xp_logs | [Northstar, Jetstream] Can't resist a challenge.

Haroun comes to find the negligent layabout to discuss the flight class they'll be teaching together. Things take a turn for the better, though, and all goes well.

Another sunny day. Bliss. Of course, it was a little on the cool side, but it was always on the cool side up north, so Paul wasn't going to complain. Delphine had romped off to harass the flowerbeds and Paul was sprawled bonelessly in the sunshine by the pool, trying not to worry about tanlines and such inconsequentialities. He should have brought his watch so he'd know when to turn over. Someone would come by who had one, he was sure.

Haroun had a watch, but more to the point he had large degrees of irritation. He walked out by the pool, eyeing the water warily, but more interested by far in the sprawled slender man who was more intent on basking in the sunshine than on answering his email. "You would be Jean-Paul, yes?" he asked with some irritation. "I have been looking for you all day."

Paul opened one eye slowly to see who the owner of the lovely accent was -- they were blocking his sun, but that could be forgiven. "I've been busy," he said mildly. Hn. He'd consider forgiveness. Those were nice cheekbones. "What can I do for you?"

Haroun squatted down next to Paul effortlessly. "My name is Haroun al-Rashid. I'm apparently going to be co-teaching the Flight class with you. I wanted to touch base with you to talk about the class and how it should be taught, but if you'd rather sunbathe, I can teach the class alone." he said irritably.

Paul rolled over on his side to face Haroun and rested his cheek in the palm of his hand, propping himself up a little. "Not at all," he said pleasantly. "There'll be other sunny days. I had no idea I was teaching a Flight class." He smiled and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head.

Haroun ahhed. "I think I see where the problem is. Communications foulup. Do you want to teach a Flight class? Apparently Guthrie smacked into a _mountain_ the other day while out on a mission. I'd say there's a rather screaming need for one here."

"I'd love to. Maybe they'll let me out of that execrable French class." He looked a little hopeful. "Guthrie... ah, the older brother, right?"

Haroun nodded. "Samuel, yes." he agreed. "He needs a lot of work with his power. He's luckily he's invulnerable while flying, otherwise he'd have died a long time ago." And there's not a _hint_ of bitterness in his voice, no siree Bob! Not a trace.

"Interesting." Paul sat up, crossing his legs lotus-style, biting his lip pensively. "I was out with Yoshida Shiro the other day. He's nowhere near his potential. I'd mapped out a few long routes but haven't had a chance to clear them with the senior staff here. The boy needs room to stretch."

"I don't know him - I suppose I should go introduce myself, get my own feel for how good of a flyer he is. Then we can compare notes. Other than this Shiro kid and Sam, and Warren, do we have any other fliers we need to worry about?"

Paul frowned, thinking. "I think that might be it for our fliers. Worthington used to teach the course, but given what I saw from Shiro, I'd like to see him pushed because I don't know if he's been put to his full potential either. It sounds like Sam's going to be a handful on his own. I've got some experience with energy manipulation, myself, but concussive bursts aren't what I use for propulsion."

"Sam and I are chemokinetic flyers. Worthington's got wings, and Shiro's some kind of an energy projector. I'll take Sam, you take Shiro, and we'll collaborate with Worthington, since he has the most experience. He can be it." Haroun said with some satisfaction. "Sound acceptable to you?"

"I'm easy," Paul said, and he smiled a little crookedly at that. "I don't want to lose my edge in the air. It sounds like a good arrangement, as long as we get to push the envelope once in a while."

"I plan on pushing the envelope until it begs for mercy. Sam's indestructible, but I can't say the same for whatever he collides _with_. Control and fine-tuning his ability to maneuver are Priority #1. Speed will come later. How maneuverable is Shiro? For that matter, how maneuverable are _you_?" he asked with a white-toothed grin.

"Shiro's more maneuverable than he is fast. He's fairly agile, from what I can tell, but he's lacking in any sort of confidence or initiative, really. I don't know why he seems hesitant to push. Maybe I'm being over-critical but I get the sense that he's holding back." Paul returned Haroun's grin. "And as for me, well, they say some people can turn on a dime. I can do that and give back nine and a half cents in change."

"Impressive." he says. "I'd almost like to see that. Do I get my chance in cents or in French coinage?" he asked with a smirk. "Your accent could be provincial French, or more likely, Quebecois."

"Quebecois," Paul said, pleased. "You have a good ear, I'm flattered that you think I could be French, though. I was raised in one of the less civil parts of Canada. I've tried to polish up in the last ten years or so. And you may have your change in any currency you like, if I break a sweat playing with you. I'm a worldly sort of person that way."

