capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO:

hackeralastair, anyone else who wants to jump in.
WHERE: Spark Roast, the only coffe shop in the city.
WHEN: Early Sunday afternoon
SUMMARY: JP meets with Alistair. They have a lot to discuss. JP wants to hear all about himself.
FORMAT: Prose opening, I'll follow your lead after that.
NOTES: Ahahaha now in the right community. /fails

It was a beautiful day; bright, with a sharpness in the air lingering from winter, but enough sunlight to remind you of spring. A little chilly, maybe, if you weren't used to high atmospheric conditions or Canadian winters. For Jean-Paul it was the perfect day to dins out about his counterpart, and juts how embarrassed he would have to be. On the inside, of course, because showing embarrassment was for people who lacked self-control.

Alistair, this strange pseudo-friend, had sent him directions to a coffee shop when asked if they could meet up. It had taken Jean-Paul a little time to work though how he felt about this whole thing, not to mention the added complications of moving back to the Institute and trying to throw together some sort of teaching schedule. Eventually he'd thrown up his hands and gave him, suggesting a perfectly reasonable time on a fairly innocuous day when things in the city seemed relatively calm.

So far.

He's ordered his coffee (black, large, no stupid names) and found himself a seat by the widow, which meant he could watch the street and enjoy the sun at the same time. Now all he had to do was wait.

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Alastair was going a bit stir-crazy these days. Between the 'porter's constant revolving door of friends and friends of friends and being suddenly in charge of both his and Weasel's projects at work, he couldn't find the time to breathe, let alone have a social life. Jean-Paul's call was a welcome break, he agreed without hesitation to meet him at the coffeeshop just to get out of the house.

Even if this wasn't his JP, judging by the reaction to the nickname.

It wasn't warm enough yet for his favorite coat, so he had on his leather winter jacket, but the sunglasses and bright red hair were obvious to anyone who might have seen him before. He went straight to the counter and ordered up his usual latte before looking around. There he is. All right, here we go. Alastair took his coffee and drifted over to the table where Jean-Paul sat.

"Uh. Hi."

"Ah, hello."

Jean-Paul had been tracking Alistair since he arrived. There something about this man that had made him important to another version of JP; there was no why to know what that was just from looking at him, but Jean-Paul had so little to go on otherwise he couldn't help himself. Nice jacket (not as cool as his own (http://i45.tinypic.com/noxaqg.jpg)), good sunglasses (he didn't have any, one point for Alistair), red hair (undecided).

Jean-Paul was shallow.

"Please," he said, standing up and gesturing to the seat opposite his own but, confusingly, also putting out a hand to shake. It wasn't easy to fall back on his rarely-used reserves of politeness. "Alistair, yes? It's good to meet you in person."

Alastair shook the offered hand first, before sliding into the seat. "Yeah, hey. I know, the comms are good and all but nothing beats being face to face." Such a lame thing to say, but he didn't know what else to do yet. The past couple of weeks of people being switched in and out hadn't prepared him for actually facing an alternate version of a friend.

"I guess, with all the X-people and their school and whatever, you haven't had too hard a time settling in," he chanced. "A lot of people you know, or should probably know. Right?"

Jean-Paul sat too, then sipped at his coffee. "You're right. It takes a while to get used to talking to people that way, and it's hard to get to know more than the most basic details."

He smiled, swiping a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I don't know how much my... other self told you about his time with the X-Men, or if he was even part of the team. But I did know many people at the Institute, as an active team member and later solely as a teacher. And more recently, when I joined the team again and we were forced to move to our own...fortress, I suppose it could be called. I can't pretend that I liked all those people, or even most of them. And so many of them are different here, in a lot of ways." He glanced back at Alistair, half smiling. "As I'm sure you know. But there's so many of them, it can be a little tiring at times. Even I run out of insults eventually."

That made Alastair laugh a bit around a sip of his latte. "Yeah, you're Jean-Paul all right. He always did have that same attitude. I didn't press too much about the X-business, he didn't seem inclined to share and I kind of didn't care. As long as whatever we were doing was more interesting, we didn't talk too much about our pasts."

