Jean Wolfe
July 18, 2020 10:43 PM
Merry Thank Yous by Jean Wolfe
Jean-Loup made his way through the corridors upon his arrival back at Sonora, the morning after the rest of the school had returned. He carried a white cardboard box in his hands, holding it carefully in spite of the fact that he knew it to be well charmed against being bumped, crushed or anything else that might have impacted the quality of the contents. A smiliar box had been prsented to Ms. Katey, but he had extracted himself from that interaction as quickly as he could manage without it being rude. He did not have a set appointment with Mr. Row, but he was sure he had said something about checking in at the start of term, and Jean-Loup was happy to make that a priority.It was a little odd to be back at Sonora. It had always felt somewhat borrowed, he supposed. He was glad to be here, but it belonged to Dorian really. That hadn't been a problem before but he was now rather more aware of it. Greece had felt different. In spite of being filled again with Dorian's connections, it had felt somehow much more of an even footing. Dorian didn't have that much of a headstart with Darius and Evangeline for one thing, and for another Jean-Loup thought he had overall adapted to the experience better than his boyfriend had. Dorian had ben torn in two, caring about the people he had been with but acutely aware of what he had turned his back on. He felt guilty. It hadn't been such a problem for Jean-Loup. He was aware that might sound callous or terrible but as far as he was concerned, he had spent the holidays with all the people in the world who loved him. So, what was there to miss? The only thing in the way of him being happy there was Dorian's unhappiness, and the two days at the end of the break where Dorian had returned to see his family, and where Jean-Loup had possibly left a permanent track in the floor of the hotel as he paced anxiously about. But Dorian was fine. He had called on the first night. He had written last night, to confirm that he was back at school, and that he was fine. Jean-Loup would have liked to verify that with his own eyes (and hands and lips) but he would have to be a little bit patient on that front.
He knocked on Mr. Row's door, entering when called, and offered him a tentaively genuine smile.
"Merry Christmas," he stated, holding out the box. He knew that Mr. Row had helped Dorian with letters to Evalngeline and with understanding working arrangements and contracts and so on - for all that it had been an informal arrangement between friends, it had been a good chance to practise some of those skills. So, he knew exactly where and how Dorian and Jean-Loup had spent their break, and thus opening the box to find a large quantity of baklava might not have been too surprising. They were as much gratitude for his assistance as they were a Christmas gift. "Or thank you, whichever you prefer," he added, in case Mr. Row felt odd about receiving a Christmas gift from him. He was not sure anyone could remain too discontent in the face of a large box of baklava though. It was good stuff too. He had considered the more long distance variety they sold for tourists - as he was back a day later than everyone else, he wasn't sure how well it would hold up, and whilst preserving charms were common enough, he wasn't sure how well he trusted his own. If they went wrong, the worst they did was not really work, and he wasn't sure there was anything in baklava that could turn too nasty, but even if there wasn't a real risk of food poisoning, he thought that a box of stale pastries still wasn't an ideal gift. Luckily, Evangeline trusted her wandwork in that area, and had happily helped him out with a fresh tray from their suppliers rather than having him spend more money for less quality in the tourist trap shops.
"How is your vacation?" he asked politely.
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Jean Wolfe
Merry Thank Yous
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Killian Row
July 18, 2020 11:11 PM
And congratu-new year! by Killian Row
Killian's holiday had been generally not great, but it was a bit like the night sky. Amidst the dark and the cold and the bleak were shooting stars and planets on the horizon, lining up to give a Seer somewhere a good time. Sometimes, there were even glimpses of the aurora borealis, literally and figuratively. There were also eclipses (just figuratively this time), such as the fact that they never did find Lorcan. Killian felt the worst for Bonabelle who seemed to be as concerned as the rest of the Row family, which was to say that she was not very concerned. Killian hadn't known for sure whether Lorcan had pulled himself together for the sake of his baby girl and it seemed from her callous acceptance of circumstances that he had not. He hated to think of how well she had eaten any of those weeks he was gone. A little girl, alone in a flat, caring for her 'sick' father was a terrible image indeed.Marsh' continued weight on Killian's mind had become almost obtrusive, largely because he wasn't sure what to make of it. Killian had never been so preoccupied with a single person and he wasn't sure whether he could chock that up to stress and his mind's need to find a happy place, or if there was more to it than that. It was not a button he wanted to push as he'd prefer to be sure than anything in this case. Besides, he had the advantage of not being a teenager; patience and the lack of looming graduation were beneficial to his approach to whatever it was that he was feeling.
That being said, he wasn't really that much less blubbery than his students, because when a knock sounded at his door, it was a strangled sort of yelp that came out to let the person in. He was oddly disappointed to find Jean-Loup there, although it was not a feeling that reached his expression, for it was replaced too quickly with happiness. He felt a little guilty to think that he might have essentially Frankensteined his own friend into existence by doing what he could to give the young man a leg up in the world, but he liked to think that Jean-Loup came by because he liked his company and not because he thought he owed him any sort of life debt.
"Hey!" Killian grinned when Jean-Loup entered the room. "And merry Christmas to you, too!" he added. His eyes widened with surprise and glee when Jean-Loup gave him a white box and he opened it to reveal friggin' baklava!!! Knowing that the intern had spent his holiday abroad meant Killian knew he was about to have an awesome time with this thing. "Thank you so much! Do you want to have some with me?" he asked, eager to dive in.
Of course, he had brought his own share of baked goods back with him as well. His father wasn't much of a baker but his mother was and Killian wasn't the only Row who found a welcome destruction in the bottom of a bag of flour. "Honestly, I could use the help getting through some of this other stuff. I'll eat this if you want to eat those," he grinned, hoping to make a bargain out of it by offering cake, cookies, or pie. Shame that magical expanding charms worked better on his suitcases than his stomach.
Jean-Loup offered a thank you and Killian resisted the urge to frown, turning his face instead into something more playful. The last thing he wanted was to be repeatedly stuck in a power dynamic with someone who was, generally, on equal footing with him, socially. He didn't even like that dynamic with people who were arguably not on equal footing with him. "No, no thanking me," he replied lightly. "Really, I should thank you! I could use some company."
The topic turned to how the break went, as it was wont to do immediately following such an event, and Killian took a moment to serve desserts as were desired. He was pretty sure Jean-Loup wasn't so much of a sweets person as he was and he felt a little bad for basically having the inside of the witch's house from Hansel and Gretel to offer, but it was the best he could do in the moment.
"A little rough," he finally said, deciding on honesty. "But it was nice to spend time with my niece and my parents. How was yours? Did you enjoy Greece?"
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Killian Row
And congratu-new year!
