Jean and Gabriel: Nightcap (Backdated)
Nov. 13th, 2021 01:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJean and Gabriel run into each other while in District X.
As he leaned against the brick wall of a bar in District X, cigarette in hand, Gabriel considered his options.
He had come into the city more out of a sense of duty than anything; he'd been keeping his distance from the office, and he was tired of hanging around the mansion anyway. The change of scenery felt good, so he thought he'd make a night of it. But a few drinks in, he wasn't so sure. The alcohol wasn't hitting him quite right; he didn't feel fun or melancholy or really anything. And the conversation he'd been having was sort of... stilted. Like something wasn't flowing.
Smoking, at least, was taking some of the edge off; he wondered why he'd ever quit. But he knew that this relief was only temporary. And the idea of a long trek back to Westchester didn't thrill him. But he wasn't about to hop in bed with someone, and he didn't relish the "let's catch up" conversation that would have come with asking to crash on a friend's couch. He flicked ash on the ground, then pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts as if he'd come up with a reasonable option.
"I'd say that smoking will kill you but there are things that'll do it a lot quicker in our line of work so it feels a bit hypocritical," a voice said. Jean stood in front of him, arms folded. She wore an emerald green sleeveless jumpsuit with a gold chain belt. A gold necklace shaped like a bird in flight hung around her neck. The superficial injuries had mostly healed, so the bruising was gone but that ever present little spark of warmth in her eyes seemed a bit dim.
"Can I try?" she said.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the request, then shrugged. He gave her the once-over as he fumbled with his phone and reached into his pocket for the pack. The necklace, he thought, was a curious choice, but he kept that thought to himself.
There was one cigarette left, and he weighed keeping it for himself before tapping it out and handing it to her. “Here,” he said. “I’ve got a light.” He paused, considering whether to acknowledge that he’d quit this bad habit but was back at it. “Dunno if it’ll be your thing,” he said instead.
Jean was silent for a moment. "Thanks. Never know if you like something until you try, I suppose," she said thoughtfully, rolling the cigarette back and forth between her index finger and thumb.
She glanced around. "Here alone?"
"Well, not anymore," Gabriel pointed out as he crushed the empty box in his hands and tossed it in a nearby trash can. "But yeah. I mean, you know, aside from chatting with people at the bar." He pulled his lighter out, watching her manipulate the cigarette. "You look nice," he said as he passed it to her.
"Thanks," Jean said, watching the smoke billow from the cigarette as the fire consumed the paper and tobacco, slowly leaving ash. She seemed to tense slightly before turning away and bringing the cigarette to her lips to take a drag. A moment passed, then came the coughing as a cloud of smoke erupted from her mouth and nose, which soon curled with disgust as she wordlessly passed the cigarette back to Gabriel.
"You were right," she finally wheezed.
Gabriel chuckled as he took the smoke back. "It happens from time to time." He stubbed it out against the brick wall and tucked it behind his ear. "What's the deal?" He said, dropping the butt of his own smoke on the ground and smashing it with his shoe. "You're in the market for bad habits? I can think of cheaper ones."
Jean shrugged. "I've never tried a cigarette but I always secretly wanted to. It always looked cool in the movies," she said. "Figured life is short, better finish that bucket list."
She scanned the bar, smiling slightly as a green-skinned woman stole a man's hat with her tail. Instead of looking surprised or angry, the man merely laughed and pulled the hat down, giving her a wink, followed by a call for two beers to the waitress. No one batted an eye at the variety of mutants in the room: the three eyed man, the gorilla-sized person watching a rerun of Bewitched on the bar TV, the four armed bartender. Everyone was welcome.
"Wanna take a walk?"
"Sure." It seemed like as much of a potential antidote to his apparent restlessness as anything else, and he needed new smokes anyway. Gabriel shoved everything back into his pockets. He gave her another once-over, weighing whether to speak his mind or not besides ultimately deciding to.
"Not for nothing," he said. "But I'm surprised to see you out so late."
