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ax_main2017-08-29 11:12 am
ax_touchstone) wrote in ax_main2017-08-29 11:12 am
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Simon and Jean-Paul | Backdated to August 29th
Simon helps Jean-Paul with homework, then gets taken out to lunch. It goes terribly, and then not bad.
After struggling with algebra for almost an hour, Jean-Paul did the only thing that actually seemed to help. He threw the book across the room and glared at it before sulking back to his bed. If he could fall asleep for an hour or so, that sometimes actually helped organize his thoughts.
The problem was falling asleep when he was so frustrated that he wanted to break something.
Simon looked up when the book sailed across the room, a slight frown pulling at his brow. He'd been in the middle of reading a paper on a breakthrough in editing gene mutations in the embryo and hadn't paid much attention to his roommate until that point. From the small sectional sofa beneath his loft, he watched Jean-Paul sulk back to his bed, then pushed his laptop off to the side as he stood and searched out the book. "Algebra?"
"Yeah." Jean-Paul kept his back to Simon. "So?"
"So what exactly is the problem?" Simon asked, opening the book and flipping through the pages.
"If I knew that I could do something about it, couldn't I?" If he was being honest, Jean-Paul knew Simon didn't deserve to be snarled at. Even if they weren't friends, they'd at least been on almost-friendly terms since the night they'd sat up in the kitchen. But the idea of Simon, certified genius, being able to lord over his idiot roommate was not helping the desire to break things.
Simon eased off. Apparently, this was a learning deficiency, and he did, at least, understand that it was perhaps a sore spot. "What is your assignment?" He tried instead.
"Complete thirty problems for class tomorrow." And that seemed fucking impossible, even with superspeed.
"I meant - I meant, what types of problems..." Simon asserted, but wandered toward Jean-Paul's desk anyway.
Jean-Paul finally rolled over to look at him. "What are you doing?"
Simon glanced up. "I could help you."
Jean-Paul sat up, looking wary. "Why?"
"So you'll stop throwing books around our room?" Simon suggested.
Yeah, yeah. Fair point.
"Fine." Jean-Paul got up and headed over to the desk. "If you think you can slow down to my speed."
"I think I can find it in myself to return to the basics, yes," Simon told him wryly. "What part of it is tripping you up?"
------(Much later)------
The part that had been tripping Jean-Paul up had been relatively elementary equations, but working with Jean-Paul on thirty of them had almost been the equivalent of pulling teeth. Two hours later, Jean-Paul was much less frustrated, at least, but Simon wanted to stab an eye out with his stylus.
The homework, at least, was done. As was the book-throwing, which was helpful. And, of course, Jean-Paul was no longer pouting.
Jean-Paul closed the book and stood. "Come on, let's get out of here. Otherwise you'll throttle me before I can thank you."
Simon blinked. "What is leaving supposed to accomplish?"
"It's hard for me to treat you if we stay here."
"Treat me?" Simon eyed him. "With more sandwiches?"
"If you want. Or we could catch a bus into town and actually go do something."
"Something?" Simon frowned.
"Yeah. Go out to eat. Find a bookstore. Something."
Simon rubbed at the back of his neck. That actually sounded amazing. Both of them did. In fact, he had a headache coming on which probably meant that he most definitely needed to eat. Either that, or that Jean-Paul was more of a pain in the ass than he'd ever suspected. "You aren't sick of dealing with me at this point?"
That earned him an unexpectedly light-hearted laugh. "Entirely. But that's not your fault. And I promise, I'll be over that as soon as we're down this stupidly long-ass drive."
Simon blinked, looking at him in surprise at the laugh. "Oh. Ah. I guess...that would be okay."
"Grab your coat and whatever else you want to bring, then, and let's go."
------(Later)------
For all his talk of getting out of the school, Jean-Paul spent most of their time out watching Simon. It wasn't that he seemed lost or anything, but he definitely didn't seem relaxed. Not during the walk or on the bus... but getting him into the bookstore was almost like watching a bird released back to the air. Simon had immediately taken point once they were inside the second-hand shop, and Jean-Paul had been willing to let him take the lead until growling stomachs had forced them both back out onto the street, looking for a place to eat.
