2013.08.27 - Lost Souls

Texting? Yes. Texting. Rogue's phone has been blowing up lately. Sporadically, though- conversations that stop and start with maddening frequency. Usually late at night, and sometimes running for an hour or two, sometimes for an entire evening.

It wasn't until the idea of dinner had been broached that Remy had suggested meeting up somewhere 'real world' with Rogue. He'd proposed a little restaurant tucked away in Metropolis, the sort of place that's more bar than restaurant, and the sort of place you share with a friend or an employer as a poorly-kept secret.

Indeed, inside the bar, there's a deliberate air of shoddy, well-loved repair. The lights are intimately dim, and the tables a bit scuffed, the bar dented with the pockmarks of clumsy feet. Still, the smells coming from the kitchen are delicious and there's a lively sort of family air about the place.

Remy's taken a seat in a corner booth, an amber colored drink sitting in front of him. He looks out the window with a distant sort of air, idly moving a pair of poker chips back and forth on his fingertips with a bit of casual legerdemain that makes them shuffle and dance back and forth across his fingers.

Rogue had to admit, when she first got a text from the fine fellow with the unusual eyes it made her day. Perhaps her awkward but cute charm actually worked on someone. The gal also hadn't made too many friends yet in Genosha, so it was a nice little break.

She made arrangements for a short trip to Metropolis, and made it to the restaurant in time. She was dressed in a black off the shoulder shirt and green jeans. When she spotted Remy in the corner she tossed him a smile and made her way to him, "Hi. Hope Ah didn't keep you waitin' too long."

"Nah. Like sittin' heah," Remy says. A grin works across his face, his eyes flickering lazily up and down Rogue's form as she approaches with an appreciative eye. "Sometime some of de boys play a game of poker wit' me, or Mamma Em buy me a little short stack of pancake. And dey don't water down der drinks, either." He sips what smells like whiskey, rattling the ice cubes in the glass at the waitress. "You like sometin' to drink? Beer or sometin'?" he inquires of the woman. "Dey got some real good eats heah, too. Only good jambalaya in de city," he proclaims proudly. "Better'm mine, even. An' Remy make a good bucket o jambalaya," he adds, grinning mischeviously.

She slid into the booth across from him and looked up at the waitress, "Ah'll take a beer. Whatever ya got on tap, thanks hun."

She leaned back into the seat looked around at the place, "Yeah some Jambalaya would about hit the spot. Starvin'. So yer a good cook? Good to know. Ah'm alright when it's somethin' like omelettes."

"Only way I could git a good meal some day," Remy says, lounging indolently in his seat. He grins at the waitress as she comes over with a fresh drink in hand, and immediately takes a sip of the amber liquid. "Spen' lot of time on de road, up north heah sometimes, in de Midwest for bit. Even did a bit of time in California. You start missin' a good bowl of gumbo, so, y'all learn t' make do." He shakes his head, moving his head to adjust his bangs away from his brow. "So what you do, Anna?" he asks the woman. "You work, or jes' sit aroun' lookin' gorgeous all de time an' let dat work for ya?"

Rogue leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, and brushed a bit of her white fringe from out of her face, "Workin' in Genosha right now, bit of this. Bit of that. Still trying to find my place there."

She was silent for a few moments and looked over Gambit, his last statement almost answered the question for her, "You ever get the feelin' that you don't really fit in anywhere? Ah'm starting to get that."

Gambit just /stares/ at Anna. He stares at her until his eyes- those deep black and red eyes- make the point for him. "Honey, ah ain't ever fit in /anywhere/," Remy says, quirking his mouth wryly. "Why you tink I on de road all de time?" he asks her. "Been run outta more towns den I can count. N'awleans is de closest thing ah ever had to a home, an' I don't like to hang out der more den ah have to," he admits. "People lose too many games of poker, der girlfriends start talkin' to me, suddenly ah'm jes' another mutant makin' trouble. So, y'know. Ah'm used to stayin' on de move. Make a life outta not havin' anywhere to live.'

Okay so her question was a little obvious. Whoops. She pressed her hand to her face, "Yeah Ah guess that was a little obvious. Gonna blame it on the hunger."

She calls out to the waitress, "Gonna need some Jambalaya over here, thanks hun!"

Dramatic subject change!"What exactly is it you do anyway? You don't really talk too much about what you actually do. But I do appreciate all of the selfies I get."

She laughs and sips at her beer when it's brought to her.

"Professional gambler," Remy says, tilting his drink Rogue's direction. "Work a bit all over de country. Make a few bucks heah an' der, playin' poker mostly. Sometim' if de pickin' real slim, do some mechanic work. I rebuilt that Indian out there," he says, nodding at the classic bike standing up just outside the window. "Took me a while but I learn a lot 'bout it." He sighs and looks skywards, contemplatively. "Lessee. Work as a riverboat guide for a spell, did a bit with a circus for a few month. You look like dis, you take what job you get, oui? Be grateful for it," he says with a nod. Remy tilts his drink back and takes a lingering sip, smiling again at the waitress as she arrives with Rogue's beer. "So what you doin' on Genosha? You part of dat 'mutant movement' dere all talkin' bout? New Homeland an' all?"

Rogue smirked and bit at the side of her lip. This guy was just a little /too/ cool. He knew it. She knew it, but she could keep her own cool, "Quite the job title. Ah didn't think anyone actually did that cool."

She touched at the rim of her glass, "And yeah, Ah guess. Kinda wanted a new change of pace. Wanted some space from the X-men, money dried up. Of course as soon as Ah got there Ah ran into the thing Ah was running from. Of course."