Thinking about it brought one other thing to mind, something Alastair had nearly forgotten in the time since his friend was ported out. He looked down at the table and the coffee cup between his hands. "He, uh. Saved my life once, too."

Laughter was good; Jean-Paul smiled in return, sharp and hard. "I can think of a lot of things more interesting than sitting around listening to myself talk about how unappreciated I was among the other big children wearing spandex, especially here. There never seems to be a quiet moment in this city."

And speaking of, that sounded like exactly the sort of thing that would happen in this world. Jean-Paul leaned forward. "He did? Well, you must tell me how! Exciting, dramatic adventures are much more interesting than me telling you how Emma and I once smoked all of Logan's cigars. Especially if I'm the one being exciting and dramatic." He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "Unless it's something you'd rather not talk about?"

"Oh, no...no worries. It wasn't anything terribly traumatic on my part," Alastair assured. "There were these things attacking people all around the city, feeding on their emotions. One chased me into an alley, and he was one of like...two people who responded to my call for help. I drew the thing out into the open and he killed it before it could hurt me." He paused and scratched his chin. Funny, how long ago that seemed, now. "It wasn't some kind of epic throwdown, but it was my life being threatened and I'm kinda glad it got saved."

"Hah, of course." Jean-Paul looked thoughtful, gulping down another sip of his still-hot coffee. "Was this the first time you met? Or had you known each other before?"

He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I feel like a police officer interrogating a witness. If I'm asking anything too personal, please just tell me so. You won't hurt my feelings."

Alastair shook his head. "There's not a lot I haven't said publicly on the comms by this point, I'm not bothered. Uh...no, actually, he was pretty much the first person to welcome me to the City, when I first got here. We went out for coffee," he added with a lame laugh. "My first day here. After that, I mean...we didn't hang out every day, or all the time, but we talked a lot and ran into each other once in a while."

He offered Jean-Paul as casual a smile as he could. There was something so familiar about him that this meeting was coming off far less awkward than he anticipated. For now, at least.

"That's funny, the way the your introduction to him has been echoed by my introduction to you..." Jean-Paul smiled, tracing figures on the table top with one finger. "Perhaps whatever entity runs this city has a sense of humour?"

He did feel oddly at ease; maybe working with the X-Men had mellowed him out more than expected, or maybe this who alternate-world scenario subconsciously made him seek out allies like this young man, as strange as the connection between them might they might be. For some reason Jean-Paul didn't want to question it too hard right now.

"I think I would like it," he continued, not quite meeting Alistair's eyes. One might almost think he was nervous. "If we were able to forge such a friendship between ourselves? I can't ever promise to be the same Jean-Paul that you knew, but...maybe I can be his equal."

That same funny feeling from long ago, of being in the presence of someone who understood, who knew how much life sucked but went on being a day-to-day hero anyway, made Alastair very nearly blush. "It's kind of dumb to expect anyone to be the same as someone else...even if they kind of are," he admitted. "I don't want to really compare, it's cool just...getting to know each other here and now. So...yeah, sure. As long as you don't mind hanging out with a hacker kid who likes motorcycles and techno music and isn't all that big on skiing." He smirked, then. "And has a big mouth.

He didn't really address the comment about entities running the city...it made him think of the Porter and how much he hated it. Especially at times like this, with Saitou leaving and coming back, and dead friends staying dead. Instead, he concentrated on the rest, and found himself nodding in agreement. "Friends is good. Can never have too many, right?"

"Techno music I can take or leave. Get me drunk and I'll dance to anything," Jean-Paul said, counting off on his finger with a smirk. "Hacking will quite possibly prove useful at some point. Motorbikes...well, we could race, if you don't mind losing. And not being a fan skiing would normally be a deal-breaker, but I'm much more into snowboarding these days anyway."

He dropped his hands to the table again, his smirk broadening into a grin. "And I can hardly fault someone for having a big mouth. As long as no vitriol is poured on me, I will gossip with you until the sun sets. You'll live to regret saying you can never have too many friends, when I start introducing you to the million X-Men just so I can talk about them behind their backs."

