Jean-Paul and Lil - November 8
Nov. 8th, 2017 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainLil looks for a break from all the Magneto talk in the kitchen. Jean-Paul won't let her have one.
The school was not a very fun place today. Everyone was all up in arms about that Magneto dude and he and the idea of the XMen seemed to be all that people wanted to talk about.
Not Lil, which was why she'd decided to hide out in the kitchen with a big plate full of crackers and cheese and catch up on some reading in her programming text. With Nolan's encouragement, her interest in computers has started to grow, and anyway, it was a damn sight more understandable then whatever bull was being discussed in the rest of the school.
Jean-Paul stalked into the kitchen, looking as if he'd have happily gotten into hand to hand combat with any number of eldritch horrors just to have something to fight. He spared Lil a glance, then began pulling components out of the fridge.
Well, there he was, one of the 'boyfriends'. Ever since Shiniobi's party Lil had been hard pressed to think of JP in any other way. Oh the things she now knew about famous people... but it didn't matter in the larger scheme of things, and right now he was just another student in the school (right), and Lil supposed she should be polite and do the getting thing. "Hey," she said and raised a hand in a small wave.
Jean-Paul looked up from his prep work sharply, but reined himself in.
"Hey. You hiding out too?"
"Yup," Lil smiled. "I'll leave the political talk to everyone else, thank you very much."
Jean-Paul frowned slightly. "You've already made a decision, then?"
Oh god. How the fuck could he be hiding out if the first thing he did was bring up the same crap... "I don't need to. I came here to go to school, not to get all tangled up in this country's shit."
Jean-Paul shook his head and began peeling potatoes with a small knife. Because peelers were too slow once you knew what you were doing.
"This shit isn't going to stop at the borders of this country. Mutants just became a worldwide threat."
"Because some old dude wearing a trash can on his head spouted some crap on American TV? Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna get too worried about it." He must have in the US too long - he seemed to be buying into the idea that they were the center of the universe.
"Why do you think people are so scared of mutants?" Jean-Paul asked. "Like, actually fucking terrified."
"Because they're idiots," Lil scowled. "Are you trying to convince me to join up or something? Because I don't think a bunch of kids running around playing superhero is going to change what people think."
Jean-Paul snorted, and reduced the potato to a small, uniform dice. "I'm not in the habit of convincing people to go in for anything I'm not willing to do myself. And I have my reasons for being in the 'not' camp, fucking believe me. I doubt they'll make me popular." He put them aside, then started on onions. "As to my question, they're scared because we're living weapons. We can't be controlled, or predicted, or easily screened for. And one of those living weapons has publicly declared war on 99.99% of the world. And the fallout isn't just going to land on him. It's coming for all of us."
"I'm not a weapon. I'm just invulnerable." She insisted that despite the fact that that Jean-Paul had managed to plant a small seed of doubt in her. Tamara zapped people with electricity and fire. Wynonna could shoot people with a magical gun. Nick... wouldn't harm a fly, but he certainly looked like he was a threat if someone was an idiot, and hadn't she just said people were? Still... "Stupid. A country where everyone's running around with guns, and they get all bent out of shape over some kid who can run fast."
"You could walk through a hail of gunfire and strangle the life out of the president of this, admittedly, stupid country if you wanted to," Jean-Paul pointed out. "Or just shoot him yourself at close range, if you wished to make it quick."
Jean-Paul's image was vivid and it reminded Lil of T2. It was one of the last movies she'd watched with her dad before he'd buggered off down south, and her mom had just about torn his head off when she found out he'd let Lil watch it, but it had made an impression at the time. The villain was terrifying, some sort of liquid robot that couldn't be killed. Shoot it, crush it, blow it up, and it just kept coming. And Jean-Paul had just cast her in that role. "Jesus," she said quietly. "That's how they'd see me?"
"The ones who are inclined to look at us and see only what we are? Oui. Of course. And the problem is, some of them have very loud voices. Or seats of power. And our opposite number in the dramatic helmet has just given them credibility."
She had always felt the weight of hiding what she could do. Her mother and doctor had lectured her over and over again on the matter, and after the car accident when she'd walked away unharmed (unlike poor Cherry), suspicions had suddenly started to flare up in the community had been part of the reason Lil what at the school in the first place... She still had a hard time thinking that her own people would think of her as some monster, but they could certainly see Magneto that way. She pushed her plate away. For the first time in ages, she'd lost her appetite. "I sorta wish you hadn't come in here."
