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xp_logsAfter sex and alcohol fail as coping mechanisms, Jean-Paul gives in and hits up his last resort.
"Well you made it easy, at least," Topaz commented as she walked into her suite, dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes. Midnightmewed at the sight of her human, hopping out of the not-so-drunk Frenchman's lap and going to greet Topaz. She scooped Midnight up and brought her right back to the couch, depositing Midnight into Jean-Paul's lap. "How did you find out?"
"I asked Everett Thomas for assistance with my powers. He said the flight would be easy enough, but the speed could be problematic," Jean-Paul answered, glaring at the bottles of beer lined up on the table next to him. It wasn't as though he'd been trying very hard to get drunk. It was more that now that he wasn't drunk, he was irritated about it. Lips thinning in frustration again, he petted Midnight without actually looking at her. Cats stayed longer if you refused to acknowledge you were petting them.
"Ah."
Midnight purred happily, settling down Jean-Paul's lap, happy for attention of any kind. She was very much a lap cat. Topaz was going to claim no responsibility for that trait. "And you don't know when you manifested?"
"He could not tell me," Jean-Paul said. "And know only that I manifested the flight after the accident. There is no reason to think so much that I manifested the speed before then, but I also do not know that I did not manifest before then."
"No, I guess you wouldn't," Topaz murmured. It was one of the rare times when she didn't know what to say - because a sarcastic answer wouldn't really cut it here. But even if she hadn't been able to feel the waves of anger and self-loathing (with more than a hint of sadness) rolling off of Jean-Paul, it would have been obvious this was upsetting to him. And sarcasm wasn't going to cut it. "Well fuck."
"Oui," Jean-Paul said. "That is what I did all yesterday. It was not so much help."
Topaz raised an eyebrow at Jean-Paul. "Yeah I can't imagine it actually would," she said dryly. "And today you're trying to get drunk?"
"I can feel you judging me," Jean-Paul noted, scratching behind Midnight's ears. "And I do not care."
"Not judging." And it was true. She wasn't exactly one to judge people's coping mechanisms. "Just making sure I follow the chain of events correctly. Between the sex and the drinking have you talked to anyone? Besides my cat, I mean?"
"Of course not." He looked at Topaz askance. "I am being ridiculous. I know this."
"I didn't say you were being ridiculous," Topaz pointed out, grabbing the bottle from his hand and taking a quick sip. "Although your taste in drink choice is something to be desired. I'm not gonna pretend I know how it feels to have my entire life and career thrown into question because of a genetic defect I have no control over, but I can't imagine it feels good. Sounds kind of hell-ish, actually."
Snorting softly, Jean-Paul said, "This is why I like you. Thank you for not attempting to coat this thing with sugar." To show his appreciation, he opened a bottle of beer for her and handed over the new on in exchange for the mostly empty one. "It is not a good feeling."
"Life's too short for sugar." Topaz took the bottle, tilting it toward Jean-Paul in a mock toast before taking a sip. "So what're you thinking now?"
"Well, sex did not work for me. Getting drunk is not working for me, either. This leads me to believe that drunk sex would be very disappointing, would it not? So I do not know," Jean-Paul said. "Maybe I will just continue to steal your cat indefinitely."
"And my couch by proxy." Not that Topaz minded. "Does petting the cat help?"
"She is soft and adorable and she purrs all the time... until she decides my leg needs several small, claw-like holes in it, but. This is not the worst thing," Jean-Paul said rather than answering outright that yes, in fact, petting the cat helped. It was a mindless task, leaving the rest of his brain free to contemplate his position in the universe, specifically in relation to his life thus far and his Olympic medals. If he couldn't identify himself as an Olympic champion -- if he hadn't earned it, and therefore couldn't call himself that -- what was he?
"It's an aesthetic choice, I think. Everything looks better with several claw-like holes in it," Topaz said, sipping her drink. "So what're you gonna do now?"
"I do not know," Jean-Paul said. "There are few options. Obviously, skiing again... it is not something I should do."