Alastair cackled a bit. "I always did want to race my bike against someone with super-speed. Come springtime, you are so on." He arched an eyebrow in challenge over the edge of his coffee cup. "...I've got a Ducati street bike."

He took a sip, seemed to mull it over, and set the cup back down. "So was life treating you normal back home, or was it one of those end-of-the-world issues people come in talking about sometimes? I never can tell, there's obviously so many different dimensions all criss-crossing here."

"Oh, really?" Jean-Paul met Alistair's stare head-on, not even trying to keep the superior smirk off his face.. "Funny, it was a Ducati that led to me re-joining the X-Men. Someone managed to escape them because they had no one who could keep up with his bike...so they came to me to make sure it wouldn't happen again. I hope your pride can cope with losing."

But then he laughed, dissipating whatever macho persona he might have been projecting for a moment. "Viarge, it is never quiet back home. We just exiled ourselves on a hopefully-self-sufficient island to escape Norman Osborn and his terrible haircut. But what about you?" Jean-Paul leaned forward. "Tell me about your world."

"Really now." Alastair took that smirk as a challenge, all right. "None of their guys could keep up with a bike? That's sad. Well, then. It sounds like something I definitely want to do! The police force is stretched pretty thin so there's usually stretches of highway that are totally unguarded - where I can really open her up."

And then it happened. One word triggered his power, and the rest of his comment spilled out involuntarily in French. "Osborn...oh god, that guy. I know he's around this place somewhere, I'm always seeing the back-and-forth between him and Stark..."

He paused, and then shook his head in order to give himself a moment to reset his mind to English. "Crap, it happened again...."

"A little law-bending in the name of fun never hurt anyone!" Jean-Paul declared with a determined nod. "Except all those times it possibly did. I hope you fill that thing with rocket fuel, or I'm going to be bored."

He watched with interest, head slightly tilted, as Alistair launched into French. "Hmm. I take it you weren't supposed to do that?" he asked in his native tongue. "Can you understand me? One of the children at the school used to have powers like this, I think."

Alastair definitely liked that attitude. That was why they'd been friends in the first place. It could only get better from here, right?

He nodded and let himself respond in kind. "Yeah, this is my power. I can understand any language I hear. All it takes is one word to set it off." He grinned widely. "Makes going on vacation real easy."

"I would guess so, yeah," Jean-Paul said. It was nice to be able to speak in proper, real Quebecois French and not have to worry about people thinking he was making mistakes just because it wasn't the Parisian French they had been taught. "Does it work with written words, too? I imagine you could make a lot of money doing translation work, if you needed it."

That was the nice thing about his power - Alastair responded in whatever dialect he heard, so there was no discrimination as far as accents went. "It does, yeah. Although it's harder, since if I don't write it down right away I forget it eventually. I'm not actually learning the language." He smiled a bit coyly over his coffee. "I thought about that, but I work for Stark and he pays me better than well. I suppose it could be a fall-back, if something ever happened to his company."

"You work for Stark?" Jean-Paul made a tsk-ing noise and shook his head, trying to look disapproving. "Christ, that's probably the worst thing you've told me so far today."

Jean-Paul had no love for Iron man; not only had he repeatedly ignored the plight of mutants in their own world then tried to recruit them in his little game of soldiers, but he'd lost Jean-Paul a lot of money in StarkTech shares when the company had gone bust.

"I hope you're aware of his...reputation," Jean-Paul continued in English, leaving a very significant pause. "He's no saint. But then you do call yourself a hacker, so I imagine your morals are more flexible than most."

Alastair smiled vaguely at that. "Oh, I'm aware that he's not well-liked. I keep a close eye on the comm, and sometimes I wonder what he's done to earn that reputation because he's always been helpful to me. Either way. When he offered me a job, I said the only stipulation was, he'd better not be designing or building weapons. That's about the only thing I won't do." He shrugged easily. "So I work on programming for new projects, like cell phones and holography and stuff."

