2012-08-20 A Little Push...

It's several days before the mysterious Gambit makes good on his end of his bargain with Rogue. When he does, he's not terribly subtle about it. A large box arrives by messenger. There's dress inside, black, short of hem, long of sleeve, and low of neckline. It's simple and elegant without being fussy. Matching pairs of silk gloves and tall, stylish leather boots have been helpfully included.

There's also an envelope. Inside is a matchbook from Ca Va, a popular French restaurant in Midtown. There's also a note written in Remy's thin, spidery script. It says:

Tonight.

9:00.

The word 'Tonight' has been underlined.

Ever since the night Rogue made the promise she has been kicking herself, unable to keep herself from wondering if she's not twenty kinds of crazy for agreeing with Remy to let him take her out. She has spent a few hours off and on trying to figureo ut just how to get herself out of this, that idea fueled by the notion that any date with the Swamp Rat can only end in tears.

As the days go by and there's no word from Remy Rogue manages to relax, thinking that perhaps he forgot about it. So picture the belle's dismay when the package and the 'invite' arrives. Again, she entertains the idea of not going but the obvious care he has put into every detail has her swiftly changing her mind and, with an inward sigh, she steels herself for the evening to come.

Enough time is given for her to doll herself up and by around 8:15 she's ready, dress and accessories donned with a pair of black stockings added, that to keep from as little bare flesh to be exposed as possible, and her hair and makeup done as close to perfect as she can manage. Since flying will only serve to muss her she does the unusual for her, that being putting out a call for a cab. Now all that is left to do is pray that traffic's light this evening.

Remy has chosen a black outfit designed to accentuate Rogue's. His shirt is simple and the top two buttons have been left undone. His suit is well-tailored and soft; designed to hug his lean, muscular frame. The coat is long in the back and has a Mandarin collar. A pair of gloves have been added for him as well, though his are leather and only have half-fingers. He has passed on a tie, but has picked up a new pair of tinted glasses to help keep his profile low. These have rectangular, cognac-hued lenses. He pushes them a fraction higher up on the bridge of his nose and examines himself in the mirror. "Mmmrrr," he purrs as he runs his hand through the casual layer of stubble that he never seems to be rid of. "We're so, so pretty."

There's no one else in the room.

Moments later, he's roaring down the street on his motorcycle. Apparently, being mussed isn't something that he's too concerned with. He pulls up at the valet station, cut his engine, and tosses the keys to an intimidated-looking teenager in a red vest. "Just don't press any buttons, me," Remy advises.

He's early, so he digs a battered pack of cigarettes and a stick match from one of his interior pockets. The match is struck with his thumb, a filter twisted between his lips, and flame is touched to tobacco. "Ahhh," he sighs happily as he exhales. "Dat's de stuff."

Traffic. It's not as much of a problem as is per the norm but things are a bit slow, making Rogue arrive twenty minutes or so after she entered the vehicle that came to pick her up. It eventually arrives at the restaurant and Remy's date's swift to exit the cab once the driver's paid, her expression slightly flustered. "Thanks," she offers to the cabbie and then she turns around, closing the door with a hip.

It doesn't take long for Rogue to find Mister LeBeau, the sight of whom gets butterflies to dance in her stomach. "Calm down, girl," she whispers to herself, not about to give Remy the pleasure of seeing her giddy. Takes her a few deep breaths but she finally gets herself together and she begins her approach, smiling in a manner that is surprisingly genuine. Yes, she is happy to see him.

When Rogue arrives, Remy sends the remnants of his cigarette spiraling away with a flicks and steps up to meet her. "Bonjour," he greets her. "I wasn't sure you'd like de dress, but you look lovely."

He's obviously pleased to see her as well. No surprise, as this was his idea. He holds out a hand for her. "Good to see you again. Shall we? I hear dis place is very good."

She finds herself wanting to lean in and give Remy a kiss on the cheek but doesn't allow herself to show him that kind of affection, not wanting to cause a scene by having him suddenly go unconscious while here. What she does allow herself to do is take his hand and allow herself to be led inside. "This is nicer than Ah expected," she admits. To be honest, she had herself convinced that Remy was more the bar-and-a-brawl type and that he would take her out to his usual hangouts.

