Marie-Ange and Jean-Phillipe
Apr. 20th, 2018 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThe Colbert cousins bond in the way they always do, with Marie-Ange bringing food to Jean-Phillipe. Unlike every other time, they talk about the past, and apologize to each other.
The brightly colored pamphlets tucked under Marie-Ange's arm were slipping.
The cardboard box of food containers and insulated bag of wine bottles in her arms did not help her contain the pamphlets at all. Nor did the little paper bag with the distinct logo of a popular hair-and-skin-care company that dangled off her wrist.
Their glossy paper had no purchase against her blouse, and kept sliding against each other. She had left a few behind in her path between the garage and the door she was tapping her foot against.
Jean-Phillipe had been spending most of his time recuperating on the couch, trying not to shock anything (including his fiance), and generally cursing the ocean, sea life, and magic in a more-or-less constant litany. The muttering in French continued as he levered himself up to standing and shuffled over toward the door. "~Why can you not open the door your damn self...~" He trailed off as he opened it to find his cousin, arms laden. "Ah. Cousin," he greeted her, then perked up noticeably when the smells from her bags hit his nose. "Is that Mongolian beef?"
"Oui, and chicken with basil, and pork buns, and fried rice, I think with cashew nuts." Marie-Ange shifted her arm to nudge the box in her cousin's general direction. Once he had taken the box and placed it on his kitchen counter, she bent and picked up the pair of pamphlets at her feet, and thrust those two and the rest from under her arm in his direction. "Cousin, perhaps you already know, but in New York, in America, there is a man, Professor Charles Xavier. He runs a safe place for people with strange abilities to learn about them. He, and I, believe you may have one of those abilities."
Jean-Phillipe would swear that she had waited until the precise moment that he lifted the smoothie that had been forced on him by Laurie to his mouth. He choked and coughed on the mouthful he'd just taken in an attempt not to spew it on his cousin and her bags of food. "You are a horrible person," he informed her.
The pamphlets were followed by a stiff paper folder, with the unmistakable shape of two boarding passes sticking out. "Non, I am a patient and generous cousin who had a very awkward conversation with one of our resident medical staff regarding your adventures and an uncontrollable powers incident." Marie-Ange managed to look embarrassed, somehow. "It is possible that there was a conversation asking if I knew if you had needed medical treatment when you manifested, and, ah." She pushed the paper folder at her cousin. "I had to admit I did not know, because I was quite a snob about the whole thing."
Jean-Phillipe blinked rapidly. That was not something he had expected from his cousin, and the sudden validation of years of difficulty resulted in a complex blend of emotions. "Merci," he said roughly. "For the food and the rest." He shrugged and turned to set the bags on the kitchenette counters, to have something to do with his hands. "For the sake of honesty, I am certain that I could have been less...militant, myself."
"Perhaps. But, you will let me apologize and spend my money on you, and if you feel you also must apologize, you can buy me a dinner. I have more money than you." Marie-Ange waved the paper folder at her cousin insistently, but tucked the "Xavier's Institute" pamphlets back under her arm. "Did you need treatment? I was not sure, but I know you have those scars, and you do not like to show them."
"Non." Jean-Phillipe rubbed at his arms. "The existing ones are...a bit raw, but nothing new. And...thank you, cousin. Are those plane tickets to anywhere in particular?" The solicitousness and generosity was a new thing. And he had not immediately assumed the worst motivation behind it. Perhaps this was what maturity was.
"Vouchers. So nowhere at all in particular. Enough for two first class flights to anywhere you and Angelo want to honeymoon." Marie-Ange said, as her cousin flipped through the paper folder. "Was it bad, before? I.. " She paused for thought. "I realized I really do not know anything about how you found your powers, just where they took you, and how much of that was my doing, putting you off this place at first."
"At least some of it was my own...combativeness," Jean-Phillipe admitted. "It was...not easy." His eyes gazed off, focused on nothing except the past. "The electricity caused a chemical fire at the docks where I was working." There had been panic, and pain. "But I managed. And then Erik found me."
"Of all the people to get to say I should have foreseen that." Marie-Ange started. "But. Oddly, I did not, which. I told Angelo I did readings for you but I am not certain it meant anything. I just like weddings."
