om_main | Tessa and Jean-Paul, middle of the party

Jean-Paul gets a last dance with Tessa, wherein they both try to be cheery and optimistic and realize they're just not cut out for it.

Just a little over a year ago, a function such as this one would have been utterly alien to Tessa. Even if she could have been made to accept the concept, it was likely she would have nevertheless dismissed such indulgent frivolity as a waste of time and energy. Those prejudices still clung to her, albeit to a far lesser extent, even now--it was a function of her impressive mental processes that the cyberpath was unable to simply live in the moment and not give exhaustive consideration to the various other ways she might be more productively occupying herself. That this was an indulgence was unarguable. That it was frivolous was manifest. But she had come to realize that these realities did not in any way diminish her enjoyment. And enjoyment for its own sake was important to the way she wished to structure her lifestyle.

As such, she had committed herself fully to enjoying this last student gathering at the Institute. Dressed in her precise recreation of a World War II-era Women's Army Corps uniform, her hair tucked neatly beneath her cap, she had danced, enjoyed the augmented beverages currently circulating among the revelers, and made a point of spending time with her usual familiars. It would likely be some time before she enjoyed such ready access again.

She had waited patiently, of course, until Simon and Jean-Paul had drifted apart for a few moments to address herself to the speedster. Friends they may have been, but even Tessa could understand the greater priority one gave to the closest of one's intimates, even if that was largely through extrapolation. Tessa positioned herself by Jean-Paul's side, seemingly as though she had always been there, and studied the other students. "I am currently evaluating diverse methods of requesting a dance of you," she told him straightforwardly, "and evaluating their respective probabilities of success. The direct approach seems most prudent."

Jean-Paul had opted to come as Dracula to Simon's Harker; if the love marks peeking over the top of Simon's collar were any indication, he was quite enjoying the role.

"It usually is," he agreed, a smile on his red-tinged lips, "but really Tessa, how often do I refuse you anything?"

"Only infrequently," she acknowledged with a nod, her dark eyes turning for a moment in the direction of Jean-Paul's slightly, if affectionately, blemished escort for the evening. "However, one does not care to presume. Particularly in light of recent events. It was possible--even likely--that you would have preferred to keep Simon close tonight. Or vice-versa."

"Ah. You got wind of what his shithead of a dad did, then?"

Tessa's brows climbed her brow. "Would it not be more surprising if I had failed to notice?"

"Perhaps so," he admitted, his smile widening despite the topic. "But we are trying not to let it ruin our fun."

"Most admirable of you. Both of you," she nodded. "I take it, then, that a dance would not be completely out of the question?"

"A dance would be wonderful." Jean-Paul tried not to think about how this might be his last dance with Tessa for a while. As he'd said...they were trying to hold on to their fun tonight. "You only have to say the word."

She held out a slender hand to him. "Please." Though determined to enjoy herself, there was still something bittersweet even in that small gesture. Tessa would not, however, allow it to linger overlong in her consciousness. As she stepped toward the floor, she added, "I take the fact that Roberto seems to retain full use of his extremities and major organ groups as a tacit approval of Jeanne-Marie's current relationship status?"

"I don't in the least," Jean-Paul corrected, tossing a glare toward Jeanne-Marie and her swain in their more modern vampire-and-slayer garb, "though at least I'm no longer holding him up against Braddock for comparison. I am, however reluctantly, trying to respect my sister's right to make her own terrible choices. Of course, the moment they're no longer an item..."

Tessa gave an understanding nod, and a brief, perhaps marginally sympathetic look in her squadmate's direction. "Roberto is," she considered how most aptly to phrase it, "challenging, yes. Often selfish and self-absorbed, and still mired in loss. But I do not think Jeanne-Marie will be damaged by him in any meaningful way. And she does much to draw him away from his grief and chemical dependencies." It was an appraisal, she supposed, that made the majority of the relationship's benefits seem distinctly one-sided, and, to Tessa's mind at least, they were. Yes, there were things he might give her, things he might teach her, that would widen and enhance her perspective, but none of it was necessarily unique to Roberto. He'd simply had the good fortune to have situated himself advantageously within Jeanne-Marie's affections.

Still, that was often the nature of romantic attachment, at least as she had observed it. Lacking any truly constructive insight to offer, Tessa had to content herself with watching, calculating. And, of course, "However, should your twin suffer even transient discomfort as a result of action or inaction on his part, then I suppose it will be a race between your speed and my ability to gather and assimilate what others might prefer I did not know."

"I accept your challenge." Jean-Paul's fangs seemed particularly appropriate to his smile. "But for now...I believe you were promised a dance, dear lady?"