It probably goes without saying that she is pleasantly surprised

Another slow breath is taken in and is then slowly exhaled, the last of her nervousness pushed aside once she is done. "Well, shall we?" A side-glance is given to her date as she asks that, the look given with a smile that borders on bashful. Poor Rogue. She's not exactly in her element here and she isn't sure how to act.

Fortunately for her, Remy is more than willing to take the lead. He tugs her inside, through the reception procedure, and into the dining room. Though they pass many open tables, the hostess continues to lead the pair deeper and deeper into the restaurant. At one point, Remy turns to look over his shoulder and wink at Rogue.

Finally, they reach a small private dining room. There are only six tables, and none are occupied. The hostess hands them off directly to a waiter, who is already standing next to one of the tables. After pulling out chairs and setting bread and water on the table, the waiter drags a standing silver bucket from one corner and draws out a bottle of champagne, which is popped and poured. Then, finally, they are left alone with the menus.

Everything's fancy. Way fancier than Rogue's accustomed to and she finds herself becoming immediately lost as she tries to navigate the selections offered. "Don't know what to choose," she whispers, looking at Remy from over the top of her menu. This is like a dance she doesn't know, something she's stumbling through and she's looking at him to guide her through this.

The glass of champagne is taken and sipped from as she tries again, once more attempting to figure out what's what only to just as quickly give up. With a quiet laugh and a blush she sets her menu down. Someone has officially given up on trying to make heads or tails of it all. "Ah know this isn't what a woman typically asks nowadays but Ah need yer help, Remy. Would ya be a doll and order for me, please?"

"T'would be a delight," Remy says. His companionable grin turns an awkward moment for her into a favor done for him. He studies the menu, but only briefly. Someone has done his homework.

After an appropriate length of time, the waiter reappears at their tableside. "We start with de crispy oysters. And den de salmon. De lady and I will talk about dessert between now and den."

The waiter nods, bows briefly, and departs. Once he's gone, Remy returns his attention to Rogue. "Dis is fun. I've always wanted to do dis," he admits, candid and comfortable. "I was worried dat renting a room would be creepy and quiet, but I like it. No distractions."

Rogue smiles at the waiter, watching his reaction to Remy doing the ordering for the both of them. She has to wonder if this is something he's used to or if he'll find it strange or old-fashioned. When the watier goes to place their order she is back to giving her date her full attention, Remy looked at intently.

"Ah don't think it's creepy at all," she assures, a hand reached out for his as if to offer comfort to him. "Ah think it's sweet, really. Ain't ever have been treated so nicely by someone. Thank you..."

Making herself a bit more comfortable, Rogue sits up a little straighter, making herself at home. "Ah don't like bein' around other people much so the room's perfect."

"I can see why you might feel dat way," Remy says, still grinning as he takes Rogue's hand in his. He pauses to sip from his champagne flute and let out an appreciate rumble. "Mmm. S'good. So, I don't know anything about you, chere. Tell me something. Name five things you're good at."

Most of her recent conversations involved being insulted by Quicksilver or the subject of how evil humans are and the plight of mutants who are being opressed by those seeking to cull them so when asked about herself she doesn't know how to respond. Genuine interest in her? Not something common in Rogue's life. "Ah ain't good at a lot," Rogue starts to say but the self-depreciation ends there and she pauses to think.

Just what is she good at? It's a very short list, not even numbering in the five Remy requested, but she wants to try. For him. "Ah'm good at caring about others," comes the first thing, her voice halting here and pausing there as she speaks. "And Ah think Ah'm good at... uh. Ah'm good at beating people up." That gets her to twitch and suddenly she laughs, blushing from hair line to the hollow of her throat. "And Ah'm horrible at this, it seems. Ah'm sorry, Remy."

The Cajun lets out a low, rich chuckle. "S'fine," he replies, waving away her apology. "Just a lil' game. No need to get all worked up. Though pink is a good color for you."

