xp_logs | Manuel and Marie-Ange, just a friendly chat.

Marie-Ange and Manuel sit and discuss fashion, attraction and the ethics of Manuel's powers. A brief moment of friendly discussion. Too bad it can't last, huh?

Manuel is sitting out in a sunny spot by the kitchen. He's got a cigarette lit, taking occasional puffs from it, but instead he's indulging in an old favorite past-time - people-watching. And judging by the cringing, he's not liking what he's seeing. But he's not wearing the shades and his eyes aren't glowing red, so he's definitely not altering the students as the bustle by.

Marie-Ange is, for her part, gracelessly sprawled in a chair, frowning in irritation at her laptop. Every so often, she rolls her eyes, and taps the same set of keys. Its obvious something on the screen is irksome, both by what she's projecting emotionally and the vexed expression on her face.
Manuel looks over, intrigued by the emotions she's projecting all over the place. "You look terrible." he offers. "Did you bother to think before you got dressed this morning, or did you just grab any old thing?"

"I overslept, for which I can in part, blame you." Marie-Ange rolls her eyes, the irritation increasing. "I grabbed the first things I knew were clean." She looks down at the grayish-lavender top she threw on this morning. "I'm not entirely sure this is mine, actually."

Manuel chuckles. "Sure, disavow any knowledge after the fact. Well, even that old rag isn't as bad as some of the things I'm seeing around here. My God, does _no one_ pay attention to what they wear anymore?"

Marie-Ange looks up, and folds her arms. "I believe the expression is 'that is the pot calling the kettle black.', is it not? Or was that a different Manuel de la Rocha in baggy jeans and a white t-shirt wandering around a few days ago?"

Manuel nods sagely. "Ahhh, but you see, I make baggy jeans and a white T-shirt look _good_. It's all about the mood you're trying to set. Yours, right now, says "Help me, I'm a fashion disaster!""

"No, it says 'I have chronic insomnia and too much to do and not enough time to do it. Unless, you care to let me out of my debt? I could easily find the time to coordinate my wardrobe to your liking then." The reply was sarcastic, though not entirely serious. "Besides, I am far from a disaster. I do not try to wear green and yellow in the same outfit. That is a disaster."

Manuel rolls his eyes. "Let me guess - Jubilee? The poster child for scrounging through the reject bin at the Gap? From what I've seen, she actually thinks she looks _good_ in that getup. And she's stupid-attached to that yellow coat of hers."

"If I start on Jubilee's sense of colour, I will go on for days. Clarice has a better grasp of tones than she does, and that says a lot, since Clarice is purple. Though, I suppose she's working with a disadvantage, since they don't make clothes designed for lavender skin. " Marie-Ange spread her arms in a gesture of frustration.

"Clarice is another one who thinks that the gypsy whore getup is still stylish and fresh. I swear, she seems to think that adding a scarf adds _elegance_." And he shudders violently for effect.

"It can, you know. Under some circumstances, none of which are being purple." A week ago, the 'whore' comment would've fazed Marie-Ange. Now, it was just a minor annoyance. "At least most of you men have some idea, or listen to people with some idea. Or are easily swayed by pouting."

"Not with the scarves _she_ uses. White silk, maybe. Plaid with glitter? Not bloody likely. And I agree, men are stupidly vulnerable. I'm intimately familiar with it. Empath, remember?" he smirks.

"Glitter is an abomination. It should have never been invented." Marie-Ange scowls, obviously disgusted. "Tacky, and goes with all of nothing. Worse on men." She smirks back, at Manuel's last comment. "I am fairly certain that if I, or anyone, forgot, you would make certain to remind them, and then make them feel in your debt to do so."

Manuel mock-gasps and clutches at the ribs over his heart. "Ah, you wound me!" he says while laughing. "Seriously, though. Take that boy, the one who makes more of himself. Jamie, I think he calls himself? He's just stupid _all the time_ over ... what's her name? Cat? Tigra? Something like that."

"Kitty. And, yes, they are dating." Marie-Ange smiles happily, pleased for her friends. "It is very cute, and she talked him into buying leather pants."

"See? That's exactly my point. Stupid." he says sagely. "And it isn't cute, it's sad. Besides, they're both fashion-impaired in exquisitely painful ways. She seems to think that baggy and shapeless will magically prevent us all from noticing her complete lack of body, and Jamie - well, he's your walking advert for the Ugly American."

Marie-Ange rolled her eyes. "Kitty has more than enough fashion sense, and Jamie is attractive if you like farm boys. You are just ... " She searched for the right word, but gave up after a moment. "I do not know what you are, but they are not sad."

