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Post by Nomz on Aug 25, 2024 18:32:05 GMT
A charity event at the Natural History Museum of New York City. Classic. Wally rolls his shoulders under the rented suit he wears, trying his damnest not to wear his nerves on his black sleeves. His fingers tug on the scuffed cufflinks as glances up at the rather ornate building across the street from him. Crowds of paparazzi swarm the sidewalks as people dressed in their best stroll up the staircase and through the front doors.
He readjusts his bowtie for the fifth time, loosening it and tightening it. "I'll be fine," Wally murmurs to himself, watching and waiting for the right moment. After all, he already knows that Jean-Paul Beaubier is inside the building. All he has to do is walk up to him, introduce himself, and challenge the man to a race.
Perfectly normal, right?
Wally takes a breath to steady his nerves before he jogs across the street. Everything around him slows to a near stop, making dodging the traffic all that much easier. He ducks under the extended arm of a man arguing with a very nonplused valet employee and trots up the stone stairs. It takes no time for him at all to slip down the hall and into the grand room where the event is being held.
A 94-foot-long blue whale model floats in the ambient light of an undersea realm just feet above everyone's heads. Wally pauses near one of the world-famous dioramas depicting scenes from Earth's oceans that circle the upper floor of the room. He runs a hand through his slicked-back hair as the speed force around him dispenses with a small breeze of wind.
Wally does his best to appear normal with his drink in his hand as he approaches where he's already spotted JP in the crowd.
Right. This is normal. You're not being weird, Wally. You're the Rizzlord. This is fine.
Wally suppresses the internal dialogue as he takes a moment's pause in the conversation to offer his hand out to his fellow speedster with a happy little smile that oh so perfectly shows the start of his laugh lines. His voice is steadier than the slight tremble in his hand as he talks to the older, attractive man, "I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Wally West, the fastest man alive. Did you have time for a race later?"
This is so not crash.
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 25, 2024 21:55:40 GMT
The Natural History Museum is the perfect place for an event like this. There’s enough decorations around for people to small-talk about, enough space to avoid someone you don’t want to talk to, and enough prestige to the location that the charity fundraiser being held right now has drawn more guests than it otherwise would have. It’s a science to be sure, a social science, of how to get the most people to attend, while also drawing enough of the important ones that the event is as big a success as possible.
Jean-Paul is in his element. He has been in the public eye for so long that it’s second nature for him to handle himself among nearly all kinds of crowds, especially the rich and famous who, more often than not, just want the reputation and good publicity that comes with donating publicly to a charity of any kind, some for a boost, some to save up for when they inevitably mess up, and some to make up for past deeds by doing something good instead.
There’s a champagne flute in his hand, and he’s been using it to gesture several times so far, a perfect prop to exude confidence, comfort in his own skin, and of course to avoid fiddling around needlessly with his hands during the utterly boring and pointless conversations he’s been having over the past 30 minutes. They were necessary of course, you had to schmooze the guests for the best result, and that included listening to some brag about their wealth and fame, about their children and grandchildren, their businesses, their dogs .. He had a vaguely interesting conversation about the upcoming NFL season earlier, but his conversation partner had had to leave him in favor of a business partner from out of town.
Which meant he was stuck talking with a rotund middle aged gentleman who had admitted to never playing any sports himself, but insisted that his son was the next Babe Ruth, though not letting the young man (the next Babe Ruth that is) actually speak a word for himself. Jean-Paul had shared a few sympathetic looks with the boy while his prattling father hadn’t been paying attention, and had gotten a good feeling the poor boy was just as eager for this conversation to stop as he was, but ah .. Politeness.
But what is this? A knight in ill-fitting tux? Jean-Paul assesses the man who doesn’t look comfortable in his clothes, in the environment, but it doing a very fine job at pretending he is. He doesn’t know who this man is, but he knows he’s not on the guest list. How does he know? He is hosting tonight’s event. But he’s willing to give him a chance. His nervousness doesn’t seem malicious, and there’s something about the way he clocks him keeping up with the split-second threat-assessment he does. As if he saw. He accepts the man’s hand in a firm handshake, following up with a second hand to keep the man in his space, lest his nervous energy compel him to leave.