Simon glanced up the street, searching signs, not seeing anything he really recognized besides fast food (and no thanks.) The whole outing had been odd for him. He wasn't used to being out in public with anyone besides his family. He hadn't had many friends as a child, and those that he'd had...well, he was usually too busy with his schoolwork to go out to book shops or restaurants on a whim. In fact, fencing practices and matches had probably been the most social he'd been in his life, which was probably why he felt so defensive on this outing with his roommate. Competition was everywhere, and he had a feeling that Jean-Paul had only suggested the outing so he could find some sort of weakness to exploit.
"What, uh, what kind of food do you usually enjoy?" he finally ventured.
"I'm not picky," Jean-Paul said. "Quality and quantity usually matter more to me than genre anymore. How about you? Anything we need to steer clear of?"
"I'm not terribly fond of fast food," Simon admitted. "Though I understand the need for quantity."
"That still leaves the world wide open for us." Jean-Paul hefted his bag of books and considered his phone for options. "OK, so within walking distance we have some kind of Greek place, Korean, a bistro, and some vegan joint."
"I could go for some jjajangmyeon," Simon said thoughtfully. "If you're willing to try Korean."
"I've had Korean before, oh worldly one," Jean-Paul said, a smirk on his lips. "But come on. It's about half a mile down this way."
"Right..." Simon experienced a moment of embarrassment, but followed his roommate down the idyllic small-town walkway. "Sorry."
"Why do you assume that no one else has exposure to any sort of culture?" Jean-Paul asked curiously. "Or is it just me?"
"Well, Warren of course," and Simon bit down on that. Pointing out the only other wealthy teen at the school hardly spoke to his character. "I mean, those that have experienced upscale urban-" and he bit down on that one too. Damnit.
Jean-Paul considered him. "Well, you're trying not to be a jerk, anyway."
Simon sighed heavily. "I don't have much experience with... well, other people, anyway."
"Other people who aren't rich, you mean?"
Getting to the restaurant required a quick dash to the opposite side of the street, but the brightly painted roof and cheerful animal characters on the windows certainly made the "Home of Seoul" look inviting (even if the name was something Bobby probably would have come up with).
"Even most people that are," Simon admitted as they crossed to the restaurant, the tangy smells already alighting his senses.
That got him a long, curious look that persisted even as they entered the restaurant and were seated.
"Any particular reason why? I mean, you're smart, you're good-looking... it's not like there's any reason you should have been locked away or anything."
Simon blinked at the comment about being good-looking. Of course, his mother had made plenty of comments about it before, when trying to force him into parties, but he'd never really heard it from someone else. "I've just...always been concentrated on work."
"And nothing but?" That was kind of sad. Especially since he hadn't had to.
"Fencing. Polo. Functions with my family," Simon told him, finding them a comfortable table in the back, with a window out onto the corner street.
"So this is your first real stab at a social life?"
Simon eyed him. "Are you rubbing it in?"
"I'm trying to get my head around it," Jean-Paul clarified. "I mean, it's not like it's sin or anything."
"Just odd," Simon suggested. "Yes. I know."
"You're in a good place to be odd." Jean-Paul pulled his menu close, then added, "Genetic or otherwise."
Simon had his hands on his menu when he sort of froze at what Jean-Paul had said. For two solid non-breaths, he panicked. Had Tamara said anything? Had Warren? It was just a snowball when a secret got out like that. Tell one person and within days, the entire school would know. His heart still hammering in his chest, he raised the menu and tried to stare at it, just to give himself some time. "The mansion, you mean."
"Oui. It's supposed to be our little mutants-only haven, non?" Jean-Paul glanced up at Simon. "I was trying to hide my powers when I first got there."
Simon just closed his eyes. "Who told you?"
"No one. I've been suspicious ever since you told me you were just here for study." Jean-Paul considered how to put it all into words. "You didn't have to be here. You were supposed to want to be here. To have enough curiosity about mutancy - about us - to uproot your whole life to be here. I never got that. What I did get was you trying to gain some control over your situation. It's something most everyone here has in common."
"I am curious about it," Simon insisted. It was just that he'd shot himself in the foot by pretending to be normal - to have no powers. No one wanted to deal with him.
Jean-Paul nodded. "I believe that. But it never came across as your driving reason for being there." He laughed softly. "Or maybe I showed you my powers too early and you got bored with me."