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Jean Wolfe
July 19, 2020 1:01 AM
I have no more word plays by Jean Wolfe
"Your gift, your choice," Jean-Loup smiled, when offered part of the present he had given. That was a common enough society thing that he knew how to remain politely ambivalent and leave it up to Mr. Row.Mr. Row, it seemed, had been home. Jean-Loup would have guessed this anyway before he announced it, not least because it was the most likely option for how someone would spend the holidays. He was also fairly sure that having an entire bakery in your office was the sort of thing that happened if you had a certain kind of family. Also he thought Mr. Row's accent might be a little thicker, although it may have just been his own ears being out of practise.
"I can help with something small," he confirmed. Maugris, did he need a lean chicken salad and a fruit platter for lunch though. He was used to having a fairly high calorie diet because he worked out a lot, but he was far more used to them coming from protein and complex carbs than from fat and sugar. "It is Christmas until we finish talk about it, or until Christmas food is gone, correct?" he checked his understanding of the rules, which he assumed transcended cultural divides.
He decided not to argue with the notion that he should not be thanking Mr. Row because he wasn't sure how to do so politely, but he also didn't plan to stop any time soon. He seemed to be being treated as 'company' rather than 'responsibility' which was nice, if unexpected. He supposed it was down to that strange not quite student, not yet adult zone that Jean-Loup occupied, though Mr. Row seemed to be putting him more firmly in one category than the other.
"Oh," he took a beat to process what Mr. Row had told him, more out of surprise that he would admit this out loud to Jean-Loup than due to any kind of difficulty understanding - that part was simple, as the words were clear enough, as was the concept of a rough holiday. "I am sorry to hear," he stated gently. "Greece was very nice, mostly," he answered. Vague remarks about how he could demonstrate additional responsibilities on his college applications played through his mind but they didn't seem to be talking in that way right now.
He wasn't totally sure what to do with Mr. Row's admission. He noticed that he had enjoyed spending time with his parents and niece, which implied a sibling who was either absent or unpleasant to be around. That was a familiar theme, in some ways. It was certainly something he had had to comfort Dorian about. But Dorian was his peer and his boyfriend. He wasn't really sure what to do with an adult, a real one, simply admitting a feeling, outside of the context of emotional blackmail.
"Family can be difficult," he said cautiously, trying not to eye the baked goods again and wonder whether they were to compensate for guilt. It wasn't how his own mother operated but he was pretty sure that would have been Mrs. Montoir's response to a crisis. "Do you want to talk?" he asked, his tone betraying the fact that he thought this unlikely, or that he thought he risked crossing a line by asking. In his experience, problems were things that you swept under rugs and pretended not to have. But then, if you were wanting to do that, you did what everyone did and said your holidays had been fine, even if you'd spent them wanting to hit your head against a wall.
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Jean Wolfe
I have no more word plays
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Killian Row
July 20, 2020 12:39 AM
Same, I think. by Killian Row
Killian grinned. "I think it's Christmas until the next Christmas eve," he decided with a laugh. "I like how you think."It was interesting talking to Jean-Loup because Killian suspected that a lot was lost in translation. Probably more was lost in translation than was actually translated with any success. Jean-Loup was very funny and had a good sense of humor. Killian liked to think he also possessed these traits, but they were pushed and stretched when confronted with a non-native speaker of English, as he was limited in his ability to make a palpable hit this way. It was nice to see it land, and nice when Jean-Loup quipped back.
"Thanks," Killian replied lightly to the platitudes about his misadventurous holiday. "I'm glad you enjoyed your trip mostly." He moved his desk chair around to the other side so he and Jean-Loup could sit together, as equals. He was about to ask whether Jean-Loup wanted to talk when the intern beat him to it.
Family being difficult was a subject Killian knew well, although not as well, he thought, as Jean-Loup or Dorian did. It broke his heart to think of young people suffering these sorts of challenges but he knew it was inevitable in some cases. As long as the world went 'round, there would be family problems for folks. He found himself nodding in avid agreement. "Family can be difficult," he repeated.
The younger man didn't really sound like he knew how to put feelings in the air, and much less what to do with them when they were there. Killian remembered the stunted way his own father tried to express himself over the break and knew, as he had always known, that he wanted to do better than that. At the same time, he didn't want to, nor did he think it would be appropriate to, dive into a family history lesson and start talking about Bonabelle's father to someone who would engage with her at some point.
"It's a lot of the same for me," he began, taking a sip of tea. "But it's a bit . . . overwhelming. I feel like I didn't get any rest at all this break." For a moment, he let a little more of his authentic self show, with all the tiredness and hopelessness that included in the face of the present situation. Then he put it away again, like an old jar of gross specimens on a dusty shelf. "It is nice to be back in some ways," he smiled lightly.
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Killian Row
Same, I think.
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Jean Wolfe
July 20, 2020 4:11 AM
Oh. What now? by Jean Wolfe
"That is too much Christmas," Jean-Loup corrected with a grimace, but also a smile because they were joking around. One Christmas was usually bad enough, but Mr. Row possibly just meant the food. That was one of the better parts, but he was usually done with it by the time the holidays ended. The cake did look new and interesting, and he could possibly find some polite common ground about how with cake this good, he could understand the wish for Christmas to go on. Though that depended on who had made it, whether it was guilt-cake, and how badly they had upset Mr. Row. He didn't care how good it was - if they had done hurtful things, they did not deserve nice things to be said about their baking.Mr. Row was definitely making himself comfortable. Or at least, less formal. Jean-Loup was going to wait and see how the two of them sitting down and talking about their problems panned out in terms of 'comfort.'
He listened carefully, and luckily Mr. Row did not say very much, though the little he had presented caused enough confusion. It was... the same? And he had not got rest? That made it sound like he had worked too much during the holidays, but he had said family was the problem and that he was glad to be back.
"The same as... for me and Dorian?" he asked, guessing at the only other option he could see, though regreting it immediately after saying it. He was fairly sure that was going to be a vastly wrong and possibly even offensive guess. "Sorry, probably this is not what you meant..." he added, shaking his head apologetically to dismiss the remark.
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Jean Wolfe
Oh. What now?
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Killian Row
July 20, 2020 11:36 AM
I think we hang out if you want. by Killian Row
"No need to apologise," Killian promised with a smile, realising his mistake upon hearing Jean-Loup's clarifying questions. "Not quite like yours and Dorian's situation. I meant that it's the same family problems that have always come up for me. Sorry, that wasn't particularly clear."Of course, it couldn't have been clear. Because Killian, on the whole, didn't share details of his family. He had told Gray some of it, Marsh a little of it, and Ellie some, but he didn't generally go around talking about it too much more than that. He certainly didn't talk about he felt about it all.