He's interrupted by the tinkle of glass breaking. A small dart zips across the room and buries itself in the wall a scant inch from Remy's head. It's quickly followed by a second and a third. Moving far too fast to follow with the naked eye, he bats the second dart out of the air. The third catches him in the side of the neck. He claps his fingers to it and yanks it out, cursing in a mishmash of French and English. "Damn. Dat hurt. What de hell is..."

He trails off, slumping forward over the table with the tranquilizer dart still clutched between his fingers. That's when they start pouring in through the broken window. Members of the Assassin's Guild, clad in armor similar to Remy's, but black. They are joined by the hostess and waiter, rounding their numbers out at an even dozen. The hostess and waiter are each holding some sort of bulky pistol. All of the assassins are in the process of drawing and deploying a very familiar weapon. A telescoping bo staff.

One of them points his staff at Rogue. He moves with the swagger of a man who's used to being listened to. "Just walk away," he commands. "Forget about us. Forget about him. Leave the restaurant quietly. If you scream, we'll kill him. Then we'll kill you. Nod if you understand me."

The speed everything transpires in leaves Rogue baffled at first, missing the darts until the third finds its target and Remy's out, that taking a second or three to sink in. The confusion she feels is added to when they're joined by those seeking to ruin their night out. "So much for havin' the rooms to ourselves," Rogue drawls, looking at those now present and then the weapons as they are wielded.

Rogue can take quite a beating, this something she's certain of but she's not too sure about LeBeau, unaware as to if he's wearing his armor under his suit or not. Looks like she'll be protecting him tonight.

As prompted she nods slowly, trying to make it seem like she's agreeing to let them have their way while gloved fingers curl around the tables edge. In one rather fluid motion she's standing quickly, yanking the table out from under Remy's head, the piece of furniture then hurled towards the group of thugs. Hopefully this will confuse them enough to buy her enough time to get them the fuck out of there.

This is definitely an unexpected development for the invaders. They scatter in all directions like bowling pins, scrambling to stay on their feet (or get back on their feet.) Both the waiter and the hostess are completely flattened, taking them out of the fight. It'll take a few seconds for the rest of them to assemble.

Meanwhile, the thoroughly unconscious and now unsupported Remy FWUMPs to the floor. Champagne and bread go flying in all directions, soaking both he and Rogue.

"Ah don't know what y'all got against the Swap Rat," Rogue says as she moves on, fists flying towards one of those who seem like they'll pose the biggest threat, "but Ah aint happy that y'all ruined our date." Another punch, another target, Remy's belle so angry that she doesn't even notice the mess she's made of the dining room or of Remy and herself.

Rogue's temper might not be as epic as some people's but she's mad, enough so that she's got tunnel vision and her mind settles onto one thing, that being getting enough of the foes taken out so she can make with the egress. If Remy was with it he'd see just how good at the fighting thing she is.

Though they're well-armed and armored, this crew isn't prepared to take on an adversary as powerful as Rogue. Those who stay standing long enough to attack are stymied by weapons that bounce off of her. They aren't as fast as her. They aren't as strong as her. They definitely can't take a hit like she can. In seconds, those who aren't unconscious are fleeing through the same window they used as their entry point. "This isn't over," the leader promises as he pulls himself over the sill. He's the same snide man who threatened Rogue.

Rogue's anger ebbs as fast as it flared, dissapating as fast as it hit once everyone's gone. The mess is finally noticed as is the prone form of Remy as well as those of the jerks who came and destroyed everything. They're dealt with first, thrown out of the window with little to no concern for their well-being, that helping her to feel a little better. Once the enemy is completely rid of she turns and goes to check on Remy.

"Ah don't know what they were wantin' with you," she whispers while kneeling down, moving to roll him on his back so she can check his pulse. For all she knows, that dart could have been poisoned and he could very well be dead. "... but Ah got the feelin' they will be back."

Remy is groggy, but he's coming around. Pulling the dart out quickly seems to have done some good. He blinks his eyes open and smacks his lips, trying to work moisture into a mouth that feels dry and fuzzy. "Ooooh... Merde," he mumbles. "Dey come back. Dey always come back." He coughs, clears his throat, and shakes off some of his disorientation with a full-body wiggle. "Man. You did all dis? Dat's... kinda sexy, actually."

