Different Breed: Jean-Paul & Raymonde Belmonde | Friday Evening

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Jean-Paul discovers Philippe Leblanc's fate. His former guardian, Raymonde, is unimpressed with the way he handled things and decides to assist.


Training having wrapped for the weekend, Jean-Paul had made his way back into Montreal proper to spend the weekend visiting friends. The first person he met with was Raymonde, who had his meetings and things with his business to attend to, but by the end of the evening, they'd managed to finish a companionable meal and agreed to brunch on Sunday. The younger man still had a suite of rooms in Raymonde's home despite owning his own apartment and, while he didn't intend to stay, he did want to pick up a few items.

Jean-Paul wandered into the living room, two different books in hand as he asked, "Which of these would you recommend? Training is not so strenuous that I wish only to sleep after it, but I would like something that is dry like the last thing you loaned me."

Glancing at Jean-Paul, Raymond muted the TV, "Have you heard?" he asked, gesturing vaguely to the TV, "About the IOC official?" he clarified. Anything involving the Olympics he kept tabs on, especially anything that might affect Jean-Paul.

"Pah," Jean-Paul said, making a face as he glanced toward the television. "Did he go public with his ridiculous accusations? My God, he thought to blackmail me. I could not believe it. Maurice said not to worry, I thought it would not matter."

"You knew this was a possibility?" Belmonde asked, turning now to face his ward completely. "And you didn't mention it?"

Frowning, Jean-Paul asked, "What, that he'd tell people I'm a mutant? Maurice assured me it was nothing to worry about. So I didn't worry."

Oh. Oh. Oh. No. "Jean-Paul," he said slowly. "The IOC official is dead."

Jean-Paul's eyes widened as he turned them to look at the text scrolling along the bottom of the muted television screen. "What?"

"That is what the news said," Belmonde replied, getting up to go get a beer, "You knew the man, at least a little from your training."

"No, no," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head as he sat on the couch, eyes still glued to the television. "I met him just once, at the gym last week. When he attempted to blackmail me. And then... I went to Maurice."

It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, but then, Belmonde didn't quite believe in those. He just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his ward.

"I promise you," Jean-Paul said, looking back toward Raymonde with a slightly desperate expression. "I did not know this man before he attempted to blackmail me. I - let me call Maurice."

Was he an idiot!? "Jean-Paul!" Belmonde shook his head, "Whatever you do, do not call him," he cautioned. "In fact, you don't even know the IOC man is dead. You know nothing. Got it?" The writing on the wall was getting very, very clear.

"I can't just let this go," Jean-Paul said, gesturing toward the television which was now displaying a piece about gang violence in Montreal. "At the very least, the security cameras at the gym have the two of us on them!"

Sighing, Belmonde rubbed a hand over the stubble of his jaw, "I will call. You will be silent or you will not be there when I do it, understand?" he finally compromised. Damn the kid.

"Yes, of course," Jean-Paul said, nodding readily.

Picking up the phone, Belmonde dialed the number and waited for Maurice to answer. He could already tell that this wasn't going to go well, but he hoped it was just him being paranoid. He'd been involved in too many shady deals not to trust his instincts though.

The phone rang a few times before loud, audible chatter came out the speaker. "Yes, yes, hold on," a voice could be heard saying in the background. "Yes," it said louder, more clearly. "Hello?"

"Cloutier. Belmonde," he said in lieu of a proper greeting. "We need to talk. Tomorrow."