Jean-Phillipe pursed his lips thoughtfully, remembering nights spent discussing mutant powers with Erik. "At times, when blood relatives develop mutant powers, those powers do not act...predictably with each other. Canceling each other out and the like." Not that he was going to suggest experimenting to see if his cousin was immune to his own electricity, but it could explain her precognitive blind spot where he was concerned.
"Oh, we should certainly experiment with this." He was not going to suggest it, but Marie-Ange knew that little tilt of her cousin's eyebrows enough to know that the idea had crossed his mind. "There is no chance I am immune to electricity, but we should book an appointment in the Danger Room. I would like to see how, ah, what is term for how much electricity my images could withstand? Conductive? Or resistant?"
"Impedance." He did not need to give his cousin the entire 'introduction to electrical theory' course that he had taken at university, Jean-Phillipe told himself. Erik had taught him much, but it had been largely practical and short on actual theory. "Which is the term that covers resistors, capacitors, and inductors, so." Marie-Ange was always the practical one, who did not care as much for the why of things, just that they worked.
"So we should test to see how much impedance my images have?" The word was unnecessarily awkward to say, but if her cousin was going to provide the correct terms, she would use them. Until it got boring. "Both versus your powers and versus, ah, I suppose a taser? It is not as though I could call Thor. Do we know anyone else who has electricity?"
"I would prefer not to have to deal with the god of booty calls, merci." Jean-Phillipe had not expected his cousin to be so interested in experimenting with their mutant powers and the limits thereof. That was more his thing, but it made for a warm familial feeling. "I believe Darcy has mentioned carrying a taser before."
"Well, no, you are to be married and Thor does not seem to be the type to have a threesome with you andAngelo." Marie-Ange retorted. "I believe Ms. Lewis has even used the taser on the god of, as you say, booty calls." It was difficult enough to say without snickering. "Perhaps Lorna? I do not know if she can do any of the electrical tricks her father can?"
"I am not sure." Jean-Phillipe pursed his lips and sucked air through them, then blew it out in a sigh. "We do not speak much about Erik." They both had quite a bit of complicated history with the man in their own ways, and it wasn't the sort of thing that lent itself to easy conversation.
"Well, I imagine we can make this happen without awkward conversations." Marie-Ange said. "Shall we go make an appointment in the hologram room that I never get to play with anymore? Can we make it look like a tropical beach and test our powers while drinking mai tais?"
"C'est bon," Jean-Phillipe agreed. "I could use a drink."
The brightly colored pamphlets tucked under Marie-Ange's arm were slipping.
The cardboard box of food containers and insulated bag of wine bottles in her arms did not help her contain the pamphlets at all. Nor did the little paper bag with the distinct logo of a popular hair-and-skin-care company that dangled off her wrist.
Their glossy paper had no purchase against her blouse, and kept sliding against each other. She had left a few behind in her path between the garage and the door she was tapping her foot against.
Jean-Phillipe had been spending most of his time recuperating on the couch, trying not to shock anything (including his fiance), and generally cursing the ocean, sea life, and magic in a more-or-less constant litany. The muttering in French continued as he levered himself up to standing and shuffled over toward the door. "~Why can you not open the door your damn self...~" He trailed off as he opened it to find his cousin, arms laden. "Ah. Cousin," he greeted her, then perked up noticeably when the smells from her bags hit his nose. "Is that Mongolian beef?"
"Oui, and chicken with basil, and pork buns, and fried rice, I think with cashew nuts." Marie-Ange shifted her arm to nudge the box in her cousin's general direction. Once he had taken the box and placed it on his kitchen counter, she bent and picked up the pair of pamphlets at her feet, and thrust those two and the rest from under her arm in his direction. "Cousin, perhaps you already know, but in New York, in America, there is a man, Professor Charles Xavier. He runs a safe place for people with strange abilities to learn about them. He, and I, believe you may have one of those abilities."
Jean-Phillipe would swear that she had waited until the precise moment that he lifted the smoothie that had been forced on him by Laurie to his mouth. He choked and coughed on the mouthful he'd just taken in an attempt not to spew it on his cousin and her bags of food. "You are a horrible person," he informed her.
The pamphlets were followed by a stiff paper folder, with the unmistakable shape of two boarding passes sticking out. "Non, I am a patient and generous cousin who had a very awkward conversation with one of our resident medical staff regarding your adventures and an uncontrollable powers incident." Marie-Ange managed to look embarrassed, somehow. "It is possible that there was a conversation asking if I knew if you had needed medical treatment when you manifested, and, ah." She pushed the paper folder at her cousin. "I had to admit I did not know, because I was quite a snob about the whole thing."
