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[perdre]

[He speaks with a mildly British accent, mixed with twinges of French in every other consonant. His first instinct would have been to use his native language - the latter - but it's become clear that he'll have more luck being understood going with his father's.]

I... wish I could think of something wrong I'd done. Something that would explain why I'm here and why I have to - fight. [He's having a hard time expressing himself. Peter doesn't... really know what he wants to say, other than that he would very much like to be placed back where he came from.] Then I'd feel there was some kind of justification I could understand.

Anyway, uhm - if there's someone I know out there, is... is there any way I can find them? Contact them? I'd really appreciate any help. I - I have a friend - his name is Frederick, he's a doctor, English, taller than me... [He gestures with a flat hand, above his head. Then he reaches into his pocket to bring a small photograph closer to the camera,] This is the only picture I have of him. I don't have pictures of anyone else.

[With a soft sigh, Peter's shoulders drop. He then mutters to himself, a presence of annoyance in his tone,] Je ne sais pas sur quel pied danser...

Comments

[perdre]

[O-oh. Maybe Jules really is as fantastically awesome as Freddie describes her so often. Shy fingers pluck one of the cookies and take a small bite, chewing with his focus now on the coffee.]

Thank you - [His mouth is a little full when he says so, hopefully not making him appear to be too crude. He looks younger than he is - like he still has some things to perfect in his manners.

Silence follows gratitude for a long moment. He doesn't really know what to say, but doesn't want to leave the initiative just to her.]

It's really nice to meet you, at last.

[He nods once. That's better than the 'he's more than my friend, actually' that was circling around his thoughts, right? He can... leave that for later.]

[affections]

( A little shake of her head: don't mention it, as she reaches for another cookie, dunking it in her coffee before taking a bite. She's a bit more refined than Peter, at least, but there's a certain earnestness in his behaviour that is appealing, in its own way. )

Likewise.

( She supposes, and the at last certainly doesn't apply, but sometimes compromises must be made. )

How long have you known Freddie? ( Before she takes a sip of her coffee. Sweet sweet caffeine. )

[perdre]

Uhm - years? At least... two. [He nods. Two, at least.]

[affections]

( Years? She hesitates for just a moment with her coffee, before taking another sip, trying to fathom it. )

I can't believe he'd have a friend for that long that I don't know about.

( Not... necessarily doubting Peter, not immediately (even if she is inclined to be suspicious, overprotective) but she is really confused. )

I mean, we don't always see each other so often, but two years.

( Help )

[perdre]

... Yeah, I - I'm sorry about that. I thought he had mentioned me by now.

[Apparently not. He really doesn't know how to feel about that. Freddie, are you ashamed of him? Of them?]

I guess he must have been too busy...?

[Why is he making up excuses for him? Silly, silly Peter.]

[affections]

Peter.

( The poor man is simply radiating kicked puppy, and as Jules has always infinitely preferred dogs to cats, she rests a hand over his. )

My brother is all manner of things, including scatterbrained, but two years? It simply seems out of character, for him.

( Which begs the question as to what his motivation might be for keeping such a fellow hidden, because otherwise she'd at least have heard his name in casual conversation. Oh! Unless... ) Are you a friend of Poppy's? I have an unfortunate tendency to sort of block out anything she says as much as possible.

[perdre]

[Having Jules' hand placed over his is a bit of a big deal for him - Peter wasn't expecting that kind of a gesture from someone who has only just met him, and to whom he apparently needs to prove himself to, seeing as Freddie opened no doors for them. There seems to be a little hope in his eyes when Jules suddenly mentions Poppy, but - no, it doesn't ring a single bell, not even after a concentrated moment of thought. Peter purses his lower lip, shaking his head.]

No, I don't know anyone with that name. At least... I don't think so. Is she a friend from England?

[affections]

( A long silence. Just exactly what kind of game was her brother playing? Because it was definitely her brother she'd seen a photo of, this man knew her name, and not of the pieces were quite falling into place. Who is Poppy? was akin to asking what the sun was, in the universe according to Frederick Grumley (much to her displeasure).

