xp_logs | Kitty & Jean-Paul | Sunday Morning (backdated)

xp-northstar.livejournal.com posting in

Jean-Paul is recognized for the first time. Unfortunately, it's by the woman who's apparently his new roommate.

Jean-Paul sighed. He had a duffel bag over each shoulder full of clothes and a box of books. He'd brought his things for school, the assigned texts for the classes he wouldn't be catching up on long-distance. Though perhaps he still could. The books were under one arm as he headed for what he thought would be his permanent suite. He'd been in a temporary guest suite, whatever that meant. As opposed to the permanent guest suite? Were you a guest if you were there permanently?

Sighing again, he shook his head, then stopped. There was a door, it was propped open, he'd been told to pick a suite and to let someone know which one it was. This seemed as good an option as any. So Jean-Paul nudged the door open just to check and see that no one else was there. It didn't seem like anyone was - indeed, it didn't seem like anyone had been in it in quite some time. There were none of the signs of life you'd expect if someone was living there, at the very least.

Content with the fact that he would have the suite to himself, he walked inside and moved to the room on the left side and began unpacking things. The books went on the nightstand. The clothing went... well, mostly in drawers. He made mental notes to buy miscellaneous living items - a comforter and better pillows and something to make this place seem like someone with personality lived there. A poster or something for the wall.

Kitty yawned as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Noise... her mind registered some sort of racket on the other side of the wall. I bet Jean is up to something. Her eyes sparkled. I'll show her.

Leaning against the wall, she waited until the noise came close. Then her arms shot through the wall before the rest of her came tumbling through, laughing until she realized... it wasn't Jean.

"What the--" Her jaw dropped.

Jean-Paul flailed, letting out a noise that under no circumstances would he ever admit was even remotely like a squeak followed by a string of curses in mixed French and English. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't actually touching the floor any longer. "Marde," he cursed again. "Who are you?"

"I live here. Who are you--" Her eyes scanned him up and down. "No, wait, what the--" Her hand shot to her mouth as she realized who was standing in the other bedroom of her suite. Kitty turned, looking up in the corners. No camera there. At least not that I see. "Am I being punk'd?"

"Quoi?" Jean-Paul asked, somehow staying in the air as he looked at the women in confusion. And then he realized he was still floating and made that not-squeaking sound again as he dropped like a rock. Another string of muttered curses escaped him. "What is this? There is a wall - " But this place was full of mutants. More muttering ensued as he rubbed at his forehead. "

"You--you're that famous..." Kitty struggled to remember. "That famous snowboarder or something. You were in the Olympics." She scowled as she stepped closer, eyeing him. Was he a snowboarder?

Offended now, not even attempting to hide it, Jean-Paul said, "I do not snowboard." That was not technically true. He could snowboard and, in fact, had done it multiple times. He quite enjoyed it, when he was with the right people. But it was not what he was known for. Indignant now, he said, "I ski, niaiseux."

"Sorry," she blushed. "Anyhow, so what are you doing here? You're not a..." Then Kitty's jaw dropped in horror as she realized what had to be true. A scandalized gasp rose in her throat as she muttered, "Cheater."

Jean-Paul's jaw practically hit the floor before he said, "I do not cheat! It is only - I - " A frustrated noise left him before he pointed at her. "I was in a - a car crash, oui? And this made the... the - my ears..." He gestures toward them, then muttered, "Saint-ciboire-du-saint-sacrement! I did not cheat."

"But how could you not cheat? You're a mutant," Kitty accused. "Unless your power isn't something physical. Do you change colors or something?" She squinted at him, waiting for him to change.

"I did not..." Jean-Paul flailed his hand a little bit, the book he was holding very nearly flying out of it before he stopped the motion. "I did not manifest until the car crash. Marde. And this is why I will not ski again." Frowning intensely, he finished in a mutter. "I fly. Apparently. I cannot - I am not so good with it."

"Okay." She wasn't quite sure she bought it. "So...why are you in my room then?"

"Pssh - your room. You appeared from the wall!" Jean-Paul said, indignant again. "You are in my room!"

She sighed. "My suite, then. I guess technically this bedroom was empty." Kitty glanced at him, trying to size the man up. Does this mean I've got a roommate?

Jean-Paul wrinkled his nose, then looked around at everything he'd already unpacked. "They told me this was where I would be living now. It is more permanent, oui?" He wasn't at all sure how he felt about having a roommate. Especially one familiar enough with his chosen (former) sport to immediately recognize him, but. There was essentially nothing he could do about it. "Who are you, since you know me already?"

"Kate Pryde." She offered him a hand. "Currently I'm a bit of a layabout, I guess."

Shaking her hand, Jean-Paul shrugged. "I will only judge you for this if I manage to have a job again at some point."

"There's always pizza delivery," Kitty grinned.