Simon snorted softly. "I'm fascinated. But I couldn't risk touching anyone for too long."
"Is that what happened to your hands?"
"That..." Simon sighed, glancing at his hands. They were healed now, for the most part, but it hadn't been pleasant. "Tamara shocked me when she didn't understand what I was doing."
Jean-Paul grimaced. "Rough. So what is it you do?"
"Biological detection. I...can sense a person's physiology, DNA, and any underlying problems with my touch," Simon murmured as he stared down at his menu.
Jean-Paul went quiet for a while, his attention seemingly on the menu. Finally, "And you can't control it, I'm guessing. That's why you're here."
"Actually, no." Simon told him, stroking the edge of the menu with one finger. "I'd been experimenting for quite some time when Xavier came to me...and I turned him down. But the school is so close to Columbia, and working with Dr. Mactaggart is ground-breaking in the field of genetics."
Now that was interesting. "You obviously don't want anyone to know what you can do. But you came anyway."
"I don't want my parents to know," Simon corrected. "Except that the more word gets out, the easier it is to get back to them. Living in a boarding school away from them seemed the easier choice."
"I can get that. If word gets out about my powers, I'm pretty much done."
Simon frowned softly, but nodded. "Forget about a career for either of us."
Jean-Paul looked as if he would ask a question, then thought better of it.
"Don't worry about me telling anyone," he said. "I'm not here to fuck up anyone's life."
"Thank you," Simon replied quietly. "Warren, and Tamara know, along with the medical staff. That's all."
Jean-Paul looked back down at his menu. "Well, if that changes, it won't be because of me."
Simon started to say something more, but the waiter arrived, and Simon was caught off-guard, not having really even looked at the menu. It took him a moment to make a selection, then handed the menu off, unhappy to have his makeshift shield taken away.
Jean-Paul made his order, along with tea for two, since Simon had neglected to order a drink for himself.
"Doing all right?"
"I've been outed three times in the past week," Simon pointed out. "What do you think?"
"I think I'd either be under the bed or punching people in your shoes. Which is why I'm asking."
"Ms. Friedlander has me on some anxiety medication at the moment, if that answers your question," Simon sighed quietly. "Although I wouldn't mind punching a few people."
"You need your hands, so might want to take that off the table." The teapot arrived, and Jean-Paul pushed one of the cups at Simon. "Here you go."
Simon reached for the cup without thinking about it. "How are you fitting in? Besides with the schoolwork?"
"I don't think I've pissed anyone off too badly yet. I'd say it's a vast improvement on my professional life."
"I read some articles," Simon both admitted and agreed with the other teen. Jean-Paul had made some enemies.
"So..." Jean-Paul shrugged. "For right now, I'm catching up on schoolwork and training as best I can. Between the gym and the Danger Room, I'm doing all right."
Simon nodded. "I won't be able to help with the schoolwork in the next month. I'm starting classes in New York soon."
"I appreciate what you've done so far. I feel a little more solid on the whole algebra thing." Jean-Paul grimaced a little as he said it, and sipped his tea.
"You shouldn't be ashamed," Simon told him, taking a sip.
"I'm not," Jean-Paul protested, perhaps a little too quickly. "It's just... annoying. I never did well when I was in school."
"Considering your personality, you are probably a kinesthetic learner. You need to move around while you're learning - write notes, take numerous breaks, and work the problems through with your hands rather than having to listen to a lecture," Simon told him.
"Exactly the kind of behavior that teachers just love," Jean-Paul sighed.
"This school isn't like a normal one. I'm certain if you talk to the teachers, they'll understand and accommodate your needs," Simon took a sip of tea.
"Maybe. But I don't want to think about school right now. That was kind of an intense tutoring session."
Simon backed down, nodding as their dishes were brought out and the close proximity of another rendered him momentarily silent. When the waiter retreated, he sighed. "I apologize."
"For what?" Jean-Paul pulled his bowl of steaming dumplings close, eagerness all over his face.
"For the mentoring being trying," Simon insisted, maneuvering the chopsticks into his noodles with almost as much relief as his companion.
"That's not on you. It's just the subject matter, you know?" Jean-Paul laughed at his own words. "Or maybe you don't."
"Learning to dance was like pulling teeth for me," Simon admitted.
