[hr][hr][center][URL=http://fontmeme.com/freefonts/1080/still_time.font][IMG]http://fontmeme.com/freefonts/img.php?f=1080&s=55&t=Straight%20Up%20Foolish&c=844dff[/IMG][/URL][img]https://67.media.tumblr.com/4ad34da4bc31c5fa83a407b1e295f1f5/tumblr_msrrslc1ah1qja3x0o1_500.gif[/img][hr][color=844dff]"[i][b]Ooh I want the time of my life
Oh baby
Ooh give me the time of my life
Let's get it now[/b][/i]"
- Pitbull[/color][/center][hr]
Chloe. Damn was his brother lucky, she was one of the nicest girls in the cheerleading squad during high school and dare he say one of the prettiest. He was happy for his brother, truly. There was no better choice for him and all that happiness in his eyes ever since Dom was with her officially, it was enough to break his heart. If he had emotions. No, no, no, this was Jean-Jacques we're talking about here, he was stone, built like a brick. He didn't have emotions, he had a heart of ice like that Narnia chick. Yes. He didn't cry happy tears when he heard of his brother's engagement. Stupid onions. [color=844dff]'[i][b]Jesus Mary and Joseph, please help my mind. I'm having an inner monologue.[/b][/i]'[/color] He thought in a smooth flow of French, a constant stream of language that connected to each other better than what any English sentence could.

French was a beautiful language but African French could almost be called a "bastardisation" of it by some hardcore linguists. When France came and conquered his homeland, they couldn't get rid of the local culture completely and so when French was implemented as Cote D'Ivoire's official language, pronunciation was off. Influence from languages spoken since the time the indigenous peoples first arrived made sure of it. The vowels sounded stronger than they would and powerful consonants would be emphasised on more than what the father language would emphasise. But instead of bastardising the language, this mix of old, traditional indigenous language and colonial French is something different. When Ivorians speak in their tongue, they are speaking their country's history and culture, culminating in a valley of words.

And thus, when Chloe spoke in perfect [i]Western[/i] French, it took a few cogs in his head to run to figure out what she said. As she pulled him into a hug, he nodded quietly, knowing that she knew enough that it was his equivalent of a smile. [color=844dff]"I could say the same to you, [i]ma belle soeur en droit d'être![/i]"[/color] He whispered quietly into her ear, a quiet wisp of a sentence that swirled into her ear like aroma to the nose. He squeezed her in the hug, letting himself break his steel exterior for a moment before breaking the hug, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He winked at her, his eyes twinkling gold as he was handed his gift, bowing slightly in thanks. 

[color=844dff]"It's no problem Chloe, I don't have any problems with ya givin' me this for a gift. Thank ya."[/color] He spoke with an accent, Jean did. A weird mix of French undertones and American accents paired with influence from the RnB he grew up listening to. It made him sound "fresh off the boat" sometimes but it was unique to the ear. It was certainly attractive to some however. 

Speaking of attractive, he noticed a familiar face, this beauty walked through the line, apologising for being late. He reached out for her to talk but clenched his fist instead, opting for checking his bag instead. He knew and trusted Tish more than most but he could not explain why. She was the brush to his canvas and she has seen all the scars, the bruises and the burns. Most importantly, she knew what each tattoo meant. A M1911 handgun with a bullet escaping from the barrel. The pistol itself was black with a vibrant blue aura around it, surrounding it before seeping into the black weapon itself, the deep blue turning colder and colder until it was only a faint white against the black. The bullet was a wild red, like flames in a fire, uncontrollable and crazy. This represented what he felt. What he felt when he saw his first death, a cool exterior with a crazy, spectacular and maddening explosion of emotions in the inside, wanting to burst out. He still remembered the way blood felt against the skin, the sharp sound that a gun could make. "[i]Inoubliable[/i]". Unforgettable. It was positioned on his lower back, on the left hand side, next to the Cage. She took care with making that one, as she did with all of his tattoos.