He paused for a sip of his latte and then smirked again. "I take it there's no love lost between you two, for whatever reason."

"Oh, I imagine he can be very helpful", Jean-Paul said, mirroring Alistair as he took a drink of his own coffee. "It's his view of the bigger picture that worries me. He always thinks he knows better than everyone. It's very...patronising."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair until it was balancing on it's two back legs. "I've never had personal dealings with Stark, that I can remember. Maybe we've fought at some point in the past. But...he's never exactly been a good friend to mutants, and that's where my loyalties lie." He shrugged, half-smiling. "After myself, of course."

"Oh, don't think I haven't noticed," Alastair assured with a grin. "I'm used to dealing with egomaniacs, though, so it's sort of nothing new for me."

He tilted his head slightly, making his bangs fall into his eyes. "...okay, so. I admit I really don't know a hell of a lot about the mutant thing. Actually...come to think of it, it was Jean-Paul who told me what I do know. So, don't be entirely surprised if I can't totally relate."

"Well, you were my friend," said Jean-Paul with a grin. Look, self-depreciation! "Although perhaps if egomaniacs keep seeking you out, you should consider how you might be presenting yourself?"

He tipped his chair forward again with a thump, then rested one elbow on the table and held his chin in his hand. "Mutants are...more than human. We're born with the superpowers that other people have thrust onto them. My sister and I have superspeed, of course, and when we touch we can produce light. I'm sure you've seen the rest of the X-Men and their various abilities. In our world..." He trailed of for a moment, then snorted. "Humans don't like us, as a rule. Because we have to fight to gain recognition, I think many other superheroes see us as constantly pursuing an agenda."

"Takes one to know one, you mean." Alastair chuckled.

He nodded slowly as he took in the explanation. "Yeah, we've talked about that part before. How it's...like and yet not like being gay in the modern world. I lived in L.A. for seven years so I'm not as bothered by prejudices anymore." He scratched idly at his cheek. "Although, no, I haven't really seen a lot of people's powers. I'm obviously not much of a fighter so I tend to keep my head down somewhere safe whenever the heroes need to go out and do their thing."

"Mmm, the comparison to queer culture bothers me because that's one I also fight in, and I can see the differences very clearly." Jean-Paul shrugged with one shoulder. "I suppose as an example it's not bad, though."

He drank the rest of his coffee in one gulp. "With the amount we mutants fight other people, and each other, we get used to battle. But I suppose a passive power makes fighting less of a thrill. I can go in knowing I'm not likely to be touched. You...well. Have you thought of using a gun? Or maybe you can convince Tony to build you some armour."

For the first time, Alastair's expression darkened and his eyes slowly focused elsewhere. "I know somebody who could teach me to use a gun, but...I don't think I could. I have some bad memories that would get stirred up every time I touched it. It's fine. When shit goes down in the City I tend to hole up in my apartment 'till it's over." With one or two notable exceptions, which he kept to himself for the time being. Although, Jean-Paul's second suggestion might be interesting. Armor, maybe like an old friend's. Just in case he had to run to rescue anyone from Cavil again...hmm...

"Mmm." Jean-Paul watched Alistair, eyes narrowed slightly. He had obviously hit a nerve, and wasn't quite sure whether to negotiate around it or poke it until it twitched some more. Perhaps he'd bring it up again when they were more familiar. "I suppose there's no need, really. Like you say, you can keep a low profile until things blow over, or call for help if you need it. There's as many superheroes here as back home, easily, and you have a way of contacting them-" He fished his comm out of his pocket as he spoke and casually tossed it on the table with a clatter. "-at a moment's notice if anything goes wrong."

As long as Alistair had a moment's notice, of course.

Alastair shrugged it off and nodded. "Yeah, the comms are good for that. Faster than a cellphone usually, although if you're in a hurry there's not usually time to encrypt posts or block 'em against the people you don't want seeing." Talking technology made him perk back up rather quickly, as did a sip of Agatha's high-octane espresso. "Have you figured out the private filters and stuff yet, or you want somebody with good encryptions to show you the ropes?"