"Formal dancing, I'm guessing?"
Simon nodded. "My sister is the one with more varied abilities in that area. And most others. Trust me when I say that I'm no stranger to frustration."
Jean-Paul popped a dumpling into his mouth. "Do you like dancing at all? Or was the learning not the only hard part?"
"It's never really been a thrill, no," Simon told him. "I know enough to get by at parties without completely embarrassing half of the Republican party."
Jean-Paul grimaced again. "Is that your party or your parents'?"
Simon eyed him skeptically. "Does it look like I have many parties?"
"Political party," Jean-Paul clarified.
"Oh," Simon said, a crease appearing in his brow. "I don't suppose I've thought about it. Or have one, as of yet."
"Voting age here is eighteen too, right? Close enough that you might want to think about it." Jean-Paul scarfed another dumpling; the subject wasn't worth pursuing at the moment. "Have you ever been skiing?"
"Twice," Simon nodded, eating his noodles more properly than they'd ever been meant for. "Though I mostly stayed in the lodge at the time."
Jean-Paul half-smiled. "I bet we could manage to program the Danger Room into something more interesting than sitting in front of a fireplace."
Simon looked up. "Why?"
That earned him a curious look. "Because it would be fun?"
Simon shrugged and took another bite. "Well, you're more than welcome to, but it's not something I really have time for."
"Your classes haven't started yet. What's the harm in enjoying yourself?"
"By skiing? No offense," Simon frowned.
"So how would you enjoy yourself, then? Doing something that isn't reading or research?" No offense his entire ass.
Simon shrugged a little. "Fencing, probably."
"Right. You started the fencing club." Jean-Paul considered him for a few moments. "So show me how?"
Eyebrows went up. "You want me to teach you to fence?"
Jean-Paul laughed, shaking his head lightly. "Well, mostly I'm attempting to make a friendly overture. You don't seem familiar with the species."
"Humans or friendly overtures?" Simon asked wryly. But he did smile, glancing down at his noodles. "Sorry."
"It's all right. But are you interested in a new student?"
Simon shrugged a little. "I did post the suggestion."
Jean-Paul snorted. "And I thought I kept people at a distance."
"I'm not. That's not what I'm doing. Yes, I would be happy to teach you," he said defiantly.
"Glad to hear it."
After struggling with algebra for almost an hour, Jean-Paul did the only thing that actually seemed to help. He threw the book across the room and glared at it before sulking back to his bed. If he could fall asleep for an hour or so, that sometimes actually helped organize his thoughts.
The problem was falling asleep when he was so frustrated that he wanted to break something.
Simon looked up when the book sailed across the room, a slight frown pulling at his brow. He'd been in the middle of reading a paper on a breakthrough in editing gene mutations in the embryo and hadn't paid much attention to his roommate until that point. From the small sectional sofa beneath his loft, he watched Jean-Paul sulk back to his bed, then pushed his laptop off to the side as he stood and searched out the book. "Algebra?"
"Yeah." Jean-Paul kept his back to Simon. "So?"
"So what exactly is the problem?" Simon asked, opening the book and flipping through the pages.
"If I knew that I could do something about it, couldn't I?" If he was being honest, Jean-Paul knew Simon didn't deserve to be snarled at. Even if they weren't friends, they'd at least been on almost-friendly terms since the night they'd sat up in the kitchen. But the idea of Simon, certified genius, being able to lord over his idiot roommate was not helping the desire to break things.
Simon eased off. Apparently, this was a learning deficiency, and he did, at least, understand that it was perhaps a sore spot. "What is your assignment?" He tried instead.
"Complete thirty problems for class tomorrow." And that seemed fucking impossible, even with superspeed.
"I meant - I meant, what types of problems..." Simon asserted, but wandered toward Jean-Paul's desk anyway.
Jean-Paul finally rolled over to look at him. "What are you doing?"
Simon glanced up. "I could help you."
Jean-Paul sat up, looking wary. "Why?"
"So you'll stop throwing books around our room?" Simon suggested.
Yeah, yeah. Fair point.
"Fine." Jean-Paul got up and headed over to the desk. "If you think you can slow down to my speed."
"I think I can find it in myself to return to the basics, yes," Simon told him wryly. "What part of it is tripping you up?"