Haroun just _grinned_. "Unless I am very much mistaken, that almost sounds like a challenge. Are you challenging me? I should warn you, I have an advantage." he said. "And I'm Moroccan. We were occupied by the French for a long time, French accents aren't uncommon."

"Call it a friendly challenge." Paul's blue eyes were bright. "If you have an advantage, all the better. I miss the chase. Racing myself gets terribly dull after a while." He tilted his head and gave Haroun a mischevious smile.

"Well then. Speed trials will have to wait - I don't fancy going blind in one eye because I flew through a gnat swarm. Name me a course, I'll see if I can fly it for you. Say, around the pool, straight up three hundred feet, and then a perfect 180 dive, stopping one inch before ground level? Think you can do that?" he said with a smirk.

"Promise to hose the deck down if I can't?" Paul unfolded his legs and stood up in front of Haroun, stretching languidly and smiling lazily at him.

"Oh ho, a betting man! You're on, as Allah is my witness. Shall I go first?" he said, keeping his smirk.

"Please. I'd love to see what you've got." Paul gestured to the sky above and stepped aside.

Haroun stood up, then eyed the sky and the grounds around the pool. "This might get a little loud." he said by way of explanation, then his body shuddered a bit as a backpack _grew_ from his back. Then, with a roar, Haroun lifted off the ground flawlessly and streaked around the pool. His cornering was very tight, his body practically jackknifing around the turning points. The turn towards the sky wasn't so much of a turn as a roll and bend skywards He ascended into the sky like a rocket, then at precisely three hundred feet, his power died for a second, then roared back to life as he flipped over and dove towards the ground. Still head-down, he stopped an inch before the ground with a roar of chemokinetic flame, then flipped his body around to land on his feet. "There." he said, letting the chemokinetic flames die and the backpack reabsorb into his flesh. "Your turn."

Paul watched him fly, frowning a little at the noise and the light. Fascinating. "So it is." He tossed his sunglasses aside and stepped forward, closing his eyes for a moment to feel the wind and to fix distances and patterns in his mind. Then he gathered himself, having set things in place mentally, and was gone. He made no noise but the hush of the air closing over where he'd been. His hand almost brushed the concrete at the corners of the pool where he redirected himself sharply at the new angle and then, at the right place, he was simply gone into the blue. He dove back down and flipped over only a dozen feet from the ground, stopping and straightening at once, toes just off the patio. "Challenging," he said lightly, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair.

Haroun tried very, very hard to keep his jaw off the ground. "I don't think I've ever seen grace and form like that. You win." he admitted cheerfully. "If you'll show me where they hide the pool-cleaning supplies, I'll live up to my end this evening sometime. Water and I don't mix very well unless I take precautions."

Paul laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I only wanted you to clean the deck if I splattered myself all over it. Join me for dinner instead?"

"I can do that as well. I should warn you, I keep halal most of the time." he said with a smile. "Will that be a problem?"

"I'm vegan," Paul said with a charmingly apologetic smile. "I don't eat or prepare any meat at all. Will that be a problem?"

"To each their own." he said with a smile. "Do you enjoy couscous?" he asked with a smile, gesturing towards the patio doors that led back into the Mansion. "And do you want to get cleaned up and change, or is this an as-is sort of a deal?"

Paul scooped up his sunglasses and water and towel. "I love couscous. I haven't been to the East for years but I do a passable imitation of the real thing if you're in the mood. I have the ingredients." Paul looked down at himself, he was wearing only a pair of swimtrunks and a very good tan. "If you like me as I am, I'm fine with staying as-is. If you'd be more comfortable with a change, just say so."

"Doesn't bother me any." he said with a smile. "Don't have to have the hormone rod changed for another few months. And I'd love some real couscous. I wonder if Lorna's still here, and if she still cooks. That woman can do amazing things with couscous. I think she has North African blood in her." he said, opening the door for Paul.

"Perfect," Paul said blithely, waltzing through the door ahead of Haroun. He looked back over his shoulder at the other man. "Lorna's definitely around. I don't know what blood she's got in her, but she's a genius in the kitchen. You keep halal, does that include avoiding alcohol?"

"It does, although my spirit is often weak." he said with a mock-mournful look on his face, following Paul into the Mansion. "Allah will have to forgive me in the goodness of time."

Paul laughed. "Wine then? I think I have just the right bottle for the occasion. Maybe he'll forgive me for corrupting you as well..."

Haroun smirked, then schooled his expression into a mournful look. "Allah forgive me, for I have fallin in with sinful and wicked men who tempt the Faithful." he said towards the ceiling, then he grinned at Paul. "It would be rude of me to decline."