"You sure know how to show a gal a good time on a first date, Remy LeBeau," Rogue says with as much of a chuckle she can muster, trying to add a little levity to the situation. It's lightness she's not feeling so it just winds up flowing from her flatly, making her wince upon hearing it. "Who were those goons," she asks while sliding closer, moving him as well so he can rest his head on her lap once she's seated on the floor near him. The commentary about what she did gets nothing but a nod.

As inviting as Rogue's lap looks, Remy is working on getting himself upright. It's a slow process, mostly because he's still not completely conscious. "Nnnnng," he groans. "I hate bein' drugged. Ahem. Uh. If I had to guess, I say dey friends of my ex-wife. Which is a long story--" he says, his voice rising in pitch and one hand flying out to stall any outcry. "--that I tell you when we get de hell outta here. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like explainin' all dis to some waitress when she walk in."

The news of Remy having been previously married shouldn't matter. It should not mean anything to Rogue but she finds herself frowning, displeased by the knowledge that he had someone in his life in that capacity. "Ah agree. C'mon, Swamp Rat. Let's get outta here."

No longer being gentle, Rogue gets to her feet and hefts Remy to his, exhibiting her strength by doing so easily, assuming he doesn't fight her efforts on getting him upright without his assistance. She'll further her attempt to get them out of there fast by picking him up over her shoulder and flying out of the window. There's no destination in mind, however. She just has one thing in mind at the moment, that being getting as far from there as possible. In hindsight, she'll be glad she's wearing those black tights. Less of a chance of someone getting an embarrassing upskirt thought.

"Ooof--but--woof--I didn't--ow!" Too smart to resist but not smart enough to completely keep his mouth shut, he grumbles against Rogue's backside as he's lifted, tossed, and hefted around. "It's for your own good, Remy," he mumbles to himself. "Just keep your mouth shut and look at de pretty backside."

At first they just fly in circles while she tries to figure out a place to lay low for a while, this lasting five... maybe even ten minutes before she can decide on a destination. Once her mind's made up it takes them no time at all to alight upon the roof of the Empire State Building. No, not the observation deck but one of the ledges that is above it, a place that anyone without the gift of flight will have difficulty in reaching.

Remy's sat down and then Rogue sits with him, her legs crossed right over left at the ankle. "Sorry 'bout that, LeBeau. But Ah didn't have time to ask you to hold my hand." Not that it'd be a pleasant flight for him as flying isn't like it is in the movies where all it takes is for you to hold hands with someone else and they can fly along side you. No, he would have been dangled like a ragdoll if she were to try that.

"De view was nice," Remy admits. He sits down next to Rogue and lets his legs dangle. Wind tugs at his champagne-soaked coat, flapping and slapping the lapels about. He shrugs his shoulders around until the wind subsides and he's no longer being smacked by his own clothing. "Thanks. For saving me. I know how it works with dem. You could've just walked away, right?"

Rogue reaches over to brush off a bit of something off of Remy's champagne-sodden lapel, a gentle touch compared to how she all but threw him over her shoulder in her haste to leave the restaurant. "Ah could have, yes," she utters with a shrug, "but Ah wouldn't have been able to live with mahself if Ah did." Whatever was on his suit coat has been brushed off a bit ago but she still runs her fingers over it, her expression soft. Almost angelic, even. "Ah jus' didn't want to loo.." The blush is suddenly back and her hand is pulled away as if his coat is now made of flame, her eyes wide.

"Didn't want to lose me?" Remy asks, his voice light and teasing. "You got to have me before you can lose me, chere."

He reaches for Rogue's chin, careful to cup it only with the gloved parts of his hand. He makes eye contact for a few long, wistful seconds. There's an implied desire there that isn't difficult to interpret. Then, gently, he releases her.

Remy must possess some kind of ESP or magical sense as to how to make her feel better which is what he does almost immediately. Rogue can't put a finger on it, though. Is it his smile and the ease he seems to be in while with her or is it the little things he does like how he touches her? It might not ever be figured out but it doesn't need to be. What matters is that she feels like everything is alright when he holds her chin, her blush fading to a light pink.