The part that had been tripping Jean-Paul up had been relatively elementary equations, but working with Jean-Paul on thirty of them had almost been the equivalent of pulling teeth. Two hours later, Jean-Paul was much less frustrated, at least, but Simon wanted to stab an eye out with his stylus.
The homework, at least, was done. As was the book-throwing, which was helpful. And, of course, Jean-Paul was no longer pouting.
Jean-Paul closed the book and stood. "Come on, let's get out of here. Otherwise you'll throttle me before I can thank you."
Simon blinked. "What is leaving supposed to accomplish?"
"It's hard for me to treat you if we stay here."
"Treat me?" Simon eyed him. "With more sandwiches?"
"If you want. Or we could catch a bus into town and actually go do something."
"Something?" Simon frowned.
"Yeah. Go out to eat. Find a bookstore. Something."
Simon rubbed at the back of his neck. That actually sounded amazing. Both of them did. In fact, he had a headache coming on which probably meant that he most definitely needed to eat. Either that, or that Jean-Paul was more of a pain in the ass than he'd ever suspected. "You aren't sick of dealing with me at this point?"
That earned him an unexpectedly light-hearted laugh. "Entirely. But that's not your fault. And I promise, I'll be over that as soon as we're down this stupidly long-ass drive."
Simon blinked, looking at him in surprise at the laugh. "Oh. Ah. I guess...that would be okay."
"Grab your coat and whatever else you want to bring, then, and let's go."
For all his talk of getting out of the school, Jean-Paul spent most of their time out watching Simon. It wasn't that he seemed lost or anything, but he definitely didn't seem relaxed. Not during the walk or on the bus... but getting him into the bookstore was almost like watching a bird released back to the air. Simon had immediately taken point once they were inside the second-hand shop, and Jean-Paul had been willing to let him take the lead until growling stomachs had forced them both back out onto the street, looking for a place to eat.
Simon glanced up the street, searching signs, not seeing anything he really recognized besides fast food (and no thanks.) The whole outing had been odd for him. He wasn't used to being out in public with anyone besides his family. He hadn't had many friends as a child, and those that he'd had...well, he was usually too busy with his schoolwork to go out to book shops or restaurants on a whim. In fact, fencing practices and matches had probably been the most social he'd been in his life, which was probably why he felt so defensive on this outing with his roommate. Competition was everywhere, and he had a feeling that Jean-Paul had only suggested the outing so he could find some sort of weakness to exploit.
"What, uh, what kind of food do you usually enjoy?" he finally ventured.
"I'm not picky," Jean-Paul said. "Quality and quantity usually matter more to me than genre anymore. How about you? Anything we need to steer clear of?"
"I'm not terribly fond of fast food," Simon admitted. "Though I understand the need for quantity."
"That still leaves the world wide open for us." Jean-Paul hefted his bag of books and considered his phone for options. "OK, so within walking distance we have some kind of Greek place, Korean, a bistro, and some vegan joint."
"I could go for some jjajangmyeon," Simon said thoughtfully. "If you're willing to try Korean."
"I've had Korean before, oh worldly one," Jean-Paul said, a smirk on his lips. "But come on. It's about half a mile down this way."
"Right..." Simon experienced a moment of embarrassment, but followed his roommate down the idyllic small-town walkway. "Sorry."
"Why do you assume that no one else has exposure to any sort of culture?" Jean-Paul asked curiously. "Or is it just me?"
"Well, Warren of course," and Simon bit down on that. Pointing out the only other wealthy teen at the school hardly spoke to his character. "I mean, those that have experienced upscale urban-" and he bit down on that one too. Damnit.
Jean-Paul considered him. "Well, you're trying not to be a jerk, anyway."
Simon sighed heavily. "I don't have much experience with... well, other people, anyway."
"Other people who aren't rich, you mean?"
Getting to the restaurant required a quick dash to the opposite side of the street, but the brightly painted roof and cheerful animal characters on the windows certainly made the "Home of Seoul" look inviting (even if the name was something Bobby probably would have come up with).
"Even most people that are," Simon admitted as they crossed to the restaurant, the tangy smells already alighting his senses.
That got him a long, curious look that persisted even as they entered the restaurant and were seated.
