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xp_logsLate night? Early morning? Why not both? Jean-Phillipe is up too early, Marie-Ange has been out very late getting up to mischief...
It was that nebulous hour of the day, the fuzzy border between 'up too late' and 'up too early', depending on which side of a night's sleep you were seeing it from. In Jean-Phillipe's case, it was 'up too early', rummaging in the main kitchen because nothing in his and Angelo's kitchenette was appealing to his taste buds at the moment. He wasn't sure what it was he wanted, but he'd narrowed about twenty things that he didn't want at this point, and he stared at the contents of a refrigerator hoping it would magically dispense inspiration.
The kitchen door only made the quietest swish as it opened on well maintained hinges. Marie-Ange came into the kitchen, and leaned tiredly on the wall for a moment before setting a clinking backpack down on one of the counters. "If you find nothing, we can go get midnight brunch." She had no illusions - she moved quietly, but her cousin's situational awareness was usually high. He knew she was there.
"It is well after midnight, cousin." Pedantic, but delivered playfully. "I would not say no to brunch, but what were you doing out so late?" Jean-Phillipe was well aware of Marie-Ange's insomnia, but even then she was usually not out of the mansion this late. "Should you not be in bed with your witch in the witching hour?"
"I had a project." She patted the backpack with a paint-stained hand. "I do appreciate the witching hour joke, but my witch is busy talking to London and letting her city complain about all of the upcoming coronation nonsense, so I took the free time to enact protest art." Marie-Ange paused. "Midnight brunch is not always at midnight. It can be at three am, or eleven at night, but I think not before eleven and not after four."
Jean-Phillipe couldn't quite stop a giggle at the discussion of 'coronation nonsense'. "Did you see that King Charles is having to postpone his state visit to France because of protest violence? Apparently we are in the 1600s once more." Thank goodness that was not actually the case, or they both would have been burned at the stake long ago. "A project..." He pondered the clinking noise and realized he knew it. "Cousin, were you out tagging things and you did not invite me? I am crushed." His tone of voice said he was not actually crushed, just about a two on the 'I missed out' scale.
"Protest art. I tagged nothing." Marie-Ange opened the backpack to show a full spectrum of spraypaint cans. "Every day I have to see that offensive cow billboard. In the morning it will be more appealing to look at." She zipped the pack back up. "It is not tagging when one simply replaces all the black spots on the cow with rainbow coloured ones. It may technically be tagging if one also replaces the fil-a with fil-gay, but that was a printed latex sheet and very strong adhesive, not paint."
"Protest..." The penny dropped as Jean-Phillipe realized exactly which billboard Marie-Ange had been defacing. "See, now I am doubly wishing you had taken me with you," he told her. "At the very least I could have stood lookout for you, if not done a bit of defacing of my own." His opinion on the 'chicken homophobes' was well established at this point.
Marie-Ange tilted her head, clearly pondering a response. "I was going to suggest that you might be in more danger and I have experience with this, but I am not sure I want to hear your voice crack when you remind me you were a member of a terrorist organization." She pointed at her cousin. "I know, you left, you have long since made up for it. I promise, the next time I do vandalism, you can come along and then we will get midnight brunch. You can have a spite egg."
Jean-Phillipe waggled his shoulders, as if he were a bird about to ruffle and flare its plumage. "I still have the poster." Despite it being from the universe before Xorn's patching together, he was glad that that particular piece of memorabilia had stuck around. Every so often he still managed to surprise and shock mansion residents with it, generally the more recent ones. He liked to think it lent him a rakish sort of air - and if it didn't, he hoped that people would have the good grace to leave him his illusions. He sighed at the mention of the egg. "Gibney brings out my competitive streak."
"Well, he is a morning person." As though that explained everything about the other man. "And I know. You let me put it on archive matting and in a good UV protective frame. It is a good poster." Marie-Ange paused. "Do you want to carpool tomorrow so you and Angelo can see the billboard? I can go in late, Amanda will be working from here because of London."
"I would like that very much." Surprising Angelo with it, and his probable reaction, gave Jean-Phillipe a bit of amusement to counter the sting of not getting to be there when the piece was being created. "You realize, of course, that the next time he is going to want to join?" You could send the boy from the barrio to law school, but some pieces of the barrio would always remain. It was one of the things Jean-Phillipe loved about his husband, though, that mix of the street in amongst the many other things Angelo was.
Marie-Ange laughed, the real one where her nose scrunched up. "There are so many billboards. He can help us climb to the tall ones." Better than the portable ladder she'd used, probably easier on her hands. "No sex on the billboard. We go in, we do vandalism, we get out."
Jean-Phillipe snorted. "I think I would be too busy worrying about falling off to enjoy sex on a billboard. But I reserve the right for some intense kissing with my husband." He imagined Marie-Ange would do the same if Amanda were to come along.
"I think this is a good plan. In the meantime, midnight brunch?"
Jean-Phillipe was already pulling eggs and cheese out of the refrigerator. "You do not have to tell me twice, cousin." He already knew he would handle the cooking, as there were only a few things Marie-Ange could reliably cook. She certainly had the advantage on him when it came to knowing the best takeout spots, though.