"I'm sure you do." Jean-Paul continued with his prep. "Like I said, I'm not here to convince you to do anything. Just don't dismiss the others."
"When the fuck did I say I was dismissing the others? We were talking about Magneto." Nice. Come in for food, get lectured by a fucking frog.
"In several sentences, when we started talking about Magneto." Jean-Paul seemed utterly unruffled by Lil's accusation. "You thought that people were making a fuss over nothing. That you 'don't need to get tangled up in this country's shit'. If that's not being dismissive, I think I'll be impressed when you truly don't give a shit."
One nice thing about Yellowknife, their French people weren't the know-it-all assholes the Quebecers always seemed to be. Lil glared at Jean-Paul over her food. "Then be impressed, because I really don't give a shit about you or your opinions right now."
Jean-Paul gave her a brief glance, then went back to his food. "Non. You look about the same as you did when I came in."
"Yeah well, not giving a shit about some stuck-up queeb* doesn't take a whole lot of fucking effort." Fuck him. Lil pushed out her chair and stood up. The food wasn't worth this.
"Alas for my ego," Jean-Paul said, a mocking lilt to his voice. "But at least I'm a queeb who has more perspective on the world than someone from Ass End of Nowhere, Yellowknife who's put in so little thought about her own situation that she'll sit idly by until someone comes aiming to put a noose necklace around her lovely red neck."
If this were home, he'd be going back to his room to explain the broken nose to his boyfriends, but this wasn't home and hitting the son-of-a-bitch was probably impossible. That made the choice not to hit him sound easy, but it was a struggle to keep her balled fist at her side as the anger washed over her and by the time her head cleared, she knew that she must look like a goddamn idiot standing there, just staring at him.
There wasn't a damn thing she could think to do or say that wouldn't make her smaller then she already felt, so she simply turned and walked out.
*Note for non-Canucks - Queeb can be a minor slur for someone from Quebec. Shortened form of a godawful pronunciation of Quebec that goes Kwee-bec.)
The school was not a very fun place today. Everyone was all up in arms about that Magneto dude and he and the idea of the XMen seemed to be all that people wanted to talk about.
Not Lil, which was why she'd decided to hide out in the kitchen with a big plate full of crackers and cheese and catch up on some reading in her programming text. With Nolan's encouragement, her interest in computers has started to grow, and anyway, it was a damn sight more understandable then whatever bull was being discussed in the rest of the school.
Jean-Paul stalked into the kitchen, looking as if he'd have happily gotten into hand to hand combat with any number of eldritch horrors just to have something to fight. He spared Lil a glance, then began pulling components out of the fridge.
Well, there he was, one of the 'boyfriends'. Ever since Shiniobi's party Lil had been hard pressed to think of JP in any other way. Oh the things she now knew about famous people... but it didn't matter in the larger scheme of things, and right now he was just another student in the school (right), and Lil supposed she should be polite and do the getting thing. "Hey," she said and raised a hand in a small wave.
Jean-Paul looked up from his prep work sharply, but reined himself in.
"Hey. You hiding out too?"
"Yup," Lil smiled. "I'll leave the political talk to everyone else, thank you very much."
Jean-Paul frowned slightly. "You've already made a decision, then?"
Oh god. How the fuck could he be hiding out if the first thing he did was bring up the same crap... "I don't need to. I came here to go to school, not to get all tangled up in this country's shit."
Jean-Paul shook his head and began peeling potatoes with a small knife. Because peelers were too slow once you knew what you were doing.
"This shit isn't going to stop at the borders of this country. Mutants just became a worldwide threat."
"Because some old dude wearing a trash can on his head spouted some crap on American TV? Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna get too worried about it." He must have in the US too long - he seemed to be buying into the idea that they were the center of the universe.
"Why do you think people are so scared of mutants?" Jean-Paul asked. "Like, actually fucking terrified."
"Because they're idiots," Lil scowled. "Are you trying to convince me to join up or something? Because I don't think a bunch of kids running around playing superhero is going to change what people think."