Jean slipped her hands in her pockets as she walked. "I do have a life, you know," she mused, glancing over to him with a wry smile. "It even sometimes exists past midnight." She was silent for a moment or two.
"I quit working for Claremont."
"You — what?" He was genuinely floored. That Jean was a doctor dedicated to medicine was one of the few things that had carried over from one reality to the next. It had been remarkably reassuring. "Why?"
Slowing to a stop, Jean folded her arms. "It's...complicated," she admitted. "I guess I just needed some time to think. It's hard to do that when you're reminded of the time you almost got blown up by a bunch of bigots every time you go to work. And then turn around after that to find it gets even worse only a few days later..." She leaned against a wall. "Makes you start re-evaluating life."
Gabriel grunted in assent. He stuck his hands in his pockets, considering what to say next. He was aware they had not talked about what happened. (It wasn't that he was avoiding Jean, so much as that he wasn't going out of his way to speak to much of anyone.) "I guess I get that," he finally said. "I mean, on the scale of fucked up shit that we go though, that was..."
"Pretty high up there," Jean said. She stared up at the moon for a moment. "Sometimes I can detach myself. Pretend like it was some messed up movie."
Lowering her eyes, her attention flickered to the dark recesses of a nearby alley. "And then sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering if he's hiding in the shadows, ready to burn everything down."
She shrugged. "So when I can't sleep, I walk. Harry's got too depressing. And I like it here."
Gabriel wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Their experiences of the same thing were so different — this was something he had worked out with Charles when he couldn't figure out why his response to the end of the world had been what it was — and it spoke volumes, maybe, that he didn't even think the smell of charred flesh or the threat of death was the worst of it. But he didn't know how to explain it to her; it felt selfish.
"It's nice here," he finally said. "Familiar without being too familiar." In a split-second, he took the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. "And fewer parts of you that have to hide."
"Physically anyway," Jean said, watching the smoke curl up into the air. "A lot of mutants still get weary around telepaths. It's understandable."
She folded her arms. "Do you ever miss your life before the mansion?"
He took a long drag off the cigarette at that question. "No," he said after blowing smoke toward the sky.
Jean let out a quiet, awkward laugh from the matter-of-factness of the reply. "Fair point," she said. She let out a breath. He was the first person she'd seen after her resignation. She was still riding on the highs and lows of it. It had been a big part of her life for so long. With all the flurry of emotions everything felt meaningless, and important.
"Sorry...of course you wouldn't," she said, then paused, brushing a few strands of red hair behind one ear. "I'm thinking your beer might be better company in the long run. I can let you get back to it."
"What do you mean, 'of course I wouldn't'?" Gabriel asked, his eyebrow raised as he flicked ash to the ground. "I thought about it, didn't I?" He wasn't offended, exactly, but he thought that was pretty presumptuous of her. As if she, this Jean from a replacement universe, knew what life was like for him before. "Things were hard for me before. They're differently hard for me now. At least I've got people who kind of understand." That was as much explanation as he was willing to give her.
Folding her arms, Jean nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume. I guessed from your file. I read up on the people I'd be working with before the mission and--" she said. She looked away. There was a reason why she kept herself apart from people sometimes. Why it was hard to make friends. Because she liked to put her foot in her mouth. And because sometimes when she was buzzed she sensed things she shouldn't.
"I'm a dumbass," she said. She tossed her beer into the trash and turned on her heel, her shoe scraping across the concrete.
"And I should go. I'm going. Good night."
"I—" Gabriel sighed somewhat, considering whether to pursue her. But managing his own emotions, muddled as they were, was proving enough of a task. He didn't have the energy or the wherewithal to deal with hers.
"Don't leave," he said instead, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.. "I was heading elsewhere anyway. You want to be out late, you want to be here. Right now, honestly, I don't." He shrugged.
Gabriel knew he'd apologize to her later, but right then, it wouldn't have been sincere. So without giving her much of a chance to respond, he gave her a quick wave and, using his powers, dashed off and disappeared before she could object.
