xp_logs | Topaz, Stephen, & Jean-Paul

xp-northstar.livejournal.com posting in

Topaz and Jean-Paul find themselves unexpected allies in the face of water damage in the library.

"Have you ever considered sitting in a chair?"

Topaz had been wandering around the library, studying a book she'd found on ASL and practicing signs with her free hand. Her lessons with Artie were going well - she was actually really enjoying it.

But she couldn't resist needling the angry French man when she saw him sitting on a shelf. Again.

"Non," Jean-Paul answered, unconcerned. He didn't even raise his eyes from the book he held in his hands.

"That's hell on your back, you know. Sittin' hunched over like that for hours."

"I am comfortable, nag," Jean-Paul said, eyes sliding to the side to look at her before returning to his book.

"Well then, my apologies elf," Topaz replied evenly, turning her attention back to her book. "When you're in a back brace at thirty don't complain."

Jean-Paul scoffed. "A back brace. Do not be ridiculous." He needed a better nickname for her than 'nag.' Especially if she was going to go around calling him elf.

"Just sayin'." She actually had no intentions of continuing to call him elf, at least not in the company of other people. It was just the first thing she'd thought of. And not overly creative either, sadly. She walked away, doing another round around the library with her eyes still on the book.

Blessed silence. Jean-Paul hummed softly to himself as she walked away, content on his perch with his reading material. That is, of course, until he heard a very, very distinctive splat. Eyebrows shooting upward, he lifted his head and looked toward the young librarian. His eyes widened when he saw her expression.

Topaz froze, looking around wearily. Splats in a library were never good. "Elf?" She called uncertainly, hoping beyond hope he had just dropped a drink.

Carefully marking the page in his book, Jean-Paul closed it and hopped down off the top of the bookshelf where he sat. "It is not I, nag," he offered, frowning as they heard more splats.

"Owww, owww, owww," Stephen shot to his feet slapping at the hot water that had exploded from his water bottle. It was cold in the library and he'd felt like a hot drink to warm up. Only when he'd tried to heat up the water it hadn't just boiled, it had exploded into a rain of boiling water, soaking his clothes, the books, his homework. The teenager pulled his sodden sweater off throwing it to the floor as he stood up and backed away from the mess that had become his desk. He had wanted to warm up, but this was something else entirely.

Topaz frowned, following the panic and the slight feel of magic...to find Strange Jr. stripping off his sweater, soaking wet. "Stephen what're you-?" She paused, taking in the mess around them. "What happened?"

Scowling, Jean-Paul picked his way around the pile of wet sweater and splashed water. "The books," he said, gesturing to the stacks on the table, now drenched. Quietly, he began dropping every single sacrilegious curse he knew -- and his knowledge of sacrilegious curses was extensive.

"I'm sorry!" Stephen blurted out, he felt a little like a deer in headlights, he wanted to help but didn't dare move unless he made everything worse, or got glared at by the strange swearing man or Topaz. "I just wanted a hot drink but the water kinda blew up and it went everywhere."

Topaz took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. She couldn't say that much about magical hijinks. God knew she'd caused enough. But really? "That's what a microwave is for, Stephen."

"Ah ben câlice de crisse de tabarnak d'ostie de ciboire du saint-sacement!" Jean-Paul continued muttering curses as he picked up a particularly soggy book. Attempting to pat it dry with the hem of his shirt, the Quebecois looked at the young man responsible for the mess and said, "Be useful. Find a..." He paused, one hand caught in his shirt while he gestured toward the top of his head with the book in the other. "Sèche-cheveux -- hair dryer, oui?"

"Ummm... sure I know where to find one," Stephen acknowledged as he legged it out of the door. Clea probably had one, or knew someone who did right? At lest he hoped so or the angry man would probably use him to dry the books.

Topaz watched him go, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jeez, worse thing I ever did was bring chess pieces to life," she mumbled as she went to examine the books. "At least there wasn't any property damage."

The look Jean-Paul cast Topaz was unequivocally unimpressed. "For a librarian, you are remarkably unworried about the books. They are property, are they not?" He held out the one he'd attempted to dry off. At least it wasn't dripping. It was, however, very obviously suffering from an acute case of water damage.

"I meant I never caused any property damage," Topaz shot back as she gently slid another book off the shelf, frowning at it. She didn't really want to do this with magic. Who knew what it would do to the book. She set the book down and disappeared into the stacks, returning a moment later with her sweatshirt. And she began gently trying to dry the book off with it.

"Can we," Jean-Paul said, frowning at the mess around them. "Is it possible to ah..." He made a gesture with his hand. "Iron, oui? The pages? Or would this burn them?" Reaching for his mobile, he said, "I will Google this."

Topaz looked around, rather dismally, at the wet books. "I feel like no? Wet paper is usually fragile anyways, applying direct heat would probably be bad. Don't take my word on it though. I'm not exactly trained here."

"The internet," Jean-Paul said, still frowning, "Says to... air-dry them. Also, it says the sèche-cheveux would be bad. I do not think there is a way to help with the..." He gestured again, this time flattening his hand and weaving it up and down. "The warping."

Topaz sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Great. Make a note of which books are ruined, I'll talk to the professor about getting them replaced." She paused, shooting the angry French man a look. "I'm Topaz, by the way."

"I am Jean-Paul," he said, nodding to indicate their official introduction. "I will find the paper and pen for a list."