Remy makes a gesture and produces the ace of spades from out of nowhere. He grins crookedly and shifts his fingers, the ace of hearts peeking out from behind the first. With another flick of his wrist the cards disappear. "Keeps de kids entertained, breaks de ice at parties," he laughs.

"Ah met a few of de X-men. Seem decent folk. Bit stuck up if you ask me." He eyes Rogue appraisingly. "So what you runnin' from, mon ami? An' what you run /into/ on Genosha?" he asks her.

She let out a girlish giggle at the sight of the second card, and then takes a long chug of her beer at his question, "Family. 'Nuff said, am I right?"

"Wouldn' know," Remy confesses with a nonchalant shrug. The food arrives at that moment, a brace of bowls filled with steaming gumbo, Louisiana style right down to the dash of pepper floating on the surface. Remy reaches for a spoon and dishes himself up a healthy bite, making a satisfied sound and crunching down on the crisp vegetables in it.

"You gonna stay on Genosha, den?" he asks her. "Kinda weird bein' stuck on an island. An' dat Magneto guy, he scary as hell. Couldn' pay me 'nuff to go within a mile a him. Ah was all up on my toes de whole month he was in New York. Decided minght be smart to spend a little time down south while he was heah."

Rogue immediately swallowed a spoonful as soon as the dish was placed in front of her. It was still a little to hot but the piping hot deliciousness was worth it. Being a lady, she swallowed her food and padded a napkin to her face before responding, "For right now, Ah guess. Still can come into the states whenever Ah've got a good reason to."

She flashed him her brightest smile.

Remy grins back at Rogue. "Well, good t' know you'll be gracin' our doorstep now an' then," he says with a deprecating tone. "Hate t' think of ya hangin' out on dat island all de time, jes' pinin' over ol' Remy sittin' back heah in de states." He takes a few more bites of his gumbo, then polishes off his drink and waves the cup at the waitress again, getting her attention with the rattle of ice cubes. "You got a boyfriend, Anna?" he asks her. "Guy back in Genosha? Or you de love 'em an' leave 'em type?"

Rogue rolled her eyes as she washed back her meal with her beer, "Pinin. You sure got some confidence Remy LeBeau. And no, no 'boyfriend' or whatever. Let's just say my mutant power doesn't exactly help my romantic life."

Above it all, Rogue was lonely. Anyone with any sort of sense could tell. But she did what she could.

"I get dat." For a moment there, Remy's not the suave master thief, or the heartbreaking roadster. He's one mutant sitting across from another mutant, and there's a long beat of true empathy that doesn't take a telepath to decipher. Loneliness comes in many forms. Anna can't touch another being- but Remy will never, ever, be able to walk among humans without being treated differently, for good or for ill. That moment lingers for a while, even after he offers that crooked smile at Rogue and takes another bite of his gumbo.

"Well, guess more luck for de men of de world," he finally offers, adding a playful grin to the compliment.

She caught that brief pause in his normally suave demeanor. Perhaps they really did have more in common than she thought. She took a few bites of her truly delicious meal, "Yeah, like they could handle me."

She offered him a small smile, "What about you, Remy, any young phillies out there who catch yer interest?"

"Dere's one or two, but Remy like to stay on de road," Remy admits. "Hard to keep gals around when you on de road 'much as I am," he says, sipping his whiskey. "Ladies like a man who can show up Friday an' still be 'roun Sunday night. Ah don' know where ah'm sleepin' tonight even, let alone two days from now. Might decide to hit de road an' see what Vegas is like. Not a lotta gals like datin' a guy who live out a backpack on de back of his motorcycle."

Rogue is silent for a few minutes as she feels those butterflies in her belly and suddenly she bursts out, "Ah'd like to go to Vegas. Let's go."

She takes a couple more bites to finish off her gumbo and lets out a big smile, "That is, if you are up for it mister 'professional gambler' and all. You and me."

Remy kills his whiskey- which is at least his third of the night- and gets to his feet. "Why not? Vegas soun' good dis timea yeah anyway. Might as well take a good lookin' piece of arm candy wit' me. You ever see de Strip at midnight? Time Square got nothin' on it."

He tosses a wad of crumpled up bills on the table, enough to cover the food and a tip, and starts heading out with a relaxed meandering stride. The waitress runs up and gives him a hug and a peck on the cheek, which Remy returns, and with Rogue in tow, heads out to the night and the Indian sitting outside.

Rogue had some responsibilities to take care of, and screw em sometimes it was time to take an impromptu vacation with a handsome man. She linked arms with him and when they were just outside of the restaurant she placed a hand over his mouth and kissed the back of her hand, "Haven't traveled nearly enough. Given the chance Ah'd like to see the sights with you."

"Ah'll show you tings that'll blow your mind, mon cherie," Remy says with that crooked grin that simultaneously makes him look more boyish and more roguish. He twirls the keys to the bike in his fingers and settles into the saddle, cranking the engine over with a thrilling roar of four cylinders. "Hop on de back," he nods, getting the bike into position. "We got a ways to ride, so ah hope you got 'nough to eat."

With Anna on the back of the bike, Gambit brings the bike towards the road, then noses it out towards the expressway- and jumps on 95 West, headed out of Gotham to the mountains, then the plains beyond.

This was a bad plan. Rogue knew it. She was supposed to be on a boat back to Genosha the next morning with Magneto and the rest who had made the trip to the states. But there was something about this man, Remy that spoke to her. So she needed to ride it out. And a trip to Vegas could really explore that. As they rode towards the horizon she wrapped her hands around his waist and pressed the side of her face against his shoulders, making herself comfortable. This could be quite the trip. She spoke just loud enough, so he could hear her above the wind, "Surprise me, stud. Ah'm ready."