Which was ridiculous because he had a lot of feelings and he wanted to put them somewhere. Like in a box, where he could smash them. But for now, that wasn't an option. Bonabelle needed and deserved a more stable family than she'd had before and he was a part of that now, even if he hardly knew his niece and had only met her less than a year previously. It would be nice, he thought, to get to know her better. It would also be nice if she disappeared and he could forget that any of his brother's life had ever left a mark on the world. The girl was practically an orphan, albeit one with a wider family to connect with, and that simply wasn't fair.
"Do you want to talk about how things went for you and Dorian with your family stuff?" Killian asked, happy both to change the subject away from himself and to give Jean-Loup an opportunity to express himself. Such opportunities were rarely taken if not presented explicitly, Killian had noticed, especially for the more reserved of Sonora's residents. "You make good company," he added with another easy, authentic smile. "It's nice to chat."
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Killian Row
I think we hang out if you want.
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Jean Wolfe
July 20, 2020 9:33 PM
Sure... by Jean Wolfe
"Sorry," Jean-Loup apologised, even though Mr. Row said there was no need to. He recognised this as the dance of each trying to put the other at ease, to smooth over the mistake together. It didn't occur to him that Mr. Row might genuinely mean that he shouldn't feel bad. "It is not particularly polite for me to come into your office and suggest you are..." he trailed off, not quite sure what words to put on the end of that sentence, "not normal," he tried.Whatever Mr. Row's problem was, it was clearly long term, and that was another area where he could somewhat relate. His own issues had bubbled steadily under the surface for a long time. They had been put out in the open when he was twelve, dealt with and then not talked about again. And he was never sure whether his parents had been fully convinced they had set him back on the straight and narrow or whether they were all just pretending he was fine. He certainly had been.
Speaking of which, it was apparently his turn to talk. He weighed up Mr. Row's offer. It seemed genuine, although the guidance teacher hadn't really gone into details himself, which made him wonder how much he was supposed to share back.
"My family stuff is..." he mimed drawing a line through the air with a shrug. "I went to Greece. We did not talk. I am not sad or guilty. Maybe that seems like I am horrible person," he stated. He thought that Dorian had some doubts about the firmness and absoluteness with which Jean-Loup felt able to close that door. But they had all played all their cards, and this was where they were. Did it hurt that Charlotte, whom he had always defended seemed to have turned her back on him? Yes. Did it hurt that he felt like his mother was willing to call his bluff on the things he had said? Of course. But that was why he wanted to keep a tight lid on all of it. Nothing had changed. The definition of insanity was doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. Admittedly, the most recent conversation he had had with his father had gone better than others and there was some degree of support there, but Jean-Loup felt the best option was not to test the strength of that by having any further interactions. Plus it felt like a somewhat phyrric victory that winning his dad over amounted to him not wanting Jean-Loup dead or destitute.
"Dorian feels more... mix?" he suggested, not sure of the word but also hesitating over how much to make Dorian's business the subject of conversation. Still, how Dorian felt was a huge part of how he felt. And it wasn't like he had anyone except Dorian to unload on normally. He had realised fairly quickly that trying to express his concerns to Dorian just made him more upset because it furthered the sense of being pulled in two. "This is the only part that is not good. And he goes back, two days at the end," he grimaced, "He calls. We are with Professor Brooding-Hawthornes. So, he is allowed to call to her," he stated, a slight hint of bitterness in his voice - not towards the Professor, it was very convenient to have her in the same place so that the pretext of a call to her could be one to Jean-Loup as well, but at the fact that such a ruse was needed. That his boyfriend wasn't allowed to call him. "And I have a note from him last night. He is fine..." he stated again, sounding like he was reassuring himself of that fact.
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Jean Wolfe
Sure...
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Killian Row
July 20, 2020 9:50 PM
No really. by Killian Row
Killian smiled, although it sort of sucked a bunch. Jean-Loup was by far one of the saddest people he'd ever met, not because he was sad himself but because his story was. There was something tragic about an barely-legal young man so obviously emotionally stunted by whatever the heck he had been through. Killian could think of a few things he had probably been through and some he knew of for sure, but it hardly served to explain away all of Jean-Loup's tendencies. Killian wasn't sure how he felt about being any sort of role model against toxic masculinity, but if that was where this had come to then he supposed he would take the job."I'm far from normal," Killian grinned. He cocked his head a little, considering. "But I am also very lucky that my not being straight has never been an issue for my parents. I haven't dated much but they've never had a problem with any of my boyfriends or girlfriends, and I know that I'm very lucky for that. Although they were a little uncomfortable when I brought home two people at the same time . . ." That wasn't something Killian wanted to think too much about, especially when his head was all abuzz with thoughts of two other people at the same time. That being said, there was a difference between sincerely desiring a relationship with someone and just finding them generally attractive. Of course, that distinction didn't help at all in his current predicament.
He was pleasantly surprised when Jean-Loup opened up some. "I don't think it makes you a horrible person," he affirmed. "I think that people should generally take care of themselves before worrying about people who actively cause them pain." He nodded more in understanding when Jean-Loup spoke of Dorian's feelings. He could relate there to a greater degree. He had spent quite a bit of time avoiding home and avoiding his family because of the pain it caused him to be around them, only to find that the pain he was feeling was sourced in his own chest. He suspected the opposite was true for Dorian and there was probably not much either Jean-Loup or Killian could do about that. "That's really frustrating," Killian agreed with Jean-Loup's tone about the arrangement in place for Dorian to be able to call on his own boyfriend. He smiled a little though at something that stood out to him in the story. "Did you call them both 'Professor Brooding-Hawthorne' the whole time? I think you can safely call staff at Sonora by their first names, you know," he offered playfully. Then a thought struck him and he paused. "Unless you prefer 'Mr. Arceneaux'?"
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Killian Row
No really.
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Jean Wolfe
July 21, 2020 6:31 AM
You might regret that by Jean Wolfe
CW - homophobia, allusions to violence, casual references to suicideThe word ‘straight’ might easily have gone over Jean-Loup’s head, especially in the context of a convoluted sentence and in that accent. The phrase ‘boyfriends or girlfriends’ however did not. Nor did ‘two people at the same time.’
“I see,” he said, using the same polite and certain tone he used when someone described an unfamiliar medical symptom to him. In that situation, he needed to remain calm and collected, not make them feel like a freak, and work out what they heck was going on and how to deal with it. His face was still pleasant but it had definitely snapped back to the carefully crafted neutrality that he wore for being a healer, or a society son, or any of the other roles he was forced to play. It was a non-reactiveness that might have not been very noticeable had Mr. Row not had a chance to study his face being anything but that for the last few minutes.