“Ah Mr. West, so glad you could make it,” his tone is friendly and welcoming, and his accent does wonders making his voice sound softer. “I had been 'oping you would, we have a lot to discuss after all.” Jean-Paul has never seen the red-head in his life, but his words are intriguing. “Fastest man alive”? Barry Allen had called himself that once or twice. Or fifty times.
“You will have to forgive me Mr. Conroy,” He gives the man a sociable clap on the arm, as if they were old college team buddies. “Mr. Ruth,” His smile turns into a sardonic smirk as he winks at the kid who snorts before being able to cover it up. “Mr. West and I really need to have a talk, you know how it is at these thing, not enough time in one evening,” Mr. Conroy nods solemnly, though he has clearly noticed Wally West’s state of dress too, but societal rules say he can’t speak up. So instead he leaves with his poor son in tow.
“Why don’t we get to know each other first Wally,” He smiles disarmingly, ending Wally’s name in a higher toned lilt, “There is always time for a race to the finish.”
Jean-Paul smoothly grabs another champagne flute from a passing waiter carrying a veritable tower of them on a round platter, and offers it to his new .. Acquaintance. “A toast to new friends, perhaps?” he extends his own flute for a clink.
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Post by Nomz on Aug 25, 2024 23:27:37 GMT
The second hand meant to keep Wally in place sends his little mind stumbling a step and all he can think is that he's been caught. More so when Jean-Paul says his name like that. The redhead has all of a moment to nod in farewell to Mr. Conroy and Mr. Ruth before he is steered away by the arm. This whole thing is going much faster than he expected, which says so much all things considered.
He hears his heart in his ears as the older man calls him by his first name, his accent doing something terribly interesting with the rather simple syllables.
"To new friends, Mr. Beaubier," Wally agrees, tinking his glass to the man's flute. The champagne is cool on his tongue, setting some of his nerves to rest even as the bubbles tickle his throat. "I apologize for butting in so rudely. I just wanted to meet you because I was curious and I realize that may have been a bit-"
Teeth come down on his lip, putting a stop to his flow of words. Pink creeps up the back of his neck as he tries again.
"I haven't met another speedster before." His words are soft, pitched low as if shy.
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 27, 2024 2:01:15 GMT
Jean-Paul takes a sip of his champagne after the toast, and shakes his head in response to Wally’s apology.
“It is no problem. Usually I am the one who has to 'unt down anyone who have bypassed security to get in at my event – you introducing yourself really saves me a lot of trouble.” He doesn’t sound upset, he isn’t really, especially not after the next admission from his event crasher. He takes an unnoticeable look around (unnoticeable to the naked eye at least) to see if anyone is listening in, and is satisfied to see that people are minding their own business.“That .. Is an intriguing cold open.” He chuckles. “Are you also a mutant, Wally?” Regardless of the circumstances for the other man’s self-proclaimed status as a speedster, Jean-Paul is a lot more interested in the conversation now – especially because of the terminology being used. Speedster.
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Post by Nomz on Aug 27, 2024 2:17:56 GMT
Wally chews his lip for a moment longer, listening and his eyes glance down into his drink. The blush along his neck doesn't lessen as he hears Jean-Paul chuckle and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that it is an incredibly good sound.
"I-" He hesitates, straightening just a little to glance over the top of the older man's head, doing his own sweep. It isn't the first time he's heard the term mutant and now he knows better than to treat it lightly. Especially after his conversation with Des. Wally leans a little closer, voice pitched low. "More like an accidental science experiment, a twist of chance and fate. I was just a kid."
He offers a soft, shy smile as he meets JP's eyes from under his lashes. "I'm sorry if this is a bad place for this. I couldn't think of a less awkward way to introduce myself." Idle fingers tug uselessly at his ill-fitting suit, trying to hide is embarrassment and failing.
