After a pause, Jean-Paul turned to Tabitha. "...What hair products?" He questioned, sounding insulted. How dare she insinuate that his locks were anything but natural, which they were, one hundred percent. Just because she was jealous of his being able to achieve such a wonderful look without spending hours in the bathroom didn't mean she had to be snippy about it.
"As do I," he retorted, grabbing hold of Tabitha's finger, implying that he could do something as bad as anything she could think of. When he let go, he only did so that he could turn back to Dante. "Pft, she's not really the fairest person." No, that probably wasn't true, Jean-Paul only felt that it was for him. Then again, he was the exact same with her, so it wasn't a problem.
A dark expression came over Jean-Paul as he snorted at Dante's question. "I don't think it's something you can actually define," he mused over the intricacies of their relationship. "We're not friends, but we're not exactly enemies." As he shrugged and let his gaze wander over the room, his attention spreading out from his immediate company like someone unable to focus because they have too much to worry about, he began to subconsciously play with a chunk of his hair, twirling it between his fingers; it was no wonder that people commented on it so much. "We did meet here," he finally added, attention suddenly returning with only a few seconds gone.