"Any particular reason why? I mean, you're smart, you're good-looking... it's not like there's any reason you should have been locked away or anything."
Simon blinked at the comment about being good-looking. Of course, his mother had made plenty of comments about it before, when trying to force him into parties, but he'd never really heard it from someone else. "I've just...always been concentrated on work."
"And nothing but?" That was kind of sad. Especially since he hadn't had to.
"Fencing. Polo. Functions with my family," Simon told him, finding them a comfortable table in the back, with a window out onto the corner street.
"So this is your first real stab at a social life?"
Simon eyed him. "Are you rubbing it in?"
"I'm trying to get my head around it," Jean-Paul clarified. "I mean, it's not like it's sin or anything."
"Just odd," Simon suggested. "Yes. I know."
"You're in a good place to be odd." Jean-Paul pulled his menu close, then added, "Genetic or otherwise."
Simon had his hands on his menu when he sort of froze at what Jean-Paul had said. For two solid non-breaths, he panicked. Had Tamara said anything? Had Warren? It was just a snowball when a secret got out like that. Tell one person and within days, the entire school would know. His heart still hammering in his chest, he raised the menu and tried to stare at it, just to give himself some time. "The mansion, you mean."
"Oui. It's supposed to be our little mutants-only haven, non?" Jean-Paul glanced up at Simon. "I was trying to hide my powers when I first got there."
Simon just closed his eyes. "Who told you?"
"No one. I've been suspicious ever since you told me you were just here for study." Jean-Paul considered how to put it all into words. "You didn't have to be here. You were supposed to want to be here. To have enough curiosity about mutancy - about us - to uproot your whole life to be here. I never got that. What I did get was you trying to gain some control over your situation. It's something most everyone here has in common."
"I am curious about it," Simon insisted. It was just that he'd shot himself in the foot by pretending to be normal - to have no powers. No one wanted to deal with him.
Jean-Paul nodded. "I believe that. But it never came across as your driving reason for being there." He laughed softly. "Or maybe I showed you my powers too early and you got bored with me."
Simon snorted softly. "I'm fascinated. But I couldn't risk touching anyone for too long."
"Is that what happened to your hands?"
"That..." Simon sighed, glancing at his hands. They were healed now, for the most part, but it hadn't been pleasant. "Tamara shocked me when she didn't understand what I was doing."
Jean-Paul grimaced. "Rough. So what is it you do?"
"Biological detection. I...can sense a person's physiology, DNA, and any underlying problems with my touch," Simon murmured as he stared down at his menu.
Jean-Paul went quiet for a while, his attention seemingly on the menu. Finally, "And you can't control it, I'm guessing. That's why you're here."
"Actually, no." Simon told him, stroking the edge of the menu with one finger. "I'd been experimenting for quite some time when Xavier came to me...and I turned him down. But the school is so close to Columbia, and working with Dr. Mactaggart is ground-breaking in the field of genetics."
Now that was interesting. "You obviously don't want anyone to know what you can do. But you came anyway."
"I don't want my parents to know," Simon corrected. "Except that the more word gets out, the easier it is to get back to them. Living in a boarding school away from them seemed the easier choice."
"I can get that. If word gets out about my powers, I'm pretty much done."
Simon frowned softly, but nodded. "Forget about a career for either of us."
Jean-Paul looked as if he would ask a question, then thought better of it.
"Don't worry about me telling anyone," he said. "I'm not here to fuck up anyone's life."
"Thank you," Simon replied quietly. "Warren, and Tamara know, along with the medical staff. That's all."
Jean-Paul looked back down at his menu. "Well, if that changes, it won't be because of me."
Simon started to say something more, but the waiter arrived, and Simon was caught off-guard, not having really even looked at the menu. It took him a moment to make a selection, then handed the menu off, unhappy to have his makeshift shield taken away.
Jean-Paul made his order, along with tea for two, since Simon had neglected to order a drink for himself.
"Doing all right?"
"I've been outed three times in the past week," Simon pointed out. "What do you think?"
"I think I'd either be under the bed or punching people in your shoes. Which is why I'm asking."
"Ms. Friedlander has me on some anxiety medication at the moment, if that answers your question," Simon sighed quietly. "Although I wouldn't mind punching a few people."