He was fairly sure that, linguistically, he had understood the information Mr. Row had just imparted to him but his first assumption was still to assume that he had not. However ‘Let me clarify, you enjoy both men and women, sometimes simultaneously?’ seemed far too blunt a thing to say, even when he could hide behind the excuse of imperfect English.
“That sounds varied,” he managed, in the same tone, unsure how to explore this common ground. It felt less comfortable than he had imagined to find himself on it. Common ground was usually a good thing, but this felt peculiar. He supposed, on some level, it made sense. The liking men part, anyway. The one thing that he’d never been able to work out was why Mr. Row was quite so nice to him, but maybe this was why. There was some sort of empathy there, even if he hadn’t been through Jean-Loup’s situation with his own family - it was the same feeling that had moved him to be protective of Freddie.
He wasn’t sure whether he was required to say anything more, but there were the threads of family and professors and names, and he was much more able to talk about those. Although his brain still turned over what he’d been told whilst he chatted.
“Yes,” he agreed, when Mr. Row described the situation as frustrating. He chewed on his resentment for a second more before spitting it out, “She liked me. Before,” he stated, his voice hard and flat, “Nice boy. Good influence. Sweet of me, being so friendly, and it makes Dorian happy. Guess there is too much with a good thing,” he stated bitterly. If she had been neutral or ambivalent towards him, he thought he could have taken her anger a lot better. It was what he had expected after all. But to have her whole opinion on him turn based on the fact he loved Dorian - she had been able to see how they made each other light up, she had been happy about it, and then she had switched to wanting to take it away because Jean-Loup loved him too much.
Admittedly, he had also broken her older son’s nose, but Matthieu had deserved it.
That was, he could admit, deep in the nasty bit of his own brain that thought terrible things, part of his problem with Dorian going back. He knew that Dorian thought he could talk to them. That fixing it would mean fixing it for both of them, so that they accepted Jean-Loup too. But it was also giving second, third, and fourth chances to people who don’t want them to see each other. And if Dorian succeeded, Jean-Loup had to find it in himself to forgive all that, and everything Mrs. Montoir had done or let happen to Dorian, and that left him with the worst choice in the world… If he rooted for a family reuinion, he had to be able to do that, and he wasn’t sure he could. But the alternative was hoping that Dorian’s family finally did something that broke his heart so badly he would close the door and not look back. He didn’t want to see a part of Dorian that believed in love become hard and hopeless. He didn’t want that to have to change about the sweet little squishy person that he loved. Dorian going home had to force him to chew over the fact that he had no idea which of those horrible outcomes he was rooting for. And that was when he wasn’t worrying about a third even worse possibility. Active harm, as Mr. Row had put it. He was not familiar with the phrase but it made sense in context. The fact that one slip in the Montoirs’ vigilence could take Dorian away from all of them forever.
“But yet he goes back,” he sighed, “With Matthieu there. In summer, it was never together - the summer, they keep them apart. But now… They accept that Dorian will not speak to him, but to speak to them he goes to the house where Matthieu is. He reconciles with his Mama and his sister and then what - they do two separate things for every birthday and holiday? The more he goes back to them-” he cut the sentence off, not even liking to talk about the idea of Dorian and Matthieu being forced into each other’s company. “Here is okay. Here is the first place that is far enough.
“For what you said about family...” he added, realising they’d sidetracked into Dorian’s and hadn’t really dealt with his own. Dorian saw it as deeply tragic than Jean-Loup was giving up on his own family but to him it had been a welcome breath of air to be able to do that. Clearly Mr. Row empathised with the idea of Dorian not going back, and he had said Jean-Loup was not a horrible person but he had mentioned in the context of active harm. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Row had meant one or both of them or whether he himself had said something to give the wrong impression about what went on in his own home. “It applies too with… I suppose the other one is passive harm?” he guessed. “No one attacks you but they… give you this feeling like… maybe, preferable to staying with them, is jumping off a bridge?” he checked, his tone detached and casual, “I think better not to go back then,” he concluded, before switching to lighter matters as if he’d just mentioned nothing more serious than a bad headache.
“To their face, I just call ‘excuse me,’” he answered when he was asked about what he called the Professors. “I think Tabeesa or Ms ‘Awssorn will not turn when I call her names anyway,” he smiled, deliberately exaggerating his own accent. Marie he thought might be a little more accommodating. He knew that was not her name but he found it hard to change without putting on some ridiculous cowboy accent, and the combination of using his natural tone of voice and speaking at speed kept making it indistinguishable however much he tried. “Dorian calls them Professor, so with him, yes. With Darius et Evangeline, non. But by the end of the trip, I am calling their daughter ‘Canteloupe’ anyway, so I think maybe no one is very particular about names,” he offered. His mouth twitched in a smile as he was addressed more formally. It normally wouldn’t have made him smile, having all the hallmarks of home, but for one thing. “With your accent, maybe I don’t mind. It’s… fun?” he tried, hoping he wasn’t choosing a word with any insulting quality. “But I think I prefer to be Jean-Loup.”
There was a prickle on the back of his neck, which he had ascribed to stirring up all his feelings about the Montoirs. But as he talked about names, as his mind relaxed and left him more space for what… Killian had said, he felt it more strongly. He thought it might just be the… unusualness of the situation, and not being quite sure what to do with it. Other than Dorian, he had knowingly been in the presence of one other guy who liked other guys. They’d both been boys, at that point, and the other’s boy’s reaction had been to roughly and longingly make out with Jean-Loup a couple of times before telling on him… Presumably, that was not what was about to happen here.
Probably. He supposed that Killian might have had ulterior motives for being nice but it didn’t seem very kind to think so.
13
Jean Wolfe
You might regret that
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Killian Row
July 21, 2020 6:37 PM
Don't make me. by Killian Row
Killian was well accustomed to homophobia and had his thickest skin at the ready for Jean-Loup's reaction, whatever that might be. You didn't simply whip out some 'fun facts' with someone like Jean-Loup and expect them to go over exactly well, especially when you held a role like Killian's. However much he would have preferred to be just Killian during this conversation, he doubted that was the perception. He smiled softly, with liquid eyes. "Polyamory - wanting relationships with multiple people at the same time, with all of them knowing about it and agreeing to it - isn't everyone's cup of tea," he acknowledged kindly. "Me mam looked at me a bit like that when I told her, too," he added, smirking a little.He was surprised, although he shouldn't have been, at Jean-Loup's bitter voice. It was a bit of a shock to hear from someone who was usually so reserved and well-mannered, and Killian found that he appreciated it as a form of honesty more than anything else. It was, unfortunately, a good reminder for Killian that he did not know everyone's life. As much as he tried to help and as many pies as he had fingers in, he didn't ultimately know what it was like to experience the things his students - and now his young colleagues - experienced.