He usually decided to take control of the situation and be there in the moment, talking and laughing with the others. But for now, he didn't really feel like doing anything. Instead, he stood with grace, chest puffed out as always. He was willing to keep to himself for now, humming quietly in the corner and letting the couple  in front of him welcome others into the group. And throughout all of this time of course, he was still shirtless.

It was definitely eye-catching, the rippling muscles and powerful tattoos stood out amongst a clothed crowd. Luckily, not many noticed the painful scars and burns. He stood taller than most and he looked as if he was a silent guardian, looking over the group with a keen eye. They were sharp and obvious, his eyes were. There was the light green, beautiful pattern he was born with there wasn't a single flaw. The eyes were a window to the soul and this was 100% the case with Jean. You would see his burning soul, a passionate confidence that shined brighter than a million stars. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be the only thing they would see.

He was snapped from his stupor by the sound of River giving his jacket to him. Shit. he grumpily took the jacket and swung it onto him, making sure to cover his bare chest. He had forgotten, [i]again[/i]. He had done this before, when he had come to the gym without a shirt. And this particular gym had a rule of "no shirt: no entrance" so he was damn lucky that someone had a shirt to lend him. He agitatedly mumbled a thanks in French. As basically the whole group arrived, he was starting to pick up his bags and leave but he was stopped in his tracks by a sight he didn't expect to ever see again.

He may have been stupid in expecting that. She was a close friend to Dom and Chloe, of course she'd be coming with them. This fact did not lessen his surprise to see her there. After she said hi to everyone and said their greetings, she turned to him and their eyes met. He missed her. He shouldn't. This was a love long past it's prime and they both agreed it could never work. He had a fledgling rugby career and she had an aspiring teaching career. Too much work and not enough time. But Jean-Jacques did not care right then and there. He didn't want to do anything else, consequences be damned. Making sure no one was looking, he confidently strode towards her and used his big arms to encircle her in a big hug, making sure not to crush her. It was a gentle touch and as he leaned down to her ear, he whispered only three words.

[color=844dff]"[i]Bonjour jolie dame.[/i]"[/color] He was confident she would recognise them. Them being the first words and all. He quickly pulled away and winked at her, a small twinkle in his eyes before enjoying some light talk with her. Soon enough, the whole group entered the plane and into the lavish lifestyle of first class. He was happy to sit next to Tish, she was one of the few people who actually knew him as a person in the whole group. He was amused through the trip at their antics although most things flew over his head as he was listening to the rhythms and rhymes. Halfway through one of his favourite DMX songs, he felt something thud against his muscly shoulder. Raising an eyebrow, he looked down only to see the proportionally tiny Tish resting her head on his shoulder. He smirked as he heard her snore lightly, the cute sound being absolutely adorable to him.

He made sure not to move for the rest of the flight as to not disturb the (not necessarily unwanted) sleeping form by his side. Jean carefully put a blanket over her and straightened his back, hearing the pops in his back as it curved. It was comfortable and reminded him of the old days when Dom used to come to him for help. His younger brother used to cuddle next to him when he was ever bullied at school and quite frequently, said bullies would be seen beaten to a pulp the next day. He used to be so open to him but now he had a wider support group, his younger brother rarely came to him anymore. Anything that could replicate this was welcomed by him and so when the bell chimed and Tish woke up, he had a small frown.

[color=844dff]"Don't worry 'bout it [i]madame[/i]. I liked it a lot actually, you are, as always, good company."[/color] He responded, quickly suppressing the frown and plastering a smile on his face. As they descended and the plane landed, the group quickly exited the plane and it wasn't long before they got into more antics. 

[color=844dff]"I fuckin' swear guys, y'all just landed and ya wanna play around already?"[/color] He said with a smirk, clutching his rugby ball in hand before dropping it on his foot, giving it a light kick and popping it back into his arms. As River brought out his piece of "art", he grinned unnervingly at him before quickly chucking his rugby ball at the side of his face. Missing, the ball bounced on the wall and flew back into his outstretched arm. His face was set in a serious expression although the quirk on his lips told people otherwise. 

[color=844dff]"Ya better give that to me River or I'll hold you down and let Tish here tattoo a [i]pénis[/i] on your forehead."[/color]