"You need your hands, so might want to take that off the table." The teapot arrived, and Jean-Paul pushed one of the cups at Simon. "Here you go."
Simon reached for the cup without thinking about it. "How are you fitting in? Besides with the schoolwork?"
"I don't think I've pissed anyone off too badly yet. I'd say it's a vast improvement on my professional life."
"I read some articles," Simon both admitted and agreed with the other teen. Jean-Paul had made some enemies.
"So..." Jean-Paul shrugged. "For right now, I'm catching up on schoolwork and training as best I can. Between the gym and the Danger Room, I'm doing all right."
Simon nodded. "I won't be able to help with the schoolwork in the next month. I'm starting classes in New York soon."
"I appreciate what you've done so far. I feel a little more solid on the whole algebra thing." Jean-Paul grimaced a little as he said it, and sipped his tea.
"You shouldn't be ashamed," Simon told him, taking a sip.
"I'm not," Jean-Paul protested, perhaps a little too quickly. "It's just... annoying. I never did well when I was in school."
"Considering your personality, you are probably a kinesthetic learner. You need to move around while you're learning - write notes, take numerous breaks, and work the problems through with your hands rather than having to listen to a lecture," Simon told him.
"Exactly the kind of behavior that teachers just love," Jean-Paul sighed.
"This school isn't like a normal one. I'm certain if you talk to the teachers, they'll understand and accommodate your needs," Simon took a sip of tea.
"Maybe. But I don't want to think about school right now. That was kind of an intense tutoring session."
Simon backed down, nodding as their dishes were brought out and the close proximity of another rendered him momentarily silent. When the waiter retreated, he sighed. "I apologize."
"For what?" Jean-Paul pulled his bowl of steaming dumplings close, eagerness all over his face.
"For the mentoring being trying," Simon insisted, maneuvering the chopsticks into his noodles with almost as much relief as his companion.
"That's not on you. It's just the subject matter, you know?" Jean-Paul laughed at his own words. "Or maybe you don't."
"Learning to dance was like pulling teeth for me," Simon admitted.
"Formal dancing, I'm guessing?"
Simon nodded. "My sister is the one with more varied abilities in that area. And most others. Trust me when I say that I'm no stranger to frustration."
Jean-Paul popped a dumpling into his mouth. "Do you like dancing at all? Or was the learning not the only hard part?"
"It's never really been a thrill, no," Simon told him. "I know enough to get by at parties without completely embarrassing half of the Republican party."
Jean-Paul grimaced again. "Is that your party or your parents'?"
Simon eyed him skeptically. "Does it look like I have many parties?"
"Political party," Jean-Paul clarified.
"Oh," Simon said, a crease appearing in his brow. "I don't suppose I've thought about it. Or have one, as of yet."
"Voting age here is eighteen too, right? Close enough that you might want to think about it." Jean-Paul scarfed another dumpling; the subject wasn't worth pursuing at the moment. "Have you ever been skiing?"
"Twice," Simon nodded, eating his noodles more properly than they'd ever been meant for. "Though I mostly stayed in the lodge at the time."
Jean-Paul half-smiled. "I bet we could manage to program the Danger Room into something more interesting than sitting in front of a fireplace."
Simon looked up. "Why?"
That earned him a curious look. "Because it would be fun?"
Simon shrugged and took another bite. "Well, you're more than welcome to, but it's not something I really have time for."
"Your classes haven't started yet. What's the harm in enjoying yourself?"
"By skiing? No offense," Simon frowned.
"So how would you enjoy yourself, then? Doing something that isn't reading or research?" No offense his entire ass.
Simon shrugged a little. "Fencing, probably."
"Right. You started the fencing club." Jean-Paul considered him for a few moments. "So show me how?"
Eyebrows went up. "You want me to teach you to fence?"
Jean-Paul laughed, shaking his head lightly. "Well, mostly I'm attempting to make a friendly overture. You don't seem familiar with the species."
"Humans or friendly overtures?" Simon asked wryly. But he did smile, glancing down at his noodles. "Sorry."
"It's all right. But are you interested in a new student?"
Simon shrugged a little. "I did post the suggestion."
Jean-Paul snorted. "And I thought I kept people at a distance."
"I'm not. That's not what I'm doing. Yes, I would be happy to teach you," he said defiantly.
"Glad to hear it."
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