As he leaned against the brick wall of a bar in District X, cigarette in hand, Gabriel considered his options.
He had come into the city more out of a sense of duty than anything; he'd been keeping his distance from the office, and he was tired of hanging around the mansion anyway. The change of scenery felt good, so he thought he'd make a night of it. But a few drinks in, he wasn't so sure. The alcohol wasn't hitting him quite right; he didn't feel fun or melancholy or really anything. And the conversation he'd been having was sort of... stilted. Like something wasn't flowing.
Smoking, at least, was taking some of the edge off; he wondered why he'd ever quit. But he knew that this relief was only temporary. And the idea of a long trek back to Westchester didn't thrill him. But he wasn't about to hop in bed with someone, and he didn't relish the "let's catch up" conversation that would have come with asking to crash on a friend's couch. He flicked ash on the ground, then pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts as if he'd come up with a reasonable option.
"I'd say that smoking will kill you but there are things that'll do it a lot quicker in our line of work so it feels a bit hypocritical," a voice said. Jean stood in front of him, arms folded. She wore an emerald green sleeveless jumpsuit with a gold chain belt. A gold necklace shaped like a bird in flight hung around her neck. The superficial injuries had mostly healed, so the bruising was gone but that ever present little spark of warmth in her eyes seemed a bit dim.
"Can I try?" she said.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the request, then shrugged. He gave her the once-over as he fumbled with his phone and reached into his pocket for the pack. The necklace, he thought, was a curious choice, but he kept that thought to himself.
There was one cigarette left, and he weighed keeping it for himself before tapping it out and handing it to her. “Here,” he said. “I’ve got a light.” He paused, considering whether to acknowledge that he’d quit this bad habit but was back at it. “Dunno if it’ll be your thing,” he said instead.
Jean was silent for a moment. "Thanks. Never know if you like something until you try, I suppose," she said thoughtfully, rolling the cigarette back and forth between her index finger and thumb.
She glanced around. "Here alone?"
"Well, not anymore," Gabriel pointed out as he crushed the empty box in his hands and tossed it in a nearby trash can. "But yeah. I mean, you know, aside from chatting with people at the bar." He pulled his lighter out, watching her manipulate the cigarette. "You look nice," he said as he passed it to her.
"Thanks," Jean said, watching the smoke billow from the cigarette as the fire consumed the paper and tobacco, slowly leaving ash. She seemed to tense slightly before turning away and bringing the cigarette to her lips to take a drag. A moment passed, then came the coughing as a cloud of smoke erupted from her mouth and nose, which soon curled with disgust as she wordlessly passed the cigarette back to Gabriel.
"You were right," she finally wheezed.
Gabriel chuckled as he took the smoke back. "It happens from time to time." He stubbed it out against the brick wall and tucked it behind his ear. "What's the deal?" He said, dropping the butt of his own smoke on the ground and smashing it with his shoe. "You're in the market for bad habits? I can think of cheaper ones."
Jean shrugged. "I've never tried a cigarette but I always secretly wanted to. It always looked cool in the movies," she said. "Figured life is short, better finish that bucket list."
She scanned the bar, smiling slightly as a green-skinned woman stole a man's hat with her tail. Instead of looking surprised or angry, the man merely laughed and pulled the hat down, giving her a wink, followed by a call for two beers to the waitress. No one batted an eye at the variety of mutants in the room: the three eyed man, the gorilla-sized person watching a rerun of Bewitched on the bar TV, the four armed bartender. Everyone was welcome.
"Wanna take a walk?"
"Sure." It seemed like as much of a potential antidote to his apparent restlessness as anything else, and he needed new smokes anyway. Gabriel shoved everything back into his pockets. He gave her another once-over, weighing whether to speak his mind or not besides ultimately deciding to.
"Not for nothing," he said. "But I'm surprised to see you out so late."