"Ah doubt a man like you'd want a gal like me, Remy," she whispers after he pulls his hand away from her face.

"You presume an awful lot for a girl who only been on one date with me. Half a date, even," Remy corrects himself. He's still teasing, a boyish smile tugging at his lips. For all his scruff and rumpled clothing, he really is just a kid who loves a good adventure. Even being drugged hasn't seemed to diminish his spirit. "But we did have an agreement, p'tit. I'm a man of my word. You still wanna go back to your Brotherhood? If you do, I'll come with you. Just to have a look around."

A shoulder brushes against Remy's closest arm, her way of showing affection for him. "Ya just can't leave the Brotherhood," Rogue says, "but tell ya what. You come back with me, see what ya think about it all. And once you can form an honest opinion on the subject we'll talk more." Not a 'no' but it isn't a 'yes' at the same time. It's instead an offer for further dialogue on the subject once he's ready.

"So you never planned on keeping your end of de deal?" It's clear that Remy's feeling duped. He narrows his eyes slightly. "Dis just a way to get me to come with you? Well. A promise is a promise. Let's go den, yeah? We fly or take a cab?" Grunting, he hauls himself to his feet and dusts off the seat of his pants. He hesitates a moment, then offers a hand to assist Rogue.

"Remy, no. Let's talk a bit first. So you can understand." The hand isn't taken, yet. She instead tugs on his sleeve, trying to get him to sit back down. "Ah... Ah do. Ah do want to leave. Ah jus' don't know how. And mah mother..." It really isn't easy to explain and she wants to. God, how Rogue wishes she could say it all and just get it out there. She gets to her feet and she looks at her date, her eyes holding to his. "If you can help me then yes. Ah will leave. Ah jus'... Ah can't do it alone." Her lower lip becomes trapped by her lower lip and while she doesn't... can't say it it should be obvious to Remy that she doesn't want him to go.

The Cajun softens a bit, but he doesn't entirely relent. "I get it. Life is tough. You shoulda just been straight with me, even if we were just making a silly deal and we both knew how it was gon' turn out. So let's go home and meet your evil mom." More amused and bemused than annoyed, Remy can't help shaking his head and snorting out a laugh. "I swear, de shit I get myself into. Dis should be good."

He might not be angry but the way he acts gets Rogue's hackles up a bit, something about his attitude getting her to bristle some. The front of his coat is grabbed for and then she shoves back, trying to pin him to the wall behind them. She isn't trying to hurt him but is instead trying to get his attention, being fairly gentle despite her actions. Gentle for a woman with her strength is subjective, of course, and he just might find himself with a bit of dust falling upon him if he is forced against the building's facade hard enough. "Remy, Ah didn't know how it was gonna turn out," she breathes, leaning in close to him. "Ah wanted to keep the promise but Ah didn't know how Ah was gonna wind up feelin' about it."

Shivering as if cold, she continues to press in against him, about to kiss him. Either she's forgotten about what happened the last time they locked lips or she's just too caught up in the moment to care. Means Remy's in for another world of hurt if he can't get her to stop.

Remy lets out a little gasp and his eyebrows shoot up when he's tossed around. His breath is taken away. Literally. Still, he closes his eyes and prepares to accept the kiss willingly. Then, at the last second, everything changes.

He grips Rogue by her arms and spins them both around, turning the tables on her and pinning her against the wall. "Drop me off at home, okay?" he whispers.

Then he kisses her, this time knowing fully what the consequences will be. As soon as he makes contact, he sags bonelessly against her. Unconscious. Again.

The facade sends another light shower of dirt down upon them as the roles are reversed, her eyes going as wide as the thief's did when she all but slammed him against the building to begin with. When he goes slack she holds him up, giving his lips a quick brush of her own one last time before she lifts him in her arms. It's rather like a cover of a romance novel, really, the way she holds Remy cradled to her body, like he is some kind of damsel in distress and she is his heroic prince charming coming to save the day.

Rogue sighs a bit before she flies towards the apartment that Remy calls home, that being where she'll be when he comes to. Yes, her mind has been made up, for better or for worse.

The Brotherhood is about to be down a Rogue.