It was that nebulous hour of the day, the fuzzy border between 'up too late' and 'up too early', depending on which side of a night's sleep you were seeing it from. In Jean-Phillipe's case, it was 'up too early', rummaging in the main kitchen because nothing in his and Angelo's kitchenette was appealing to his taste buds at the moment. He wasn't sure what it was he wanted, but he'd narrowed about twenty things that he didn't want at this point, and he stared at the contents of a refrigerator hoping it would magically dispense inspiration.
The kitchen door only made the quietest swish as it opened on well maintained hinges. Marie-Ange came into the kitchen, and leaned tiredly on the wall for a moment before setting a clinking backpack down on one of the counters. "If you find nothing, we can go get midnight brunch." She had no illusions - she moved quietly, but her cousin's situational awareness was usually high. He knew she was there.
"It is well after midnight, cousin." Pedantic, but delivered playfully. "I would not say no to brunch, but what were you doing out so late?" Jean-Phillipe was well aware of Marie-Ange's insomnia, but even then she was usually not out of the mansion this late. "Should you not be in bed with your witch in the witching hour?"
"I had a project." She patted the backpack with a paint-stained hand. "I do appreciate the witching hour joke, but my witch is busy talking to London and letting her city complain about all of the upcoming coronation nonsense, so I took the free time to enact protest art." Marie-Ange paused. "Midnight brunch is not always at midnight. It can be at three am, or eleven at night, but I think not before eleven and not after four."
Jean-Phillipe couldn't quite stop a giggle at the discussion of 'coronation nonsense'. "Did you see that King Charles is having to postpone his state visit to France because of protest violence? Apparently we are in the 1600s once more." Thank goodness that was not actually the case, or they both would have been burned at the stake long ago. "A project..." He pondered the clinking noise and realized he knew it. "Cousin, were you out tagging things and you did not invite me? I am crushed." His tone of voice said he was not actually crushed, just about a two on the 'I missed out' scale.
"Protest art. I tagged nothing." Marie-Ange opened the backpack to show a full spectrum of spraypaint cans. "Every day I have to see that offensive cow billboard. In the morning it will be more appealing to look at." She zipped the pack back up. "It is not tagging when one simply replaces all the black spots on the cow with rainbow coloured ones. It may technically be tagging if one also replaces the fil-a with fil-gay, but that was a printed latex sheet and very strong adhesive, not paint."
"Protest..." The penny dropped as Jean-Phillipe realized exactly which billboard Marie-Ange had been defacing. "See, now I am doubly wishing you had taken me with you," he told her. "At the very least I could have stood lookout for you, if not done a bit of defacing of my own." His opinion on the 'chicken homophobes' was well established at this point.
Marie-Ange tilted her head, clearly pondering a response. "I was going to suggest that you might be in more danger and I have experience with this, but I am not sure I want to hear your voice crack when you remind me you were a member of a terrorist organization." She pointed at her cousin. "I know, you left, you have long since made up for it. I promise, the next time I do vandalism, you can come along and then we will get midnight brunch. You can have a spite egg."
Jean-Phillipe waggled his shoulders, as if he were a bird about to ruffle and flare its plumage. "I still have the poster." Despite it being from the universe before Xorn's patching together, he was glad that that particular piece of memorabilia had stuck around. Every so often he still managed to surprise and shock mansion residents with it, generally the more recent ones. He liked to think it lent him a rakish sort of air - and if it didn't, he hoped that people would have the good grace to leave him his illusions. He sighed at the mention of the egg. "Gibney brings out my competitive streak."
"Well, he is a morning person." As though that explained everything about the other man. "And I know. You let me put it on archive matting and in a good UV protective frame. It is a good poster." Marie-Ange paused. "Do you want to carpool tomorrow so you and Angelo can see the billboard? I can go in late, Amanda will be working from here because of London."
"I would like that very much." Surprising Angelo with it, and his probable reaction, gave Jean-Phillipe a bit of amusement to counter the sting of not getting to be there when the piece was being created. "You realize, of course, that the next time he is going to want to join?" You could send the boy from the barrio to law school, but some pieces of the barrio would always remain. It was one of the things Jean-Phillipe loved about his husband, though, that mix of the street in amongst the many other things Angelo was.
Marie-Ange laughed, the real one where her nose scrunched up. "There are so many billboards. He can help us climb to the tall ones." Better than the portable ladder she'd used, probably easier on her hands. "No sex on the billboard. We go in, we do vandalism, we get out."
Jean-Phillipe snorted. "I think I would be too busy worrying about falling off to enjoy sex on a billboard. But I reserve the right for some intense kissing with my husband." He imagined Marie-Ange would do the same if Amanda were to come along.
"I think this is a good plan. In the meantime, midnight brunch?"
Jean-Phillipe was already pulling eggs and cheese out of the refrigerator. "You do not have to tell me twice, cousin." He already knew he would handle the cooking, as there were only a few things Marie-Ange could reliably cook. She certainly had the advantage on him when it came to knowing the best takeout spots, though.