"I believe I was, yes," she concurred, taking his hand as they reached the floor. "And a night to forget our various concerns, as best we may." Impossible for her, given her perfect memory, but she was willing to make an attempt.

"Let's make some people jealous, then." Jean-Paul slid an arm around her waist, and the two of them drifted onto the dance floor. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Resting her free hand on the speedster's shoulder, she moved a half-step closer and then allowed the sedate tempo of the music and Jean-Paul's lead to dictate her movements. She offered a friend a small smile, and a look that was perhaps vaguely puzzled. "I am. There is, I suppose, an element of melancholy to my current emotional status, but I have been unable to divest myself of it completely. So I simply decline to allow it to influence my actions objectives for the evening."

"Sorry." Jean-Paul moved in enough that they were practically nestled against each other as they moved. "You know me...suspicious and overly protective. I'll try to relax and admire the pageantry." He wanted to ask her again to stay, but he wasn't that selfish. "So where are we going to dinner first once you are settled?"

Personally, Tessa had always found Jean-Paul's critical mind and impulse to defend the things he cared for without hesitation two of his more admirable characteristics. She considered saying as much, but that was an observation likely to tug their interaction further in the direction of bittersweet reminiscence rather than fully engaging the moment. So instead, she said, "That is a question to which I have given serious thought. And there are a number of viable options in Salem Center and the surrounding communities. But what would give me the most pleasure, I think, would be to prepare something for you myself." The corners of her mouth curved upward. "Provided you are willing to brave such a potentially hazardous scenario, of course."

"Don't be ridiculous. We both know perfectly well that you wouldn't serve me anything that doesn't live up to your exacting standards, madame. The only surprise I see forthcoming is which type of cuisine you decide should grace our dinner table."

Tessa toyed idly with the neat hair at the nape of Jean-Paul's neck. "Your confidence in my capabilities is most gratifying. Very well, then. It shall be a surprise. And I shall spare no effort to meet your lofty expectations." The first step, of course, would be picking a particular family of foods at which to try her hand, and as something more than mere nourishment. "I trust you are aware that my hospitality will be available to you at any time."

He chuckled against her neck. "So when Simon finally loses patience with me and kicks me out, I can sleep on your couch?"

She breathed a laugh. "I find the prospect of that scenario coming to pass highly dubious," said Tessa as they glided together amongst the other students. "However, should you ever require alternative sleeping arrangements--whether for one night or several--you will always be welcome to stay with me. I will not even require you to sleep on the sofa."

"Now that is a brazen offer," he teased. "And with my boyfriend not even all the way across the gym."

"I meant that I would make supplementary arrangements--such as acquiring a cot," Tessa smirked, her grip tightening briefly in mild rebuke. "I suspect Simon would be more inclined to feel threatened by Scott or Josh than me, in any case. Regrettably, your preferences in that regard are a matter of record."

"That is the thing about jealousy; it is largely impermeable to logic. But I suppose I will have to work on getting kicked out first."

"Not too hard, I hope," she chided. "Domestic tranquility suits you." Tessa's expression grew serious. "There are certain things I may discover, once I am free to exercise greater personal discretion in my ongoing research," she said. "Certain parties I will be working with particular determination to locate." The cyberpath cast a surreptitious glance in Simon's direction. "I will not be endangering you or anyone close to you by keeping you apprised of my progress, will I?"

"Not any more than they're already endangered by me going public." Jean-Paul lifted his head, meeting her dark gaze with grave blue eyes. "If it makes you feel better, I can sneak out to see you instead of having anything sent here. But I do want to know."

"I thought you might." She nodded, but seemingly more to herself than to him. "Like me, you dislike unfinished business. Or allowing a trespass to go unanswered." Tessa looked at him directly again. "When I have something useful, you will know." The cyberpath smiled suddenly. "But now I am the one taking us out of this extraordinarily pleasant moment, aren't I? My apologies."

Jean-Paul chuckled and shook his head. "I think we are fighting against our natures at this point, my friend. We may as well give in."

Tessa's features creased into a subtle suggestion of a smirk. "Indeed. Perhaps undiluted fun simply isn't our style. A consequence, no doubt, of a realistic outlook."

Jean-Paul reached up to smooth back a lock of Tessa's hair that had dared fall out of place. "Or a mutual paranoia. Either way, it works for us."

"Certainly, we would never allow ourselves to be perceived as anything less than impeccably pristine, no matter how unreasonable our common pragmatism can make us seem," Tessa agreed. "Rather like the crisp snow that typified so many of our earliest encounters."