"Probably not professionally, no," Topaz agreed. "What are the options you've got?"
"Not so many," Jean-Paul said, not wanting to seriously contemplate giving them back. His integrity as an athlete, though, demanded that he acknowledge the potential cheating, despite the fact that he'd had no idea he might be cheating in the first place. "It impacts everything. Without the Olympics, there are no endorsements. Without endorsements, there is no money. Without money... things become more complicated. School is all well and good, but only if I can continue to pay for it."
It stung, a little, to think that he might have to ask for Raymonde's help at all, but if he did the right thing -- and thus exposed himself to the potential backlash from the public as well as his sponsors and various sports authorities -- then he would have almost no other recourse.
"Yeah, those aren't great options." Topaz bit her lip. "Not to mention you could never go outside again."
Despite himself, Jean-Paul snorted at that. "Oui, this is true also. I could never show my very attractive face anywhere it would be likely to be recognized again. Which would make finding bedmates difficult. But this is why they have made image inducers, is it not?"
"True," Topaz conceded. "Although I do have to wonder how that would work with... you know what, never mind."
"Quoi? How it would work with what?"
"Nothing. Keep petting the cat."
Jean-Paul kept petting the cat. He gave Topaz his best unimpressed face, though. "You are ridiculous."
"Hey, watch who you're insulting. This is still my suite and that's still my cat." Not that she would actually kick him out. She wasn't that cruel.
Scoffing, Jean-Paul said, "That was not an insult, nag. You know this by now, do you not?"
Topaz bit down a smirk, leaning back on the couch and drawing her legs up under herself. "Of course I do, elf. Doesn't mean I can't give you a hard time."
"Hmph," Jean-Paul huffed, slouching down into the couch cushions. "This calls for Chinese food."
"And alcohol," Topaz added, going to get the Chinese menu out of the kitchen drawer. "Can't forget that."
"This is why we are friends," Jean-Paul called after her. "I am thinking wine. I am very tired of beer."
"Wine, Chinese food, and a cat." Topaz checked off an imaginary list. "Yup, you're in the right place."
"Well you made it easy, at least," Topaz commented as she walked into her suite, dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes. Midnightmewed at the sight of her human, hopping out of the not-so-drunk Frenchman's lap and going to greet Topaz. She scooped Midnight up and brought her right back to the couch, depositing Midnight into Jean-Paul's lap. "How did you find out?"
"I asked Everett Thomas for assistance with my powers. He said the flight would be easy enough, but the speed could be problematic," Jean-Paul answered, glaring at the bottles of beer lined up on the table next to him. It wasn't as though he'd been trying very hard to get drunk. It was more that now that he wasn't drunk, he was irritated about it. Lips thinning in frustration again, he petted Midnight without actually looking at her. Cats stayed longer if you refused to acknowledge you were petting them.
"Ah."
Midnight purred happily, settling down Jean-Paul's lap, happy for attention of any kind. She was very much a lap cat. Topaz was going to claim no responsibility for that trait. "And you don't know when you manifested?"
"He could not tell me," Jean-Paul said. "And know only that I manifested the flight after the accident. There is no reason to think so much that I manifested the speed before then, but I also do not know that I did not manifest before then."
"No, I guess you wouldn't," Topaz murmured. It was one of the rare times when she didn't know what to say - because a sarcastic answer wouldn't really cut it here. But even if she hadn't been able to feel the waves of anger and self-loathing (with more than a hint of sadness) rolling off of Jean-Paul, it would have been obvious this was upsetting to him. And sarcasm wasn't going to cut it. "Well fuck."
"Oui," Jean-Paul said. "That is what I did all yesterday. It was not so much help."
Topaz raised an eyebrow at Jean-Paul. "Yeah I can't imagine it actually would," she said dryly. "And today you're trying to get drunk?"
"I can feel you judging me," Jean-Paul noted, scratching behind Midnight's ears. "And I do not care."