Jean slipped her hands in her pockets as she walked. "I do have a life, you know," she mused, glancing over to him with a wry smile. "It even sometimes exists past midnight." She was silent for a moment or two.
"I quit working for Claremont."
"You — what?" He was genuinely floored. That Jean was a doctor dedicated to medicine was one of the few things that had carried over from one reality to the next. It had been remarkably reassuring. "Why?"
Slowing to a stop, Jean folded her arms. "It's...complicated," she admitted. "I guess I just needed some time to think. It's hard to do that when you're reminded of the time you almost got blown up by a bunch of bigots every time you go to work. And then turn around after that to find it gets even worse only a few days later..." She leaned against a wall. "Makes you start re-evaluating life."
Gabriel grunted in assent. He stuck his hands in his pockets, considering what to say next. He was aware they had not talked about what happened. (It wasn't that he was avoiding Jean, so much as that he wasn't going out of his way to speak to much of anyone.) "I guess I get that," he finally said. "I mean, on the scale of fucked up shit that we go though, that was..."
"Pretty high up there," Jean said. She stared up at the moon for a moment. "Sometimes I can detach myself. Pretend like it was some messed up movie."
Lowering her eyes, her attention flickered to the dark recesses of a nearby alley. "And then sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering if he's hiding in the shadows, ready to burn everything down."
She shrugged. "So when I can't sleep, I walk. Harry's got too depressing. And I like it here."
Gabriel wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Their experiences of the same thing were so different — this was something he had worked out with Charles when he couldn't figure out why his response to the end of the world had been what it was — and it spoke volumes, maybe, that he didn't even think the smell of charred flesh or the threat of death was the worst of it. But he didn't know how to explain it to her; it felt selfish.
"It's nice here," he finally said. "Familiar without being too familiar." In a split-second, he took the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. "And fewer parts of you that have to hide."
"Physically anyway," Jean said, watching the smoke curl up into the air. "A lot of mutants still get weary around telepaths. It's understandable."
She folded her arms. "Do you ever miss your life before the mansion?"
He took a long drag off the cigarette at that question. "No," he said after blowing smoke toward the sky.
Jean let out a quiet, awkward laugh from the matter-of-factness of the reply. "Fair point," she said. She let out a breath. He was the first person she'd seen after her resignation. She was still riding on the highs and lows of it. It had been a big part of her life for so long. With all the flurry of emotions everything felt meaningless, and important.
"Sorry...of course you wouldn't," she said, then paused, brushing a few strands of red hair behind one ear. "I'm thinking your beer might be better company in the long run. I can let you get back to it."
"What do you mean, 'of course I wouldn't'?" Gabriel asked, his eyebrow raised as he flicked ash to the ground. "I thought about it, didn't I?" He wasn't offended, exactly, but he thought that was pretty presumptuous of her. As if she, this Jean from a replacement universe, knew what life was like for him before. "Things were hard for me before. They're differently hard for me now. At least I've got people who kind of understand." That was as much explanation as he was willing to give her.
Folding her arms, Jean nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume. I guessed from your file. I read up on the people I'd be working with before the mission and--" she said. She looked away. There was a reason why she kept herself apart from people sometimes. Why it was hard to make friends. Because she liked to put her foot in her mouth. And because sometimes when she was buzzed she sensed things she shouldn't.
"I'm a dumbass," she said. She tossed her beer into the trash and turned on her heel, her shoe scraping across the concrete.
"And I should go. I'm going. Good night."
"I—" Gabriel sighed somewhat, considering whether to pursue her. But managing his own emotions, muddled as they were, was proving enough of a task. He didn't have the energy or the wherewithal to deal with hers.
"Don't leave," he said instead, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.. "I was heading elsewhere anyway. You want to be out late, you want to be here. Right now, honestly, I don't." He shrugged.
Gabriel knew he'd apologize to her later, but right then, it wouldn't have been sincere. So without giving her much of a chance to respond, he gave her a quick wave and, using his powers, dashed off and disappeared before she could object.