That being said, he was in the difficult position of having a wealth of opinions about the sorts of people Dorian's family sounded like they were, and having a responsibility to be neutral-ish for Dorian. For Jean-Loup, he could be whatever. They were colleagues. But for his student . . . Well, that was complicated. It didn't seem right to talk about the sort of beneath-the-surface, brimming bigotry that people like Mrs. Dorian's-Mom survived on, because that was Jean-Loup's life that he was commenting on. Not his own. At the same time . . . on this day at this time, Killian didn't give a single flying snitch.
"They sound sort of awful," he said quietly. "I'm not working right now. Can I say that? What's up with Mathieu? I'm glad you have here."
The conversation turned darker very quickly and Killian silently cursed himself for stepping into the casual box because now it would be really weird to step back out of it and talk about resources like the guidance counselor. He supposed he could give resources as a friend though. Not that his personal recommendations had ever helped Lorcan. Or anyone.
"You shouldn't have to put up with that," Killian said firmly but kindly, frowning. "And no bridge-jumping. I'm a terrible flier and I don't think anyone wants me to add 'catch' to my list of job duties," he smirked, hoping to match Jean-Loup's disturbingly light tone. It was a paradox he understood well.
He burst out laughing at the idea of little 'Cantaloupe' and grinned mischievously at the comment on his accent. Conversations with this one were definitely a fierce ride of emotions. "My accent has been called a lot of things, but not usually 'fun'. I think I like it!" he laughed. "Jean-Loup," he agreed softly. It was a name he had practiced because it was a name that was stinking hard to say, so he was pretty sure he said it right, which was exciting. "I have to be real with you . . . I hate 'Mr. Row'. I sound like a fish egg. R-O-E is fish eggs." He made a face. "I don't think Mr. Fish Egg is a good name at all. 'Killian' is much better."
22
Killian Row
Don't make me.
1450
0
5
Jean Wolfe
July 22, 2020 6:53 AM
Okay, feelings back in their bottles. Sorry for the mess. by Jean Wolfe
"I do not look at you like anything," Jean-Loup replied, a touch put out that his non-reaction was being accused of being something, "If I frown, it is at English not you," he clarified, in case he had been doing that. He had certainly felt his brows knit together slightly at an unfamiliar word and the fact that tea was apparently relevant in ways he did not fully understand. He leant his head back against the top of his chair so that he was looking up at the ceiling and could try to process the remarks with less scrutiny. Killian had already admitted this was not exactly 'normal' so it wasn't wrong to find it strange."Your life," he shrugged, not sure he was capable of getting his head fully around the situation right now but not wanting confusion to be mistaken for judgement, "Some I do not understand - drinking tea and enjoying girls mostly,” he tried hiding behind a grin and a joke, “Not very enjoyable to me, but as you like.”
It played through his mind that his first impression of Mr- Killian had been that he was pretty good looking. That had just felt like a flash of hormonal bad judgement. It...pretty much was. He hadn't formed any deeper feeling and certainly no desire to act on it. He just sort...couldn't help but notice. Did it change anything that any kind of similar opinion may have been formed in return? If so, did it really matter? Killian had control of Jean-Loup’s employment and his future. Perhaps that should have frightened him. But it was really no different than any other situation he’d been in. One way or another, someone else pulled your strings. So far, Killian was treating him more to Jean-Loup’s liking than anyone else ever had.
Anyway, Mr... Killian was responsible for him, much as Jean-Loup was responsible for his patients. You didn't cross that line, whatever you felt. He hadn't when Dorian had been his patient. And he would have helped him regardless. Sure, it had helped that Dorian was cute and might think well of him after but it hadn't, he hoped, changed how he had behaved. Maybe the fact that Jean-Loup had a nice face had made it easier to want to help him. Well, so what? If he wasn’t going to have money or connections in his favour, it helped to have something. Liking how he looked wouldn’t be the worst thing anyone had thought about him. At least it was complimentary.
“Émilie is okay,” he admitted fairly, when Killian tarred all the Montoirs with the same brush. Admittedly, she hadn’t loved the idea of Dorian dating him specifically - if Dorian wanted to be freaky with his own friends, that was something that her love for him could ignore, but messing around in Émilie’s own social circle had put her nose out of joint. Still, that had been temporary. And Jean-Loup had been on the receiving end of enough Pureblood girly snits not to let it cut any more than skin deep. Honestly, anyone who thought that Émilie’s position and gender rendered her powerless had never tried to tell an entitled little family princess that she couldn’t have her way. “And Dorian would give you a very different evaluation of his Mama.” He was not going to bother quoting that. The ways she was trying. The claims of love and desire for his happiness - which he supposed was a better starting point than just wanting normality, and the definition of ‘normality’ being ‘excellence’ which was what his mother wanted. However, he didn’t have the energy to bother defending Mrs. Montoir when it was actually nice to be allowed to be hurt and angry with her for a change. Though still, her crimes paled in comparison…
What was up with Matthieu? Jean-Loup froze slightly. English-speakers did, he was aware, use ‘what’s up?’ in a casual sense sometimes, to mean… something other than ‘please tell me about this thing.’ He didn’t think Killian meant it that way though. He… oh. Well, like heck he was going to back out of giving any kind of viscerally detailed answer to just how vile Matthieu was. His mouth twisted as he found the words and spat them out one by one.
“Cruel. Violent. Homophobic,” he stated, demonstrating the fact that a second language learner could lack the words for every day items whilst excelling in the vocabulary that was more personal to them. It might have helped that it was basically the same in French but it wasn’t like he’d had anyone to complain about this to in his native language. “Take Dorian, take Dorian and imagine everything is opposite. Physical too - I mean not all,” he waved a dismissive hand not wanting to summarise that he didn’t mean blond hair and blue eyed because he was going to credit Killian with enough intelligence to figure that part out, “Still kind of short,” he added, though given his own height this was probably a relative judgement, “But big,” he flexed his own shoulders to show how he meant, “He always hurts Dorian. Growing up, he always hurts him and makes him feel bad. Makes him think it is his, Dorian, own fault. Always calls him names like… Like Dorian is girly boy and weak. And then last year, he knows that Dorian has boyfriend. Guess how this goes?” he asked, his voice simmering just below the level of really, truly shouting. “Break nose. His head to the wall. This one,” he mimed strangling the air in front of him with shaking hands, several items on Killian’s desk trembled against the surface. “Says Dorian should die,” the sheer rage and fear of the nerve that had been touched hung in the air for a moment. And then… fell away. The idea of Matthieu could sweep through him like a fire, but with no more fuel in front of it, it burnt out pretty quickly.
