1965-02-20 - Meeting Mozelle
Summary: Jp Bonaventure heads to Jackson Square with the X-Ternals to confront his ex- about getting to see his little girl while in town
Related: Plot: Book of Raziel
Theme Song: None

Sunny New Orleans, Louisiana

The X-Ternals were in town with a fleet of basadd defunct angels looking forthings that get them out of trouble? Yeah that'll be … interesting. While they were investigating the current curious patron, however, JP went about the other thing that brought him back home: Confront his ex- Miss Mozelle Delecroix.

There were a great many stories that have circulated in gossip about Ms. Mozelle Delacroix and Jean-Pierre Bonaventure. The story was told a hundred ways under twice as many other names in song and legend. This was the story of a young woman from an excellent home, daughter of a prestigious and respected lawyer, and destined for great things, and a rakish young man with no prospects from the wrong side of the swamp, wrong class, and wrong DNA who had a penchant for trouble. What could be said with absolute certainty was that the more her father warned her away from that young man the more she was not able to take her eyes off of him, and he was crazy enough to not look before he lept. This was especially true when they were 19 and she got pregnant and had that baby all while he was in prison pulling 3-5.

It made today especially difficult.

All morning JP paced around the shitty flat off the 8th ward that they flopped in before the team (He, his brother Severin, Vitale, and Elmo) headed down to Jackson Square named for the prominent statue of Andrew Jackson riding around on that big bronze horsey in the middle of it. One might think they were going to steal the statue or something but no. JP didn't do nervous well, and in fact was oddly quiet and hyper focused all morning.

Sitting on the bench with elbows on knees and hands folded between; head hung and thumbs tapping. He waited as the guys spoke around him nodding only "Naw, everythin' is tres bein. We good." Who he was waiting for one didn't quite know until she showed up and one might swear they could hear JP's heart stop like a clock. She was stunning, in that Jackie Kennedy manner, and looked entirely upper class put together. This could not possibly be the woman in question. Whatever a woman like her was doing with that mechanic ever was bewildering.

The bayou badass pushed himself to his feet to make his way across the cement path to meet her almost within earshot, and almost without.

Anyone expecting Mozelle to be an imperious stone cold bitch was about to be sorely disappointed. Her eyes widened not in a cold contempt as she really had every right to looking on the rogue, but with a warmth. Her hand reached out halfway to reaching for his face but stopped. Her balled up digits pressed to her lips and instead leaned back on her heels. "Jean-Pierre, you still look…mighty fine. How are you? You well?"

JP paused looking stricken stopping maybe two feet from her. Maybe. Finally after a minute passed he breathed, nervous murmuring what might be in French as in response but looking hopeful. Poking the toe of his boot at the paver walkway on the other side of the fountain from where his brother and friends were JP took a look around. Hopeful shifted into concern though the dark brown of his eyes shifting back to her. “Ou est Amalie?” Where was his little girl first and foremost. His hand reached out with thumb and forefinger gesture in an understood What gives!?

Mozelle took a deep breath and reached for the thief’s rough hand taking it into her own, squeezing it leaving him stare at her lost and longing for some answer like a puppy. “I know… I know you want to see her but I thought we should, you know, at least talk first. She doesn’t need to get caught up everything.” Her look was purely apologetic, “It is good to see you Jean-Pierre. I’ll be honest, I missed you but a lot has changed while you were in-… while you were gone.”

Everything in the scrapper wanted always seemed to be in hand as much as it was forever slipping through his fingers making someone wonder if he was constantly in motion to avoid dropping roots or trying to catch it all. He pulled her hand up murmuring something in slurred dialect; a hopeful protect that could immediately translate to: I’m doing good. Real good I swear. Were that at all true though they wouldn’t be in NOLA on the business they were on. JP, however, was forever an optimist, “What? Ain’ like your parents ever like me much any way. We can fix it.” He jaw set frustrated and losing patients, but he didn’t take it out at her, “C’mon, Mozelle, we always been so good. We can ”

The young socialite warmed a smile that turned into a sly grin with some embarrassment on her face. She admitted finally, “Yes things were.. Amazing.” Taking a deep breath it was paining her to actually have to spell this out in bold print. “Look I’m not blaming you, Jean-Pierre. I made this choice too. My daddy wanted me to get rid of the baby because he didn’t want the Devil’s own in his house.” Mutants. Clearly. Her hand tightened around him being as direct as she could holding ground, “You were in jail and I had to have her on my own. That’s not… entirely your fault-”

JP’s eyes narrowed and his tone turned, “Serieusement? La faute de ton pere! You’ papa prosecuted me!” Yeah that one he wasn’t budging on.

There was that fire when Mozelle turned from warm to small infero, “Don’t you think I forgave him for that but you still did what you did. Regardless you weren’t there Jean-Pierre. While I don’t blame you and Ah’ know you tried, chere. I know you did, and that means everythin to me, but I had to face them, and everyone I know, and do this alone. The truth is I changed, and you are still… still the Jean-Pierre I remember. We can’t just go back to who we were.”

The truth was hard and was a lot like bricks: It could build a fantastic foundation, a fortification to protect one, and it hurt like hell when dropped on you. JP’s jaw and chest tightened. The moment felt an eternity before he found what he wanted to say. “ Mozelle,” He took a few deep breaths remaining calm, but appearances aside the hurt was palpable, “you told me you loved me.”

She winced. She still had feelings for him. She always had and she clearly always would. She also had an insane sense of responsibility he lacked. Now it was on her to be the adult here. Tears clumped at her mascara, but she kept her chin high and her words soft; she knew this was not something he was ready to handle and at least was trying to keep him from blaming himself too harshly. “I did, Jean-Pierre,, more than anything and that changed. Now I love her more than anything. And someday? She turns out like you? She’s gonna need someone to turn to. Some things can’t be amended by fighting, fixing, or stealing. “ Some truths needed to be said and needed to be heard.

Pulling her heels off the ground she grabbed the mechanic’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips. Once in their life they would come together and could set the city on fire with the heat off that. This? This was goodbye. He didn’t want to let her go, but you can’t hold onto the past if it’s not there. Her hand brushed his cheek and she chose her words carefully regaining breath and composure.

His fingers felt her hands slip out of his and he didn’t care that there might be people watching. His words lost their thunder. Mozelle wasn’t… wrong. He asked her in French, «’Does she even know who I am, Mozelle?”»

She walked backwards not wanting to turn around, but the question, though a wound to his pride and fear cause her with some amusement. He wanted to be a good man, but he wasn’t that man yet. “Amalie? Yeaaaaah she know you. I tell her all your best stories when grand-pere ain’t around. She hides a picture of you too. She does love you..” That she could at least give him; that peace of mind that he wasn’t a criminal and a villain in the eyes of his kid. “Try to stay out of trouble so you can be there for her when she needs you.“ Noticing Severin there she lifted her fingers in greeting to him without malice before walking out of Jackson Square and past the two individuals in grey suits watching as spectators as this went on.

He didn’t look up. He couldn’t watch her walking away. He was left with too much on his mind and a lot of growing up to do. Looking down he laced his fingers behind his head roughing up the back of his hair and granting harbour to the emotions playing across his face. Finally he walked back empty handed to the guys.


This was going to call for a lot of alcohol.

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