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Sept 10, 2024 21:17:20 GMT
Jean-Paul nods solemnly as he listens to Wally’s tale, less surprised than anyone should have a right to be. While the stories of Mutants discovering their abilities in various different ways wereHe leans in easily, confidently, sincerely: mostly the same, a slow progression or sudden necessity, the stories of Mutates developing abilities as the result of deliberate experiments, accidents, a bolt of lightning, a foreign influence, alien technology, alien magic, non-alien magic .. There were so many different ways to develop superhuman abilities besides having the X gene, and Jean-Paul knows very well he doesn’t even know half of what he probably should about it. Perhaps he should make more of an effort – he has built a whole public persona on his private dream of wanting to help and teach children and youths to be themselves.
“I am sorry to hear that. ‘Accident’, and ‘child’ parts more specifically. It ‘appens too often that children suffer the consequence of actions of careless adults, and are then left to fend for themselves.”
Faster than any normal human (and quite a few not normal ones) could hope to catch, Jean-Paul grabs Wally’s hand from where the other man is scrunching up the bottom of his blazer, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He lets go after a split second, but if Wally truly is a “speedster”, he would notice and experience it, wouldn’t he?
“No need to apologize. While direct, I appreciate you approaching me in public first rather than private. Less threatening no?” He laughs easily and offers a nod to a passing person, and then taking a drink of his champagne.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 13, 2024 1:21:56 GMT
"It does happen far too often," Wally agrees easily. While it had not quite happened or felt that way for him, he has come across more than one person who was given powers they did not want and then forsaken. His mind trails back to Conner. He did not deserve the hand he was given, but Wally doubts he could ever blame Clark for his reaction. "I was fortunate enough to have family that was able and willing to help me."
Time seems to drag down to a near stop around them as Jean-Paul reaches down to take Wally's hand in his own. His face breaks out in a deep red flush as his fingers start to squeeze back. Wally is a fraction too slow as the older man pulls away again.
"Yeah, I figured trying to catch you in a private location would have ended up as a more hands-on experience. We're fast, but even that would be a little too fast for me." Wally smirks with a hint of pride and he certainly can't quite process that he just openly flirted with this man. Still, he's not one to back down. "I did want to ask. Why do you help people with your abilities?"
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Sept 14, 2024 1:15:46 GMT
Jean-Paul’s professional friendly smile to the passerby turns more warm when Wally mentions his family and their support of him. After confirming that his new acquaintance is indeed a meta-human as he claims (oh and doesn’t he feel bad for checking – but he’s been burnt before), he feels nothing but relief for the child that Wally was. If only other families were more accepting of their children being different ..
“I do prefer to at least share a drink with a man before things get physical.” His smile turns into a smirk as he deliberately maintains eye contact as he empties his flute and places it on the tray of a passing waitstaff already on their way with empty glasses, fast enough to alert absolutely no one but Wally. Then he answers the question he’s been posed many times before, with a rehearsed, but no less genuine answer:
"Because I can. My genetics has given me the ability to 'elp a lot of people, people who otherwise would not be 'elped. I am sure you 'elp little old ladies get groceries from the top shelf because you are tall, and they are not. It is not completely comparable I know, but similar all the same. Why should I not be 'elping? Fighting for what's right with the abilities I've been given. Whether it is literally fighting terrible superpowered villains, disaster relief, search and rescue, sponsoring projects, making appearances at events, hosting them .. I can make a difference, so I do."
“May I ask you a question in return per’aps? Why seek me out and not say, The Flash?”
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Post by Nomz on Sept 14, 2024 3:56:32 GMT
Wally decides there is not a chance in hell that Jean-Paul doesn't know what he's doing to the younger man's knees. He swallows hard, but doesn't break eye contact. The warmth in his stomach soothes as Jean-Paul talks about why he helps. Wally isn't so sure why he's been making a point to ask people that lately, but it's been...good for his soul to hear.
He shifts on his toes when JP asks his question and he has to think about it for a moment.
"Is this where I'm supposed to say 'Because you're hot'?" He grins happily before continuing. "Mostly, I wanted to meet you. You're public with your identity. I was considering going public as well and maybe shooting for something like working with the Justice League."
"You're interesting and you seemed kind. Why, would you have preferred I went to the Flash instead?" His grin turns a tad devilish, the shyness falling away as he grows more comfortable with the older man before him.
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