Jean-Paul Beaubier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xp_northstar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
xp_logs2018-08-15 04:28 am
xp_northstar) wrote in xp_logs2018-08-15 04:28 am
Entry tags:
Amanda & Jean-Paul (backdated a bit)
Jetlag finds Jean-Paul in Topaz's kitchen. Amanda turns up a few moments later and gives him an update on the past month's events.
Squinting judgmentally at the interior of Topaz's refrigerator, Jean-Paul made a mental note to buy her more actual food... mostly because he was going to be stealing her couch for a little while longer, since his own suite was so strangely empty with Kitty gone to Chicago. It was odd, having no dishes in the bathtub to complain about. He wasn't sure he liked it.
Which was why he'd stolen Topaz's couch to begin with. Now he was staying purely to make sure she had more than tea and whatever sad thing she could make with the current contents of her fridge. Mumbling to himself, Quebecois curses falling out of his mouth like feathers, Jean-Paul opened the freezer hoping to find something more palatable. He found... vegetarian frozen dinners.
Warily, he checked the sodium content in one of them and wrinkled his nose. "Mon Dieu, no," he said, shoving the box back into the freezer. He needed coffee for this, even if his horrible jet lag was his own fault. And it was early enough to be considered late, which meant he felt no guilt for reaching for some of the Hennessy XO Cognac he'd purchased while in France. Perhaps he should be savoring the liquor more than he intended to in a cup of coffee, but he could worry about that later.
There was the sound of a door opening and someone groaning in a feminine register. "Look what the cat dragged in," came a British accent, but the voice was most definitely not Topaz. Amanda stood in the suite's living room, one eyebrow raised as she watched the Quebecois raiding the kitchen. She was paler than her usual English-ness, and sticking plasters could be seen on the skin exposed by the men's boxers and baggy t-shirt she was wearing. The t-shirt was a Ramones tour shirt, faded dark grey from many washings and the logo almost invisible. "Welcome back to the madhouse."
"Eh," Jean-Paul said, eyes moving from Amanda's bedhead to her bare toes as he took in her appearance. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "Has everyone decided it is time to stop attempting to defend themselves from..." He waved his hand in her general direction. "Whatever it is that did this? And also, where is the food that is edible, not frozen and requiring a microwave? You will not heal so well if you do not eat food that is not full of salt and chemicals."
Keeping her own voice low to avoid disturbing Topaz, Amanda nodded. "That's what I keep telling Topaz, which is why..." Here Amanda crossed to the external door and opened it, revealing a box of various fresh groceries."...I arranged for delivery. Neither of us is that mobile right now." She nudged the box with her toe and gave him a meaningful look. "As for all this, I can explain, but only after coffee." She considered it. "Lots of coffee."
"I am putting very good Cognac in my coffee," Jean-Paul whispered, gravity in his tone as he gestured toward the bottle. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the cause of 'all this.' Not at all. "Would you like some with yours also?" He'd already moved to pick up the box, rooting through it to see what was there that he could use to make an actual breakfast.
Amanda's eyes grew round. "Mate, I've been in this medical recovery gulag for a couple of weeks. I would kill for a beer. A very good Cognac might just save the mansion from a murder spree," she replied, although the corners of her mouth twitched.
"I am happy to help to avoid the spree," Jean-Paul said, moving to the carafe to pour out two mugs. He left a great deal of space between the rim of the cups and the actual coffee, filling it with Cognac a moment later. "This is the benefit to American need for things to always be very large. There is more than enough space for liquor in a serving of coffee."
"Sir, you are god among men," Amanda said as she sat at the counter and accepted the steaming mug, wrapping both hands around it as she inhaled the steam. Good coffee and good cognac. Heaven. "Topaz has good taste in friends. Which is good, 'cause she needs them right now." She sipped at the coffee and closed her eyes, making a content sound; short-lived as she opened her eyes again to meet Jean-Paul's. "Did Topaz ever tell you about her dad? How she wound up here?"
"No," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head as he pulled fresh mushrooms, tomatoes, and spinach from the box she'd had delivered. There were eggs, butter, and cheese in the refrigerator, at least. He could make passable omelettes with these things. "It is not something we talk about so much. It is not a happy thing. This is what you mean?"