Jean-Phillipe blinked rapidly. That was not something he had expected from his cousin, and the sudden validation of years of difficulty resulted in a complex blend of emotions. "Merci," he said roughly. "For the food and the rest." He shrugged and turned to set the bags on the kitchenette counters, to have something to do with his hands. "For the sake of honesty, I am certain that I could have been less...militant, myself."
"Perhaps. But, you will let me apologize and spend my money on you, and if you feel you also must apologize, you can buy me a dinner. I have more money than you." Marie-Ange waved the paper folder at her cousin insistently, but tucked the "Xavier's Institute" pamphlets back under her arm. "Did you need treatment? I was not sure, but I know you have those scars, and you do not like to show them."
"Non." Jean-Phillipe rubbed at his arms. "The existing ones are...a bit raw, but nothing new. And...thank you, cousin. Are those plane tickets to anywhere in particular?" The solicitousness and generosity was a new thing. And he had not immediately assumed the worst motivation behind it. Perhaps this was what maturity was.
"Vouchers. So nowhere at all in particular. Enough for two first class flights to anywhere you and Angelo want to honeymoon." Marie-Ange said, as her cousin flipped through the paper folder. "Was it bad, before? I.. " She paused for thought. "I realized I really do not know anything about how you found your powers, just where they took you, and how much of that was my doing, putting you off this place at first."
"At least some of it was my own...combativeness," Jean-Phillipe admitted. "It was...not easy." His eyes gazed off, focused on nothing except the past. "The electricity caused a chemical fire at the docks where I was working." There had been panic, and pain. "But I managed. And then Erik found me."
"Of all the people to get to say I should have foreseen that." Marie-Ange started. "But. Oddly, I did not, which. I told Angelo I did readings for you but I am not certain it meant anything. I just like weddings."
Jean-Phillipe pursed his lips thoughtfully, remembering nights spent discussing mutant powers with Erik. "At times, when blood relatives develop mutant powers, those powers do not act...predictably with each other. Canceling each other out and the like." Not that he was going to suggest experimenting to see if his cousin was immune to his own electricity, but it could explain her precognitive blind spot where he was concerned.
"Oh, we should certainly experiment with this." He was not going to suggest it, but Marie-Ange knew that little tilt of her cousin's eyebrows enough to know that the idea had crossed his mind. "There is no chance I am immune to electricity, but we should book an appointment in the Danger Room. I would like to see how, ah, what is term for how much electricity my images could withstand? Conductive? Or resistant?"
"Impedance." He did not need to give his cousin the entire 'introduction to electrical theory' course that he had taken at university, Jean-Phillipe told himself. Erik had taught him much, but it had been largely practical and short on actual theory. "Which is the term that covers resistors, capacitors, and inductors, so." Marie-Ange was always the practical one, who did not care as much for the why of things, just that they worked.
"So we should test to see how much impedance my images have?" The word was unnecessarily awkward to say, but if her cousin was going to provide the correct terms, she would use them. Until it got boring. "Both versus your powers and versus, ah, I suppose a taser? It is not as though I could call Thor. Do we know anyone else who has electricity?"
"I would prefer not to have to deal with the god of booty calls, merci." Jean-Phillipe had not expected his cousin to be so interested in experimenting with their mutant powers and the limits thereof. That was more his thing, but it made for a warm familial feeling. "I believe Darcy has mentioned carrying a taser before."
"Well, no, you are to be married and Thor does not seem to be the type to have a threesome with you andAngelo." Marie-Ange retorted. "I believe Ms. Lewis has even used the taser on the god of, as you say, booty calls." It was difficult enough to say without snickering. "Perhaps Lorna? I do not know if she can do any of the electrical tricks her father can?"
"I am not sure." Jean-Phillipe pursed his lips and sucked air through them, then blew it out in a sigh. "We do not speak much about Erik." They both had quite a bit of complicated history with the man in their own ways, and it wasn't the sort of thing that lent itself to easy conversation.
"Well, I imagine we can make this happen without awkward conversations." Marie-Ange said. "Shall we go make an appointment in the hologram room that I never get to play with anymore? Can we make it look like a tropical beach and test our powers while drinking mai tais?"
"C'est bon," Jean-Phillipe agreed. "I could use a drink."