"Not judging." And it was true. She wasn't exactly one to judge people's coping mechanisms. "Just making sure I follow the chain of events correctly. Between the sex and the drinking have you talked to anyone? Besides my cat, I mean?"
"Of course not." He looked at Topaz askance. "I am being ridiculous. I know this."
"I didn't say you were being ridiculous," Topaz pointed out, grabbing the bottle from his hand and taking a quick sip. "Although your taste in drink choice is something to be desired. I'm not gonna pretend I know how it feels to have my entire life and career thrown into question because of a genetic defect I have no control over, but I can't imagine it feels good. Sounds kind of hell-ish, actually."
Snorting softly, Jean-Paul said, "This is why I like you. Thank you for not attempting to coat this thing with sugar." To show his appreciation, he opened a bottle of beer for her and handed over the new on in exchange for the mostly empty one. "It is not a good feeling."
"Life's too short for sugar." Topaz took the bottle, tilting it toward Jean-Paul in a mock toast before taking a sip. "So what're you thinking now?"
"Well, sex did not work for me. Getting drunk is not working for me, either. This leads me to believe that drunk sex would be very disappointing, would it not? So I do not know," Jean-Paul said. "Maybe I will just continue to steal your cat indefinitely."
"And my couch by proxy." Not that Topaz minded. "Does petting the cat help?"
"She is soft and adorable and she purrs all the time... until she decides my leg needs several small, claw-like holes in it, but. This is not the worst thing," Jean-Paul said rather than answering outright that yes, in fact, petting the cat helped. It was a mindless task, leaving the rest of his brain free to contemplate his position in the universe, specifically in relation to his life thus far and his Olympic medals. If he couldn't identify himself as an Olympic champion -- if he hadn't earned it, and therefore couldn't call himself that -- what was he?
"It's an aesthetic choice, I think. Everything looks better with several claw-like holes in it," Topaz said, sipping her drink. "So what're you gonna do now?"
"I do not know," Jean-Paul said. "There are few options. Obviously, skiing again... it is not something I should do."
"Probably not professionally, no," Topaz agreed. "What are the options you've got?"
"Not so many," Jean-Paul said, not wanting to seriously contemplate giving them back. His integrity as an athlete, though, demanded that he acknowledge the potential cheating, despite the fact that he'd had no idea he might be cheating in the first place. "It impacts everything. Without the Olympics, there are no endorsements. Without endorsements, there is no money. Without money... things become more complicated. School is all well and good, but only if I can continue to pay for it."
It stung, a little, to think that he might have to ask for Raymonde's help at all, but if he did the right thing -- and thus exposed himself to the potential backlash from the public as well as his sponsors and various sports authorities -- then he would have almost no other recourse.
"Yeah, those aren't great options." Topaz bit her lip. "Not to mention you could never go outside again."
Despite himself, Jean-Paul snorted at that. "Oui, this is true also. I could never show my very attractive face anywhere it would be likely to be recognized again. Which would make finding bedmates difficult. But this is why they have made image inducers, is it not?"
"True," Topaz conceded. "Although I do have to wonder how that would work with... you know what, never mind."
"Quoi? How it would work with what?"
"Nothing. Keep petting the cat."
Jean-Paul kept petting the cat. He gave Topaz his best unimpressed face, though. "You are ridiculous."
"Hey, watch who you're insulting. This is still my suite and that's still my cat." Not that she would actually kick him out. She wasn't that cruel.
Scoffing, Jean-Paul said, "That was not an insult, nag. You know this by now, do you not?"
Topaz bit down a smirk, leaning back on the couch and drawing her legs up under herself. "Of course I do, elf. Doesn't mean I can't give you a hard time."
"Hmph," Jean-Paul huffed, slouching down into the couch cushions. "This calls for Chinese food."
"And alcohol," Topaz added, going to get the Chinese menu out of the kitchen drawer. "Can't forget that."
"This is why we are friends," Jean-Paul called after her. "I am thinking wine. I am very tired of beer."
"Wine, Chinese food, and a cat." Topaz checked off an imaginary list. "Yup, you're in the right place."
