed like it would have food. He considered her question, then asked, “Are you propositioning me, mon ami?”

Vanessa’s arms went around his waist and held on tightly when he left the ground. Seriously? He was flying with her in a fieman’s carry. That was so wrong. His question, though, drew a bit of laughter from her. “Aye, I might be. Just think what two of those tongues could do at once.”

Jean-Paul stopped in mid-flight, hovering a few stories above the ground, and tipped his head to the side as he considered that question. “Mon Dieu. I am not sure I would survive it.” Then he carried on, flying until he found a place that promised delicious food and beer.

“It would be a fantastic way to go, wouldn’t it?” She grinned to herself. “Un petit mort in so many ways, aye?”

Setting Vanessa on her feet once they’d landed, Jean-Paul grinned. “Innuendo, mon ami. I like it.” He offered her his arm as they headed for the restaurant’s doors, pausing only long enough for him to ask, “Does this mean we are calling Will when we return to the city?”

Her arm slipped around his and he got a very small waggle of eyebrows. “Does this mean you’re taking me up on my proposition?”

“I am not so sure how Will would feel about this.”

“So, basically you’re saying yes but he has to say yes, too? Which, for the record, is obvious because people get sorta weirded out when they see themselves the way everyone else does. I bet I could convince him.” She grinned, the expression wicked and full of the promise of trouble.

“We will see, mon ami.” Jean-Paul wasn’t entirely sure, but he wasn’t unsure, either. He thought maybe Will wouldn’t be so willing. And when it came right down to it, he didn’t know that he, himself, would be so willing if Vanessa truly called his bluff for this. It wasn’t really the sort of offer that got made every day, after all.

“Promises, promises.” She waved a hand dismissively as they finally went through the doors of the restaurant. In all honesty, she probably wouldn’t make good on the offer. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep with anyone, even Will or Warren. Because every time she thought about it somehow her brain brought it back around to Wade and the whole situation just wasn’t inspiring her libido in the least.