Amanda sighed. These sorts of situations were so much easier when people knew the backstory. "Pretty much, yeah. Long story short, there's this family of magic users after Topaz and her dad, and to try and get to her, they were cursing random people at the mansion. I got ambushed when I went to meet a contact and this happened." She gestured at herself. "Topaz did the stupid heroic thing and gave herself up so they'd stop hurting people. They had her for a few days, but that was enough to mess with her head. She's still getting over that."
"Oui," Jean-Paul nodded. That didn't seem like the kind of thing someone could get over easily. "That does seem like a thing she would do, also. You would not think it to meet her at first." He rolled his eyes. Ugh, the nag. She would give herself to an evil group of people to save others. "There is more? Or the terrible family only?"
"Well, there was the torture. While they had her, the Destines had their fun. Same bloke who did this to me, mostly. She hasn't talked a lot about it, but she's been having sessions with the Prof - Professor Xavier, that is." Amanda sighed again and sipped at her coffee. "She's stubborn, tho'. And she has this thing about it all being her fault so she doesn't ask for help. I moved in temporarily to keep an eye on her, tho' I didn't phrase it like that."
"Merci," Jean-Paul said, giving Amanda a small salute with his own cup of coffee. "I can see why she would say it is all her fault, but then I think she does not often understand that to blame herself for these things it is... what is the word? Victim-blaming? Oui. She did not choose to have these things done to her or those around her. Other people made this choice for her. Because there are terrible people in the world and they will always do terrible things for their own benefit or gain." He paused briefly, sipped from his cup, and then asked, "Is there anything you do not like particularly in your omelettes?"
"See, this is why it's good you're around. She needs another sensible friend to poke her when she's doing that," Amanda said approvingly, before considering the question. "Basically if it's food, I'm good. I've been told often enough I have no palate from years of curries, so I trust your judgement."
"I would tell her these things often, but we do not tend to speak so much about them. I do not tell her about why I no longer ski, she does not tell me about being tortured. We call one another names and sit quietly and it is nice," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head as he began preparing the ingredients for the omelettes. "I think, though, I will tell her some of this now that I know. It will do some good, perhaps. Or she will be angry with me and I will go back to worrying about classes at the end of the month."
The witch nodded and shrugged. "Whatever works with you two as mates," she replied. "As long as she knows she has people there for her who aren't going to disappear, no matter what she does."
Squinting judgmentally at the interior of Topaz's refrigerator, Jean-Paul made a mental note to buy her more actual food... mostly because he was going to be stealing her couch for a little while longer, since his own suite was so strangely empty with Kitty gone to Chicago. It was odd, having no dishes in the bathtub to complain about. He wasn't sure he liked it.
Which was why he'd stolen Topaz's couch to begin with. Now he was staying purely to make sure she had more than tea and whatever sad thing she could make with the current contents of her fridge. Mumbling to himself, Quebecois curses falling out of his mouth like feathers, Jean-Paul opened the freezer hoping to find something more palatable. He found... vegetarian frozen dinners.
Warily, he checked the sodium content in one of them and wrinkled his nose. "Mon Dieu, no," he said, shoving the box back into the freezer. He needed coffee for this, even if his horrible jet lag was his own fault. And it was early enough to be considered late, which meant he felt no guilt for reaching for some of the Hennessy XO Cognac he'd purchased while in France. Perhaps he should be savoring the liquor more than he intended to in a cup of coffee, but he could worry about that later.
There was the sound of a door opening and someone groaning in a feminine register. "Look what the cat dragged in," came a British accent, but the voice was most definitely not Topaz. Amanda stood in the suite's living room, one eyebrow raised as she watched the Quebecois raiding the kitchen. She was paler than her usual English-ness, and sticking plasters could be seen on the skin exposed by the men's boxers and baggy t-shirt she was wearing. The t-shirt was a Ramones tour shirt, faded dark grey from many washings and the logo almost invisible. "Welcome back to the madhouse."
"Eh," Jean-Paul said, eyes moving from Amanda's bedhead to her bare toes as he took in her appearance. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "Has everyone decided it is time to stop attempting to defend themselves from..." He waved his hand in her general direction. "Whatever it is that did this? And also, where is the food that is edible, not frozen and requiring a microwave? You will not heal so well if you do not eat food that is not full of salt and chemicals."