She chews her lip for a brief moment, before she forces herself to stop. It wouldn't do. )

Poppy is his wife. ( Gently, because... because she has no idea what tugging on this particular string is likely to unravel. )

[perdre]

[Well. That shuts him up for a good while, blue eyes transfixed on Jules' features. It's true that Freddie had left an entire life behind when he moved to France to be with Peter, but something of that dimension had completely escaped his wildest imagination.]

His... [He doesn't quite seem to lose his words as much as he simply fails to form them.] I'm sorry - [He frowns, eyes down, trying to somehow put the suddenly scattered pieces together.] His wife? H-he's married?

[affections]

( Oh, for fuck's sake, Frederick Grumley. She doesn't have to be an empath to know what that reaction means, and her heart is breaking for this poor guy. This poor guy, who apparently was utterly enamoured with her brother, had been for two years, and it's even breaking for Poppy, because there was no way she could know. No matter how much she might infuriate Jules, nobody deserved this.

And she had always so idealised her brother. This is a slap in the face, even if she still loves him. She'll love him to death, she really will, but right now she is very angry with him.

There's no room for that: she abandons her coffee, brings her other hand to hold Peter's, and her empathy is invading his skin to kind out how deep this goes, to make sure without a doubt that she's getting this right, that she isn't reading it wrong and blaming her brother needlessly. Maybe it's a miscommunication.

It is not. Beyond it, that painful twist, the tightening of his chest, she can feel shifting shadows. A hybrid? That doesn't matter for now. She needs to slip back out from under his skin, even if her hands have tightened around his own. )

Yeah. He is. ( The next time she sees her brother, she is going to murder him. ) I am so, so sorry.

[perdre]

[There's an uncomfortable shiver when Jules takes both of his hands. All Peter wants to do is recoil and go somewhere else to hide and think about all this. His poor mind is buzzing with all kinds of questions, about Freddie, about this Poppy, about Jules' role in the whole thing. Peter is obviously not supposed to be in this picture, and he's not sure whether he regrets ever opening his mouth or having what he thought he had with Freddie the most.

You don't just erase two years from your heart like that, though. It's impossible. Right?

Why doesn't he just feel angry with Freddie instead of having all this guilt?]

No, [he shakes his head lightly, eyes downcast, completely incapable of hiding the heartbroken line of his lips.] No, I mean - it's -

[Peter didn't tell her anything, so... she doesn't even know what she's sorry about.]

It's just... unexpected.

[affections]

Yeah. I thought better of him, too.

( She really did. He's her big brother, her hero, really. No matter what, they'd always looked out for each other, and Freddie was the gentle one between their mother's aggressive enthusiasm and their father's hostile ideals about hybrids. This wasn't what he was meant to do. Freddie wasn't meant to be this person. )

Look, I mean. Maybe there's-- some big mistake.

( Neither of them think that, do they? )

[perdre]

Yeah, no - I mean - I'm sure he has his reasons.

[Or something. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. This is weird and uncomfortable and he doesn't know.]

It's - uh. It's nice to meet you, anyhow.

[affections]

( Really. Really, Peter. )

I love my brother more than anything else on this Earth-- or, I suppose, any Earths, all things considered. I can't think of any reason that would make something like this okay to him. He's... it's not like him.

( It's making her worry, truth be told, but at her words she just smiles brightly, brilliantly, a smile that can restore confidence. )

Of course it is. I'm charming. It's nice to meet you, too.

[perdre]

[He doesn't think he want to talk about this anymore. Or about anything at all. But her little comment makes him offer the beginning of a smile.]

[affections]

( Another little handsqueeze, a bit more of an invasion into his emotions, and she releases his hands to grant him some mercy after realising how horrifically uncomfortable this must be, however upsetting. )

Would you rather be alone, for a bit?

[perdre]

[It takes him a little moment to reply - it's a bit like he didn't realize she left go of his hand.]

I don't want to be rude.

[affections]

It isn't rude, I promise you.

( She gives him a little bit of a grin. Not full-force, but rather something to try and cheer him up. )

Take some time. Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow and realise there's been some horrible misunderstanding? But yo can come and find me whenever you need to. All right?