“Not me that needs here,” he shook his head, “Well… no. I do. But I not need to be away from Matthieu,” - apart from the part where he wasn’t sure he could keep his promise not to drive his fist repeatedly into the smirking, sickening face if he ever saw it again, “Here is okay for Dorian. Far enough.”
The image of Killian trying to catch him was rather funny and he managed a smile at that.
“I promise,” he agreed, more softly and seriously than he’d used the original statement - enough so that the promise seemed like it might be worth making. “Thank you,” he added, grateful for the support. He was used to being the one who did this - he had fancied himself Dorian’s knight in shining armour. It was a little nice to have it reciprocated. If you ignored all of physics and Killian’s appalling flying skills, the idea of him swooping in to the rescue was sort of appealing.
“What do people usually call your accent?” he asked. “Eh, I don’t call you like this,” he stated, when Mr. Row said Mr Row/Roe. He could, if he concentrated. Dorian had tried to help him by pointing out that it rhymed with ‘l’eau’ and when he held that in his head it came out better. However, there were times when he was sure he’d made a fairly incomprehensible noise at Katey and she’d just worked out where he was going because it wasn’t like there were many other people for him to have appointments with. “Mister Roh,” he demonstrated, rolling the ‘r’ and mangling the vowel as fully as possible into one gutteral, throaty sounding mess. “Not bad,” he complimented the attempt at his own name. “Kill-yon?”” he tried. “You may have to write down and give me lessons if you want any better,” he smiled.
13
Jean Wolfe
Okay, feelings back in their bottles. Sorry for the mess.
1506
0
5
Killian Row
July 22, 2020 1:55 PM
Smash the bottles. by Killian Row
"Girls I can understand," Killian admitted. "But tea?? I think I have more tea than blood in my veins most days," he laughed. Banter was nice, even if it was around semi serious topics. Maybe because it was around semi serious topics. It wasn't as if he could have these conversations with his parents and he didn't have any friends he was especially close to right now. There were folks he was close to and getting closer to, but not many, and not any yet who had dived into this sort of conversation. His time with Marsh was the closest thing, but it was different. Maybe the role he played in Jean-Loup's life made a difference there.Truth be told, Killian didn't know that much about Dorian's family. He was glad that an Émilie person was less terrible than other terrible people, but that pleasant feeling only lasted for a moment. Brothers were supposed to be good and kind and helpful. They weren't supposed to act selfishly or horribly. They weren't supposed to hurt their little brothers. They weren't supposed to make them feel small or sad or broken. His hands shook with rage upon hearing the way Dorian had been treated and he curled his hands into fists on his lap to hide them, as that didn't seem appropriate. Killian did not consider himself an upright person necessarily; he had his flaws and he had a lot of them. That being said, he was confident in knowing when it was reasonable to hex someone's stupid face off and when it wasn't and he suddenly found himself very much believing that Mathieu should be hexed.
Somewhere, in the back of his brain, he recognised that this was a leftover feeling. When he was being blunt with himself, he knew Lorcan was not a great big brother. Their decade apart had not been spent pining over a reunion, but nor had it been spent celebrating their separation. Now, those feelings were only grown by the presence of a child in the mix - he was neither happy Lorcan was gone nor did he at all want him back. Also, drunk people were not famous for being kind. As Tabitha had been so blunt about, Lorcan had a reputation for being a bit of a meathead and that was when he put his show on on the outside.
There was a time when Killian and Lorcan were close. Killian did miss those days and if he thought too much about the brother he'd had then, he even found himself missing Lorcan now. But Lorcan wasn't that person anymore and hadn't been for a long time. While he wouldn't call his brother cruel, violent, or homophobic necessarily, he also wouldn't call him especially non-violent. He liked to play rough and didn't care that much if the other person wanted to play too. Roughhousing, however unwanted, was nothing like what Jean-Loup was describing.
When there was a space for Killian to speak, he had had time to collect himself. Still, his voice was low and dark. "I'm glad that Dorian has here," he said, amending his previous statement for emphasis. "My older brother makes a lot of very bad decisions, but nothing to that degree. Forgive me, though, as I think my own feelings are making me a bit angrier than I should be in front of others. I don't mean to be as . . . as . . . pissed off as I am."
He was glad that Jean-Loup seemed disinterested at least in jumping off a bridge now and that he'd wrested a smile from him. Jean-Loup hadn't even seen him fly yet, and Killian almost hoped he'd get to just so he knew exactly how crazy an offer he was making.
He blushed a little - something that was almost unusual for him as he leaned heavily on cocky and flirty before shy when discussing such matters - when Jean-Loup asked what people usually said about his accent. "Sometimes funny," he offered. "Other times sexy or charming," he added, taking a drink of his tea and embracing the awkward a little. Just two not-straight dudes having some banter and joking around about their totally normal accents. It was fine. "Depends on a lot of things, I think," he said with a half-cocked grin. It turned into a proper laugh when Jean-Loup demonstrated an attempt at his name.
The thought of giving Jean-Loup lessons on name pronunciation sounded like there would be definite buts of hilarity and he grinned again at the idea of doing so. "I'm not sure," he said, "That sounded way better than it does when other people say it. Much more fun," he nodded with mock seriousness. "It sounds a bit like directions to kill a guy named Ian, I think," he said, considering. "Killian. Kiiiiillian. Killian. Kill Ian, Mr. Fish Egg! Yours is much better. I'm sure you could absolutely fit lessons into your already packed schedule," he pointed out with a playfully raised eyebrow.
22
Killian Row
Smash the bottles.
1450
0
5
Jean Wolfe
July 23, 2020 3:52 AM
Only if you do too by Jean Wolfe
Killian understood girls. Bold claim, even for someone who slept with them. Oh, no, it appeared he understood passing over girls? Maybe? Anyway, he was fighting for tea."But I wish to be healer," Jean-Loup reminded him. "Be ninety percent coffee and have terrible writing - these are basic entry requirements. You are suppose to help me going to healer school, not endanger," he laughed.
"Be angry," Jean-Loup suggested, when Killian apologised, "It is an angry situation." And it helped, to let some of it out. To rant and call it unfair and to hear someone emphatically agree. It probably helped that anger was an almost acceptable emotion. A gentleman did not give into it much, and did not indulge it in public but it wasn't forbidden. It was acceptable between guys. "Be.... piss off?" he tried, with a grin, enoying the vitriolic spit and hiss of the phrase. "Teach me words," he requested. "Words I should not know in English for... how to say like... someone so low down that the dirt under fingernails is better than they," he suggested.
It also seemed like the story hit a personal note. Killian's brother was... not as bad as Matthieu?