Keeping her own voice low to avoid disturbing Topaz, Amanda nodded. "That's what I keep telling Topaz, which is why..." Here Amanda crossed to the external door and opened it, revealing a box of various fresh groceries."...I arranged for delivery. Neither of us is that mobile right now." She nudged the box with her toe and gave him a meaningful look. "As for all this, I can explain, but only after coffee." She considered it. "Lots of coffee."
"I am putting very good Cognac in my coffee," Jean-Paul whispered, gravity in his tone as he gestured toward the bottle. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the cause of 'all this.' Not at all. "Would you like some with yours also?" He'd already moved to pick up the box, rooting through it to see what was there that he could use to make an actual breakfast.
Amanda's eyes grew round. "Mate, I've been in this medical recovery gulag for a couple of weeks. I would kill for a beer. A very good Cognac might just save the mansion from a murder spree," she replied, although the corners of her mouth twitched.
"I am happy to help to avoid the spree," Jean-Paul said, moving to the carafe to pour out two mugs. He left a great deal of space between the rim of the cups and the actual coffee, filling it with Cognac a moment later. "This is the benefit to American need for things to always be very large. There is more than enough space for liquor in a serving of coffee."
"Sir, you are god among men," Amanda said as she sat at the counter and accepted the steaming mug, wrapping both hands around it as she inhaled the steam. Good coffee and good cognac. Heaven. "Topaz has good taste in friends. Which is good, 'cause she needs them right now." She sipped at the coffee and closed her eyes, making a content sound; short-lived as she opened her eyes again to meet Jean-Paul's. "Did Topaz ever tell you about her dad? How she wound up here?"
"No," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head as he pulled fresh mushrooms, tomatoes, and spinach from the box she'd had delivered. There were eggs, butter, and cheese in the refrigerator, at least. He could make passable omelettes with these things. "It is not something we talk about so much. It is not a happy thing. This is what you mean?"
Amanda sighed. These sorts of situations were so much easier when people knew the backstory. "Pretty much, yeah. Long story short, there's this family of magic users after Topaz and her dad, and to try and get to her, they were cursing random people at the mansion. I got ambushed when I went to meet a contact and this happened." She gestured at herself. "Topaz did the stupid heroic thing and gave herself up so they'd stop hurting people. They had her for a few days, but that was enough to mess with her head. She's still getting over that."
"Oui," Jean-Paul nodded. That didn't seem like the kind of thing someone could get over easily. "That does seem like a thing she would do, also. You would not think it to meet her at first." He rolled his eyes. Ugh, the nag. She would give herself to an evil group of people to save others. "There is more? Or the terrible family only?"
"Well, there was the torture. While they had her, the Destines had their fun. Same bloke who did this to me, mostly. She hasn't talked a lot about it, but she's been having sessions with the Prof - Professor Xavier, that is." Amanda sighed again and sipped at her coffee. "She's stubborn, tho'. And she has this thing about it all being her fault so she doesn't ask for help. I moved in temporarily to keep an eye on her, tho' I didn't phrase it like that."
"Merci," Jean-Paul said, giving Amanda a small salute with his own cup of coffee. "I can see why she would say it is all her fault, but then I think she does not often understand that to blame herself for these things it is... what is the word? Victim-blaming? Oui. She did not choose to have these things done to her or those around her. Other people made this choice for her. Because there are terrible people in the world and they will always do terrible things for their own benefit or gain." He paused briefly, sipped from his cup, and then asked, "Is there anything you do not like particularly in your omelettes?"
"See, this is why it's good you're around. She needs another sensible friend to poke her when she's doing that," Amanda said approvingly, before considering the question. "Basically if it's food, I'm good. I've been told often enough I have no palate from years of curries, so I trust your judgement."
"I would tell her these things often, but we do not tend to speak so much about them. I do not tell her about why I no longer ski, she does not tell me about being tortured. We call one another names and sit quietly and it is nice," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head as he began preparing the ingredients for the omelettes. "I think, though, I will tell her some of this now that I know. It will do some good, perhaps. Or she will be angry with me and I will go back to worrying about classes at the end of the month."
The witch nodded and shrugged. "Whatever works with you two as mates," she replied. "As long as she knows she has people there for her who aren't going to disappear, no matter what she does."
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