Jean-Phillipe Colbert/Bevatron: Following the the fight against the Avengers, the Colbert cousins spend some "quality time" together while recovering.
Jean-Phillipe made a relieved noise. "Angelo has had to help me with feeding and the like in spots, and it is not any less humiliating the second...or however many-th...time around." Just having to wear Angelo's casual laying-around clothing and not his own was bad enough, really. "Do you have a preference as to the type of terrible television we should be catty at while eating all of this?"
"As I said, five seasons of Project Runway, should you be so inclined. I have the one with.." Marie-Ange rolled a hand. "Oh, you know the one, the blood orange wanker, and the one who hates her." She took her phone out of her pocket. "Already loaded and I know I can broadcast to your television. I can also get the terrible monster makeup one, the terrible body painting one, the terrible cake one..." She paused. "Oh, and the Great British Bake-Off, which is not terrible but is going to make both of us hungry for food I do not have here."
"And that is before even delving into other countries and languages." Jean-Phillipe huffed. "Decisions." He perked up. "Oh, I found an article on strange reality television premises, and managed to find some of those as well. We have..." He racked his brain, trying to remember. "People searching for Bigfoot, Vanilla Ice among the Amish, and my personal favorite for insanity - people attempting to clone their pets."
Finding that list was the easy part. The hard part was maintaining enough composure to say "no, no, no, and also no." before Marie-Ange started giggling, which hurt. "Oh goodness each of these is too terrible to watch. I think we should stay with fashion or food, I want to relax, not consider if I can afford a contract killing on television producers." She sat on the couch, the far end from where Jean-Phillipe lounged, and then pulled a quilt down from the back of the sofa. "Shit, I forgot the snuggie."
If there was any doubt that the pair of French expats who prided themselves so very much on being put together in every situation were far beyond the point of pretense or caring what others thought, the serious discussion of snuggies should have allayed that. "Laurie obtained one for me the last time this happened. I believe it is somewhere in the back of my closet." Jean-Phillipe shrugged. "I am not feeling cold at the moment, I will let you know if I need it."
"Your boyfriend is already half a snuggie, why would you need another one?" Marie-Ange said, out of habit. "Do you think if we look terribly pathetic he will make milkshakes? I have promised not to make a mess of the kitchen that Topaz would have to tidy, so I cannot make the attempt on my own."
"My boyfriend is not always around to act as my personal snuggie?" Jean-Phillipe retorted with a chuckle. "I believe if we are pathetic enough, yes. His mother seems to have passed on her caring-for-people instincts to him."
"To be fair, half of Angelo's loved ones do not take good enough care of themselves, or are habitually prone to overdoing their powers use." Marie-Ange wasn't so tired that she couldn't prod her cousin a very little bit. "If you suggest I am one of those people I will scoff at you. I did nothing of the sort, I overexerted myself physically."
"Yes, because picking fights with monsters likely several times your size with questionable regard for your safety is not in any way comparable to overexertion with powers." Jean-Phillipe in turn was not so worn out that he could not raise a sarcastic eyebrow at his cousin's ever so slight hypocrisy. Of course, she was technically correct in that it wasn't a powers issue, and he knew how much she enjoyed being technically correct. Besides, even with nobody else around, they never exactly came out and admitted concern for the other one's well being. It was simply not done.
Marie-Ange stretched out a leg, poked her cousin with a toe and frowned. No sharp snap of static. He had overdone it. "No I was wrong, I am too tired to toss insults back and forth, I am out of clever things to say. No one is dead that I care about, I have broken ribs, I vote for terrible gluttony of snacks and Project Runway and the I will help you wash your hair so you do not have to ask your boyfriend."
"Very well. I am also too tired to object and insult, but let it be noted that the hair washing is under duress."