"Encrypt? Filter?" Jean-Paul shrugged, twirling the comm around on the table and no doubt scratching it's shiny finish. "I have no idea. I was talking to Samuel, a colleague, using the private functions, but I just followed his lead. I'm not sure I would know how to do it myself."

He nodded, though. "It's probably a useful skill to have, if you wouldn't mind. It will save me have to ask the children at the Institute how to work it. They already think I'm ancient and out of touch, I'm sure."

"Oh, I can totally show you," Alastair bragged, reaching back and whipping out his own comm from his coat pocket. "Piggybacking on someone else's private filter is a start, but if you want to encrypt something on your own, it helps to have some codes and know what to do with them. Especially since there are technopaths in the system who love to hack private posts."

Fortunately, Alastair's comm was currently sporting a set of encryptions he got from work and then embellished himself, over the last few months, so they were pretty secure. He could just transfer them to Jean-Paul's comm from his own on a private message and then show him how to work it, so for a few minutes he leaned over the table and patiently, skillfully, did so.

Jean-Paul was, on top of being an excellent business man, superb athlete, exemplary X-Man and all-round pinnacle of his species, a pretty good student, too. Despite almost posting close-ups of his and/or Alistair's face to the network several times, it only took him three or four tries to follow his new friend's lead and feel confidant in making variously locked posts of his own.

"The more I think about it, the more useful these could be," he said, leaning back and flicking idly backwards and forwards though pages on the network. "I mean, if I take embarrassing photos of, say, Alison and Warren, I could filter a post to them and extort, oh, the keys to one of Warren's cars."

No one could ever suggest Jean-Paul was an angel.

"You totally could," Alastair agreed with a devilish grin. "Or, you know, trash-talk people behind their backs, or plot a move-in on one of your less tech-savvy bad guys. Although there probably aren't a lot of those," he added with a shrug. "I tend to use it to keep the creepers off my ass, or tell people things I don't feel like just coming out and blathering about in public. Some people are all about sharing on the network..." This warrented a roll of his eyes. "...but not me."

He sat back in the chair and folded one leg over the other, lounging casually while he finished his coffee. "And what would a speedster need with a hot car anyway? Even though I bet Warren's probably got some nice ones. I've chatted with the guy once or twice, he seems decent. If a little bit on the squeaky-clean side..."

"Well, I prefer to trash-talk people to their faces," said Jean-Paul with a calm smile. "Their reactions are the most rewarding part. And I'm rarely the one who leads teams or plans the attacks or-" he waved a hand dismissively "-whatever it is they get all the credit for. I'm more about punching people in the face very, very fast."

Jean-Paul's feet were starting to tap almost of their own accord; apparently his caffeine buzz was kicking in. "It's not always about pure speed," he said. "As surprising as that might sound coming from me. There's nothing quite like a leisurely ride with the top down on a hot day." He didn't even bother hiding the innuendo in that one. "Worthington? He's...a good guy, I suppose. Ridiculously melodramatic about some things. Terrible businessman, for being so rich."

"Reeeeaaally." Alastair clearly approved of this philosophy, both on trash-talking and tops down on hot days. "You know, the more we talk, the more I'm sure you and I are going to get along very well, heh. So. You camping out with the X-Men at their place, or striking out on your own? I mean, since you've got a sort of team that has a place of its own, so you don't even have to think about crashing in the MAC."

"I don't think I've said a think nice thing into my comm since I got here," Jean-Paul said with a impish grin. "Well, except possibly to Kitty and Amara, and maybe Monet. I can't help it if the X-women are so much more likeable than the boys."

He kicked his chair back onto two legs again, making a face at Alistair. "The MAC? I was there for my first night while I sorted everything out with Cyclops, but I was leaving dust trails as soon as I could. They're...really not to my style, shall we say. What about you? Have Tony given you a penthouse yet?"