Jean-Paul snorted, and reduced the potato to a small, uniform dice. "I'm not in the habit of convincing people to go in for anything I'm not willing to do myself. And I have my reasons for being in the 'not' camp, fucking believe me. I doubt they'll make me popular." He put them aside, then started on onions. "As to my question, they're scared because we're living weapons. We can't be controlled, or predicted, or easily screened for. And one of those living weapons has publicly declared war on 99.99% of the world. And the fallout isn't just going to land on him. It's coming for all of us."
"I'm not a weapon. I'm just invulnerable." She insisted that despite the fact that that Jean-Paul had managed to plant a small seed of doubt in her. Tamara zapped people with electricity and fire. Wynonna could shoot people with a magical gun. Nick... wouldn't harm a fly, but he certainly looked like he was a threat if someone was an idiot, and hadn't she just said people were? Still... "Stupid. A country where everyone's running around with guns, and they get all bent out of shape over some kid who can run fast."
"You could walk through a hail of gunfire and strangle the life out of the president of this, admittedly, stupid country if you wanted to," Jean-Paul pointed out. "Or just shoot him yourself at close range, if you wished to make it quick."
Jean-Paul's image was vivid and it reminded Lil of T2. It was one of the last movies she'd watched with her dad before he'd buggered off down south, and her mom had just about torn his head off when she found out he'd let Lil watch it, but it had made an impression at the time. The villain was terrifying, some sort of liquid robot that couldn't be killed. Shoot it, crush it, blow it up, and it just kept coming. And Jean-Paul had just cast her in that role. "Jesus," she said quietly. "That's how they'd see me?"
"The ones who are inclined to look at us and see only what we are? Oui. Of course. And the problem is, some of them have very loud voices. Or seats of power. And our opposite number in the dramatic helmet has just given them credibility."
She had always felt the weight of hiding what she could do. Her mother and doctor had lectured her over and over again on the matter, and after the car accident when she'd walked away unharmed (unlike poor Cherry), suspicions had suddenly started to flare up in the community had been part of the reason Lil what at the school in the first place... She still had a hard time thinking that her own people would think of her as some monster, but they could certainly see Magneto that way. She pushed her plate away. For the first time in ages, she'd lost her appetite. "I sorta wish you hadn't come in here."
"I'm sure you do." Jean-Paul continued with his prep. "Like I said, I'm not here to convince you to do anything. Just don't dismiss the others."
"When the fuck did I say I was dismissing the others? We were talking about Magneto." Nice. Come in for food, get lectured by a fucking frog.
"In several sentences, when we started talking about Magneto." Jean-Paul seemed utterly unruffled by Lil's accusation. "You thought that people were making a fuss over nothing. That you 'don't need to get tangled up in this country's shit'. If that's not being dismissive, I think I'll be impressed when you truly don't give a shit."
One nice thing about Yellowknife, their French people weren't the know-it-all assholes the Quebecers always seemed to be. Lil glared at Jean-Paul over her food. "Then be impressed, because I really don't give a shit about you or your opinions right now."
Jean-Paul gave her a brief glance, then went back to his food. "Non. You look about the same as you did when I came in."
"Yeah well, not giving a shit about some stuck-up queeb* doesn't take a whole lot of fucking effort." Fuck him. Lil pushed out her chair and stood up. The food wasn't worth this.
"Alas for my ego," Jean-Paul said, a mocking lilt to his voice. "But at least I'm a queeb who has more perspective on the world than someone from Ass End of Nowhere, Yellowknife who's put in so little thought about her own situation that she'll sit idly by until someone comes aiming to put a noose necklace around her lovely red neck."
If this were home, he'd be going back to his room to explain the broken nose to his boyfriends, but this wasn't home and hitting the son-of-a-bitch was probably impossible. That made the choice not to hit him sound easy, but it was a struggle to keep her balled fist at her side as the anger washed over her and by the time her head cleared, she knew that she must look like a goddamn idiot standing there, just staring at him.
There wasn't a damn thing she could think to do or say that wouldn't make her smaller then she already felt, so she simply turned and walked out.
*Note for non-Canucks - Queeb can be a minor slur for someone from Quebec. Shortened form of a godawful pronunciation of Quebec that goes Kwee-bec.)