Manuel sighs. Loudly. In the universal boy-child way that clearly indicates that the female-type person they are talking to has taken complete leave of their senses and has returned to the planet Venus. "Fashion sense? KITTY? Are you _insane_? Admittedly, she avoids me for some reason, but I've seen her about. Baggy sweats and loose-fit jeans do not a pretty girl make."

"Obviously, you have only seen her after her ballet class." Obviously, Manuel was on drugs. That would explain a lot, actually. Marie-Ange shrugged. "Kitty -does- have nice clothes. She just has different interests than what to wear every day. She has enough taste to put Jamie in things that make him look good, at least."

"That make him look less offensive, anyway. I've never seen him in anything but a T-shirt unless someone bullies him into it. I mean, come _on_, the man probably owns _overalls_! He thinks Milan is just a city in Italy! He thinks a catwalk is the path from Kitty's room to her ballet class!"

"You are being silly now. Not everyone cares about clothing every day. Clothes may make the man, but they do not make all of him." It was one thing to gently prod the others about their clothing, but this was getting a bit much. Jamie was a perfectly nice boy, and a good friend. "Jamie is perfectly attractive. If you like big farm boys with shoulders."

Manuel rolls his eyes. "As Jubilee says, whatEVAH. Now, look at that guy over there. Somebody that big shouldn't be wearing jeans that ... low. That's just vile."

The sudden flash of disgust Marie-Ange projected was probably visible to even a non-empath. "Ugh. It would possibly, maybe, be forgivable if he had a nice butt, but that is just wrong." She glared mockingly at Manuel. "I hold you personally responsible if I go blind from that."

"You're not the one who gets his sense of being "stylish". I think I need to go scrub my brain out." he whines. "And that one, over there? Umm, hate to break it to you, darling, but a belly-ring and a half-shirt are _not_ attractive when you tip the scales at Too Many kilos."

"I am not sure belly-rings are attractive, ever, Manuel. They're ... ah.. what is the word?" Marie-Ange scowled. Belly button piercings were so very, very tacky. Ugh. Earrings were one thing. Even Shinobi's eyebrow was amusing, but that was just .. "Ah. Skanky. That's it."

"Au contraire. A belly-ring on the right girl can be quite invigorating. It's a sign, a tease. Could be very sexy." The fact that Amanda has one has _nothing_ to do with that belief, no ma'am!

"Ick. No. There are few things tackier." Marie-Ange is obviously not in agreement. "And they are worse on men. Ew."

"On men, they're just hideous." he agrees. "So - you don't much care for the piercings? The barbaric sexy look?"

"Eh. No. An earring on a man can be -very nice-, but anything else is just not attractive, except under very special cases." Shinobi's eyebrow ring is one of those cases, mostly because Shinobi is just an entertaining kind of guy. "Though, the worst - I saw a man at the club who had his nipples pierced, and that was just really, really nasty. He didn't even have a nice chest."

Manuel hrms. "I suppose I can see that. How about on women? Do you like them as exotic beauties or a little plainer, less full of flash and fire?"

At that, Marie-Ange rolls her eyes. "Whatever Monet told you, it is not funny, and not likely true." She's all at once, annoyed, disgusted, and highly, highly vexed, all directly at Monet. "Of anyone here, you should know I like men only, Manuel, and before you ask, I don't want you to change it for me."

Manuel can't help but laugh at that. "Ah, she got to you, I see. A shame - she could have taught you things that you'd be lucky to survive with your sanity intact. She's _very_ talented."

"I did not need to know that.", she responds, without a hint of embarrassment on her face, though she is, just a tiny bit.

"Ahh, but you did. Now you have something on Monet that you can use to your advantage. A free gift, from me to you. Use it well." he smirks, then turns back to people-watching. "Oh, now here's a real cutie." And he's referring to one of the younger students, barely post-pubescent, although ripening nicely into what promises to be a very lush build.

"Manuel! She's thirteen!" Marie-Ange covers her face. "At least you could be discreet, please?" She's not totally unaware of his tastes in that regard, through a few comments in various conversations, and at least one discussion that still made her want to blush.

"Fourteen, at least. And so? She's ripe enough." he grins. "Besides, there's one for you. He even speaks French, from what I hear." And he nods his head in the direction of a taller lanky first-year, all awkward angles and too-big hands and feet.

Marie-Ange snorted, loudly. "There are perhaps four people here who speak French properly. Not counting Doug. But that boy? He is not one of them. I've graded his essays for Ms. Frost."