"I don't know if I've met any of them...well. No, I think I've met Kitty," Alastair mused, resting his chin on his hand. "Most of 'em are kinda close to my age so they just come off way too girly for me." He swirled what was left in the bottom of his cup idly - chocolate dregs, awesome. "Nah, I'm living in a nice flat with a couple of friends. It's all 'imports' like us on the 10th floor, and we're all real close. Kinda like family. We look out for each other, and Hiruma cuts us a break on the rent. Not a bad setup at all." He flashed another grin quickly. "I blew the bulk of my first paychecks on that Ducati."

"That does sound like a good set-up," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "Are the people you live with all from, uh, your world? Where you're from? Ugh, it's so hard to phrase these things properly."

He smiled at the revelation about the motorbike, though. "I can think of worse things to spend your first paycheck on, to be honest. At least a Ducati is legal. Usually."

"Usually," Alastair said with a sly sidelong look. He had actually upgraded from a Suzuki thanks to a little hacking. "Uh...well technically, two of them are. Sort of. Very different timelines though. Bakura and I have been swapping notes on our memories and we can't figure out what's different exactly, but since we'd never met before we both came here it kind of doesn't matter. The other's from like...thirty years into the future or something."

He scrunched up his nose in a mock thoughtful expression. "I suppose that's really not all that different from what you guys go through. At least from the sounds of people's posts, you're used to dimension-hopping. Us? Not so much."

"Ugh, don't speak to me about time travel." Jean-Paul stuck out his tongue, thoroughly disgusted. "Did you know the leader of the X-Men has two children from different timelines? Two! And one of them is older than he is! It's ridiculous!"

He had to laugh, really. "Perhaps that's why we have been able to band together so quickly here, though. We're almost used to such ridiculous things. Although I have to admit, people being swapped out for different versions of themselves came as a bit of a shock."

Alastair rubbed his forehead. "Ugh, tell me about it. I'm just glad the 'porter left most of my friends alone - the few that got switched were weird enough to handle. I hate that thing and every little stunt it pulls. It ruins relationships and tears friends apart, and just yanks people or sends them back at its whim. It sucks." He had to chuckle a little, though. "...okay, having a kid older than yourself is just weird. You guys can keep the market on that kind of nonsense, I'll stick with what I've got."

"I think some people are looking into it," Jean-Paul said casually. "The whole 'porter thing, I mean. I'm not too concerned about being here, but I'd like to at least know there's a consistent way of getting home. I'm...a little worried about my sister."

He glanced down at his comm again, then frowned. "Hm. I think it's time I was getting back to the Institute. I have team mates to terrorize."

"Don't worry too much," Alastair assured. "From what people say, you go right back to the exact moment you came from, so it's not like home goes on without you. Still. I know, doesn't mean you don't think about important people while you're stuck here."

He checked the bottom of his cup - yep, he had finished his coffee, too. "Yeah, I suppose. Well, at least you got me out of the house for a little while." Alastair smiled casually and made to grab his coat off the back of the chair. "It was fun. Glad we hung out for a bit."

"Yes, I'm glad we did this." Jean-Paul smiled. Normally he took longer to warm to people, keeping them at an icy distance until he was sure of their motives. Something about this kid, for some reason, appealed to him. Maybe he could see a little of himself in there, somewhere. He began to gather his things. "It will have to happen again. Or you could come visit the Institute, if your sanity can handle such madness."

"Maybe. If your pals drive you that crazy, you might want to get out now and then, and what do you know? I'm around somewhere." He got up and slipped into his leather jacket, and then located his sunglasses. He gave Jean-Paul one more big snarky grin as he swept the shades onto his face. "And as soon as it's warm enough to bust my bike out of winter storage, you're so on for a race. Count on it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jean-Paul said, rising to feet and zipping over to stand beside Alistair and clap a hand onto his shoulder. "As long as you do that same. Don't forget to come out and see sunlight every so often. I know what you computer-types are like."

He zipped over to the door, causing a slightly whirlwind of newspapers and napkins from the tables, and paused to look back over his shoulder with a grin. "And you're kidding yourself if you think you'll win any sort of race with me."

With that last little snipe, he zoomed off into the City.

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