"Not as bad as Matthieu is... this does not inform me very much," he stated. He had guessed right then, that this was the source of Killian's problems. What the heck was up with the older brothers of the world? Why were none of them living up to their roles of protector and... well, role model. That one stung a bit. Charlotte would have said he was a failure too - would have lumped him in with Matthieu and... Matthieu Lite. Irish Matthieu. Whatever he was called. Into the Bad Big Brothers Club. He had always tried so hard to defend her. But if she wanted to just be their mother in miniature, that was not a decision he could protect her from.
He pushed those feelings aside. He'd vented some of his frustrations. He left his remark about Killian's brother hanging, trying not to scrutinise him like he owed Jean-Loup an explanation but regarding him steadily none the less, leaving it up to him. And quietly checking for signs of wear and tear.
"Probably all of those," Jean-Loup offered agreeably when Killian described the reaction his accent usually got. And then realised what he'd said and blushed slightly. It looked like Killian was doing the same, and burying his face in a mug of tea - like that wasn't a move Jean-Loup could spot a mile off, given that Dorian was his boyfriend. Dorian was his boyfriend. And here he was... was he flirting? Was Killian flirting with him? He definitely didn't mean to be but he wasn't sure what the difference was between trying to make someone like you and flirting when you were both of a gender that the other person was into. And trying to make people like him was his default mode. He felt more real around Killian than he did most people, in that he was genuinely enjoying this too but then... what did that mean? The conversation had more than a lick of the feeling he'd felt when he'd been trying to draw Dorian in.
The mature, emotionally healthy thing to do would have been to put that out in the open. To ask and establish what was going on. To explain that he hadn't been around a lot of other people like himself and that he was somewhat lost or confused on how to act.
"People say this about French accent a lot too," he commented, mirroring Killian's expression as best he could. Feeding back what was given out usually meant you were at least giving the other person something they liked and wanted. Whether that was good for you or what you wanted sometimes got pushed off the table at that point but it was a trade off he'd have to take. He was a well practised social chameleon, and whatever it was that Mr. Row was feeling or thinking right now was what he was getting back.
"Much of the time is sitting and waiting. Sonora students are very healthy. And you're partly my supervisor, so you think it is important, I can come," he grinned, "Mister Killyon Roh," he added playfully.
13
Jean Wolfe
Only if you do too
1506
0
5
Killian Row
July 23, 2020 1:54 PM
Ehhh..... by Killian Row
Killian laughed at the Jean-Loup's math. "You know, they say the same thing about muggle doctors. I think you've found the bridge between cultures! But okay, okay, I guess you can keep your coffee. Tea has caffeine too, you know," he added, smirking. He was glad Jean-Loup seemed comfortable talking with him in general, but his comment about Killian helping him took some stress off the guidance counselor's shoulders, who didn't feel so worried that they were compartmentalizing their budding friendship."Pissed off," Killian grinned, amused by Jean-Loup taking to it so fast. "Someone can piss you off, and then you're pissed off." He paused to consider the request for words. There was an eagerness in Jean-Loup that made Killian want to oblige just for the excitement he'd see in return, but he wasn't sure that teaching him bad things to say about people was the best tactic. Still, one or two couldn't hurt. Several swear words came to mind but he wasn't sure that was the best choice, especially if Jean-Loup was going to have to express his opinions at some point to someone else. Killian could picture the intern in a therapy session, trying to explain that Mathieu was a ************ and, while funny from the outside, that probably wouldn't be helpful. A number of things he'd heard in pubs at home also came to mind but he wasn't sure that Irish or Scottish insults would be particularly useful. At the same time, Jean-Loup asked for words he shouldn't know . . .
With a quick glance at the door, habitually making sure he wasn't about to get caught doing something naughty, Killian grinned wickedly and let out a string of words he wouldn't be caught dead saying in front of his mother, mostly because she would already have skinned him if he said them. Some words, he knew, just sounded like you weren't supposed to say them, but he figured it was best to give a warning anyway. "Or scumbag, if you want something that's not formal but you can still say in front of people without getting a hiding," he laughed.
As it turned out, that sort of sentence (was it really a sentence?) was cathartic as heck, and he felt much better, and thus much more open, when Jean-Loup pointed out that his description of Lorcan didn't give much away. He took a sip of his drink. "I try not to say too much because my niece, his daughter, goes to school here now. My brother's a drunk. Always has been. But now he's up and disappeared. He lost his flat and now he's gone and he's left poor Bonabelle . . . well, we're going to be taking care of her now. My parents and me. How you could just leave a kid . . ." That was, of course, only part of the problem, and he toyed with the idea of keeping the rest to himself. "We were close growing up," he said, as he thought. Perhaps he could share a little. "But he started drinking and when he's drinking, he's either violent or. . . . more interested than usual in women," he said, raising an eyebrow to check for understanding. "We hadn't spoken for a decade - ten years - when I met Bonny. Fell out of touch when things went sideways before. He smashed up a lot of my stuff and tried to pick a fight with me. Broke my nose," he added, aware that this was something Jean-Loup could understand. "But I had my wand and it ended fast."
Killian hated this story. He hated to think that it was his fault that he hadn't spoken to his brother in so long. He'd just left . . . he'd given up on his big brother. And now there wasn't anyone there to give up on. "I think sometimes that it's my fault he's like this now. If I'd stuck around, I could've helped him." He frowned thoughtfully. "But he made his choices just like I did and now we all get to clean up after him."
As the conversation turned to accents and things, Killian was glad for a lighter topic. He cocked an eyebrow at Jean-Loup's response, a cautious smirk on his lips. He suspected that the comment was just a blanket agreement and not meant to be more than that, but he also couldn't rule it off the table. The lad looked embarrassed enough that it could have been either. Calling him out seemed both awkward and inappropriate, so he left it, and Jean-Loup turned the conversation to his own accent, which Killian was not about to call sexy or charming.
"That's good, right?" he laughed lightly. "Means you don't have to worry about trying to shake it!" He held up his glass in toast, as if they were part of an organization of people with accents trying to take over the world. "They sound funny, though, right?" he asked, hoping for confirmation. "Obviously there's a lot of accents in the world, but the American ones took some getting used to for me."
Killian almost envied Jean-Loup for the idea of healthy Sonora students who left him to quiet time, and he could not relate. "Lucky man," he laughed, looking over his piles of papers around the office. "I think we can work something out if you mean it," he added, laughing at his name. "Gene Loop Arson-oh," he added, working hard for the worst American accent he could manage.
22
Killian Row
Ehhh.....