"Ahh, but he's cute. Ahhh, do not deny it, I can feel it from you." he laughs. "Now, let's play a new game. It's called "Who Does Marie-Ange Think Is Hot?" Shall I begin? I think I will..."

"Who? That boy? You must be joking." Marie-Ange scowled and peered at the young man. Well, he did have a somewhat nice butt, kind of .. actually, kind of not all that dissimilar to Doug's.

"Our first winner is, as always, the suave and debonair Manuel de la Rocha. The complete package - breeding, wealth, and devastating good looks. In second place by far we have - well, let's see here..." he grins.

"Is this truly necessary?" She was, actually kind of curious, but god -forbid- she admit it. Even around Manuel.

"Is it necessary? Probably not. But it _is_ fun - for me, anyway. Probably not a very good game to play with other people around, though. Ah well."

"Other people who are not you, or other people who are not the person you are speaking to?" Marie-Ange tilted her head. Damn. Now she -was- curious.

"Other people." Manuel answers sagely. "I always think it's amusing. Might as well get _some_ enjoyment out of my power, right?"

"If you already know who I think is attractive, why are you ... worried about telling me?" The question was tentative. Marie-Ange wasn't even quite sure if she was asking the right one. The language barrier was still so damn infuriating sometimes.

Manuel sighs. "Forget I mentioned it. It was just something Ms Frost said to me the last time we talked."

"That you shouldn't tell people how they feel?" Now she -was- confused. "I think we're hitting a problem with the language. Geh. Why couldn't you just speak French?"

"When you speak a civilized tongue, so will I." he retorts with a smile. "That I shouldn't tell people how other people feel about them. Or something like that."

Marie-Ange frowned. "Well, I suppose not. It would be startling sometimes, I think. I am not sure I would want to know if someone had a strong feeling about me without them telling me."

"Why?" Manuel asks with total sincerity.

"If they had a good reason to not tell me, it would not be very fair to them if I learned it from someone else." Marie-Ange frowns, and tries to sort of the concept herself. It is not an easy thing to explain.

"Like, say, from precognition?" he asks tellingly. "Is it still fair then?"
That would be why its hard to explain. "I don't know," she said, entirely truthful, but confused. "I just do not know how I would feel if you told me someone hated me, or loved me, or.. anything, I did not know about already."

Manuel shrugs. "If you don't want me to, I won't. Even though I think that is a foolish attitude."

"I am curious. Which, I suppose you can tell. I am very curious as to who you think I find attractive. I just am not sure I want to know who finds -me- attractive. If they want me to know, I would think they would say, no?"

Manuel just laughs at that idea. Laughs until he very nearly falls out of his chair. "Oh, that's rich." he finally manages to choke out.

"What? WHAT?" Marie-Ange folds her arms. "You are the most frustrating person."

"Do you really think that people _talk to each other_ about this sort of thing?" he chokes out around his mirth. "Do you tell everyone you find attractive that you find them attractive?"

"No. Not like that, but there are ways to tell without empathy, Manuel. Have you been sleeping in Speech class?" Marie-Ange rolls her eyes. "I imagine I could guess at least two of the people you would name."

"People _lie_. All the time. Every day, and with every breath. My way is quicker, easier, and does not lie. I see no reason to use yours if I do not have to." he says with a straight face.

"That only helps you. It does not help -me- if you tell me something about someone. You could just as easily be lying." Marie-Ange responds. Blast. Now she's -really- curious, and he has to know it. She's also bothered by the idea of asking though, which keeps her from saying.

Manuel smiles. "No, I don't believe that it does. Life is, like they say, a bitch that way."

"So I have heard. I still think it is not entirely fair if you tell me without the other person having a say.. I don't know. It just feels wrong." Marie-Ange frowned. "I cannot explain it."

"Feels wrong? If you say so. I think I know a thing or two about feelings, and there's nothing wrong about it. So now, I think I will attend class. Good day, Marie-Ange." he says before standing to leave.

The urge to respond was fairly strong, and Marie-Ange considered that it was more than likely that Manuel knew how strong it was. He was entirely too good at knowing her urges, and their strengths. She forced the urge down and just sat silently, watching him leave. As he disappeared from her sight, she chuckled dryly, wondering just how annoyed Manuel would be if he knew she thought leather pants would certainly -not- suit him.

* Lyrics in LJ-Cut from the musical "Chess"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

x-crowdofone.livejournal.com

I haven't owned overalls for years. So there. And those are comfortable shirts, even if they are the results of my cousins' ongoing Ugliest T-Shirt Ever contest.

And some of the Hawaiian shirts are vintage. Even the loud ones.