[h3][i]Then[/i][/h3] [b]"Frenchie, this is crazy! These are not street thugs, these are real capes and cowls, gods and monsters, superpowered villains!"[/b] The line the sniper had been waiting on. The line that always gave way to checkmate, no matter when it was used. If he were in any kind of mood to revel in it, he might even smile as it drifted across the battlelines. [color=royalblue]"Marc... Steven... Jake... I hardly think you're in a position to identify what counts as crazy. Oui?"[/color] Of course he was right, but that was besides the point. [color=royalblue]"And we've dealt with our share of Gods and monsters often enough already. Au jour le jour, no?"[/color] He started the rotors on the Mooncopter. Within an hour it would be torn to shreds around him, at [b]HIS[/b] hands. Simon Maddicks. The Killer Shrike. [color=royalblue]"This is our quotidienne..."[/color] [hr] [Center][img]https://i.imgur.com/knxuQ0h.jpeg[/img][/center] [center][color=yellow][h3][b]Q U O T I D I E N N E[/b][/h3][/color][/center] [hr] [h3][i]Now[/i][/h3] It still hurt. From below the knee. The pain where there was nowhere to feel pain. The phantom limb. Just like the pain he still felt even though Marc was long gone. "C'mon! Harder old man! I know you still have more in you than that!" [center][img]https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/9/96/Jean-Paul_Duchamp_%28Earth-616%29_from_Moon_Knight_Vol_5_24_001.jpg[/img][/center] Jean Paul emphatically through a whirling heel kick at the heavy bag. Stopping just before he hit it, with exquisite control. [color=royalblue]"Enough with the 'Old Man'. It is not you, Rob, and it rings false."[/color] [color=royalblue]"I think... it is enough for today. If for no other reason than because I might be tempted to show you just how much remains in this old man. And I would hate to ruin such a pretty young face."[/color] It hurt. He was still thinking of Marc. Of the Killer Shrike. Of what was taken from him. Quick to distract to mask the hurt. The loss. "Aww... you're such a sweetheart." [color=royalblue]"Sweatheart, no. We work tonight, and I'd hate to have to try and explain the bruising. Telling the customers of our fine establishment you dropped a tray of h'ors d'oevres, I suspect."[/color] "Ha!" Jean Paul sat on a low bench and rubbed at the prosthetics. "Is it still hurting? Because--" [color=royalblue]"I know."[/color] "--said it would--" [color=royalblue]"I know."[/color] "--phantom limb--" [color=royalblue]"Je suis consient--"[/color] "--it's not uncommon--" [color=royalblue]"I know. I KNOW. I'm aware. Je suis consient! I know all of this. You're talking about things conceptually that I know and have to deal with daily. No old man. No mothering. Find a happy middle ground, Rob."[/color] "Oh God, I'm mansplaining your injuries to you!" [color=royalblue]"I... guess..? Is that even a thing in our current relationship situation?"[/color] Jean Paul had not been 'out' as long as Rob and was far less comfortable navigating the social waters. When he was younger the lifestyle was taboo, Rob was of a younger time, a time where he could be far more comfortable in his skin. Rob gave a singular laugh. [color=royalblue]"It is patronising though. But understandable. You are a personal trainer after all, I'm sure you have to be like this with a lot of your clientele. And I'm sure that for a lot of them it's helpful. But you're not telling me anything new. It is... a lot."[/color] Rob squeezed his shoulders from behind. He sensed words probably weren't going to help how Jean Paul felt right now. Silence gestures could do more. [color=royalblue]"And it's not 'injuries'. Injuries heal. My legs aren't coming back. This isn't about finding a way to build back strength as they mend."[/color] [color=royalblue]"It's about finding a way to keep moving forwards. To keep taking steps without them. And I have. And I can."[/color] Jean Paul leaned back into Rob's hands. [color=royalblue]"And you've helped with that. But the pain that still lingers. The ghosts. Some days they are just more difficult than others."[/color] [color=royalblue]"I can walk, I can run, I can kick. But that pain some days will still irritate and nag like--"[/color] "Me?" [color=royalblue]"Ha!"[/color] Now it was the frenchman's turn to laugh. "More than most, it's the man without legs who know the importance of balance." Rob said. [color=royalblue]"Poignant. Philosophical sounding almost, even."[/color] "Yes, I'm sure Sartre said it." Rob smirked. "No. It couldn't have been. Because if it was Sartre I'm almost certain it would have been you saying it to me." Jean Paul threw a towel at the younger man's face who easily sidestepped it and laughed. [color=royalblue]"The thing about the balance is it's not year-to-year. It's day-to-day. Minute-to-minute. And with [b]THAT[/b] you help."[/color] [color=royalblue]"Even if you are a young bouffon..."[/color] "Bouffon, imbécile, idiot..." Rob said, immitating the older man's deep french accent. "Why, whatever could these words mean?" He laughed. The older man threw an arm around him. Enough words. And the pair made their way to the locker room, to get changed for the dinner shift.