1450
0
5
Jean Wolfe
July 23, 2020 10:40 PM
Come on now... by Jean Wolfe
’My parents would be so proud…’ Jean-Loup thought bitterly as Killian suggested he had bridged the gap between cultures. He kept it to himself though, not sure that blood politics was a cage of nifflers he really wanted to open right now. It felt like they’d gone through rather a lot already. He was not really sure he was up to bridging cultures. He had seen Muggles for the first time during the holidays. Dorian was loath to venture out among them, convinced there was electricity out there, but there was only so far you could run without crossing out of the little magic bubble around the hotel, and it wasn’t far enough. Running, he had noticed, transcended cultures too, as did the fact that it was a solitary activity that did not lend itself to talking to other people. He had noticed Muggle runners even went so far as to put some kind of ear plugs in to really underline the point.There was something very deeply fun about watching Killian swear. There was the accent, the way the words bounced and rolled in ways that Jean-Loup knew would transform the second he himself said them - and the fact that it turned out that Irish was a pretty good accent for being angry as well as everything else. There was the sense that it was something forbidden. There was the satisfaction of scratching that persistent itch, that feeling of injustice that Matthieu had left under his skin. He tried a few of the terms, rolling them around his mouth with relish.
“Scumbag. Matthieu Montoir is a stinking, low down, scumbag,” he stated, crafting each syllable with care so that it sliced through the air, clean and precise in its loathing. “And hiding is… trouble?” he checked. That was not the sense he knew it in, but it seemed logical from context.
Killian opened up about his own family, and Jean-Loup’s face rapidly fell into a frown. As the guidance counselor concluded with the news that his own nose had been broken, he received his own very impromptu lesson on swearing in French, as Jean-Loup let forth a string of angry muttered curses. His fist curled reflexively. He wanted to find Killian’s brother and break his nose in return. Though he checked that impulse. People who had been hit, he knew from experience, did not like seeing others get hit. He made a conscious effort to relax the hand on the table into a less threatening gesture.
“Sorry,” he stated to Killian, both in the sympathetic sense and for his own reaction. If he wasn’t being angry, he sort of wanted to reach out and touch Killian’s nose, check it was okay, even if he was several years too late. Cos he wanted to be a healer. And that was a normal, natural response to hearing about an injury. Though it probably wasn’t necessary, so he… shouldn’t.
“I learn a phrase… People suck?” he offered, “I think… maybe your word list applies to your brother too,” he suggested, though decided not to put any of them into action. That was more Killian’s right than his. On the one hand, the world was full of yet more horrible things and everything was a little less nice than before - his nice, normal adult friend was rapidly turning out to be anything but. But then… he’d never really believed the lies anyway. At least this was honest. And he hated that there was absolutely nothing in the world he could do to fix Killian’s life but he had to hope that admitting it sucked had the same cathartic effect it had had for him.
“It sounds… not the same? There is not a person to get away from. There is a hole he left behind,” one that left Killian with responsibilities, ones that meant he probably was going to keep going back, and that he couldn’t try getting away from the person who was hurting him because he wasn’t there. “But if it is… too much, I know a very nice hotel that takes… chaos people. Chaos people, runaways.. Don’t mind who you share a bed with either. If not… there is someone you trust to catch?” he checked.
“I think you are smart and you know this anyway but… It’s not your fault,” he said. He would have found some gentler way to say it in French. It sounded clumsy and far too direct, perhaps a little bit stupid. But it was true, and it was important, and he didn’t want to leave any doubt on that point.
The atmosphere that had started to creep in when they talked about accents was slipping away. He couldn’t say how or why. Killian was laughing and teasing still, but it wasn’t the same. Did that mean he’d imagined it before, or that something had just changed? Also, what was he not shaking? He was a little confused, but he rolled with it yet again, letting himself be towed along until a point came up that he could grasp again.
“I know not,” he joked. “I talk to you and to Dorian. Sometimes to Tatya.” His longest interaction with a not-quite-patient had been with Freddie, but he kept that to himself. “So yes, more meetings please. Otherwise maybe yes, I will start to talk with Americans,” he grimaced. “They do that,” he nodded pathetically, eyes wide when Killian butchered his name. “Don’t send me to them?”
13
Jean Wolfe
Come on now...
1506
0
5
Killian Row
July 24, 2020 8:52 PM
You're very convincing. by Killian Row
Killian smirked and raised his glass to Jean-Loup's successful absorption of important English lexical items. "Oh yes. Hiding is what you do to animals when you take off all their skin. You remove their hide. It's not literal in this case, but it means to be in trouble, yeah," he replied, slipping for a moment back into his more academically minded self.He waved a hand with a small shrug, dismissing another apology. "I've long since let that one go," he said, although the fact that he'd brought it up again meant that probably wasn't all the way true. He smiled a little at Jean-Loup's new phrase though. "Yes," he said softly. "People suck. I think that you might be right, although I have a harder time being angry with my own brother somehow. He's not . . . hateful. He's just a moron. A dangerous moron, but still just a moron." A frown shaped his features for a moment. If Jean-Loup or Dorian said the same thing of Mathieu, or if half the students he'd heard even a little about their home life said that about their abusers, Killian would have disagreed vehemently. Did that mean he was wrong about Lorcan? Or was it something else?
He found himself nodding along to Jean-Loup's explanation. "A hole," he agreed sadly, pressing his lips together and breathing out hard through his nose. A gaping friggin' hole, ragged at the edges, and bleeding into its own decaying self. Perhaps a healer hadn't been the worst choice of company after all. He chuckled despite himself at the description of the hotel. "Chaos people, huh?" he smiled. "And I can sleep with whom I please." A few ideas came to mind. "I think I'd share a bed with myself these days," he laughed; it was easier to joke about love-making than it was to actually do it, apparently. "But that doesn't sound so bad. And a vacation to Greece would be nice, of course." He wondered if he could call himself a chaos person now. It reminded him of lost boys and he decided he'd have to introduce Jean-Loup to Peter Pan sometime if he didn't already know it.
At first, he was going to say no, that he didn't have anyone to catch him. But he thought that maybe Marsh would. And Selina probably would. And Mary and Tabitha would. And maybe Jean-Loup would. "Yes," he smiled, his eyes shining. "And they're better fliers than I am," he added.
He laughed more heartily, glad for the silliness in the room again, at Jean-Loup's puppy dog eyes. "Okay, okay," he agreed. "No Americans. I think I could go in for meeting more often. Chatting is good for the soul and good for the vocabulary," he added, smiling. He spent a lot of time smiling and most of it was sincere. This time, it was both sincere and guarded. He didn't want it to be guarded but he also didn't want to cross any accidental lines. "Bring Dorian and Tatya if you'd like," he added. "And Katey. We'll make a party of it."
22
Killian Row
You're very convincing.
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0
5