2012-08-02 A Pair Of Kings

From the look of things, Remy has been here for at least an hour. Long enough to avail himself of some medical supplies, change his uniform out for fresh clothes, and make himself comfortable. A bandage has been pasted across one cheekbone and another covers the side of his neck. The clothes he chose while rummaging through the wardrobe are loose and soft. The way he hunches over the table in the dining nook speaks of hidden bruises. The Cajun has poured himself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, made a pot of coffee, and grabbed up the morning paper. A second coffee cup at his elbow is filled with the butted-out remains of several cigarettes. The television is on, tuned to a soccer match with the volume turned very low. It'd be a cozy setting if he was in his own apartment.

Jason Todd is coming in the window of his apartment like he always does. The red biker helmet is tossed inside first, before he hauls himself through and down to the floor. But then he's getting something on his Bat Senses and the moment he turns around, he's got both guns out and aimed at...

"Cajun?" Jason definitely remembers Gambit from their antics in Vegas and that's the only reason why those guns don't go off in the next second. In fact, both of them are lowered with a slower pace, even though Jason doesn't seem to feel threatened anymore. Still, though, he's being slightly cautious and those guns are not leaving his hands. Not yet.

"I'd ask how you got in here but that'd be borderline stupid. That cereal's a month old, by the way." Quip!

"I know," Remy replies dryly. "Everyt'ing in dis apartment taste like shit. I bring my own milk." He curls an eyebrow at Jason's means of entry. The guns don't seem to bother him much. Probably because he's not much of a threat in his condition. "You a strange one, mon ami. I like you." Despite his cracks about the food, he continues eating his cereal. "So," he says, speaking between bites. "You got a lotta interesting hobbies, homme. Not that I'm judging." The cereal is finished and set aside in favor of the coffee. "I been keepin' an eye on you since me first meet."

"I know."

Whether Jason is telling the truth or not, who knows. But he's got eyes all over Gotham. That's for sure. Maybe he just wasn't expecting a visit. But then again, maybe he's just a liar. It's all the same thing. Either way, the guns are tossed on the table the moment Jason is sure this dude isn't here to kill him or something. But it'd be a mistake to think he's unarmed.

Jason moves over to grab the helmet off the floor and takes it over to a false wall where he uncovers more and more guns and more helmets. It gets shoved onto one of the empty hooks. "This ain't exactly a hotel. So you must be here for a reason. Spit it out." Jason turns to lean back against the wall, once it has been closed back up nice and tight.

"I'd consider it a favor if you didn't kill Selina Kyle," Remy replies, cutting right to the chase. "She's a friend. A kindred spirit, even. She do what she do to support some charity." The thief drinks deeply from his coffee cup, then makes a face and sets it aside. "I also get my ass kicked not far from here. Needed somewhere to hide while I patched myself up. Didn't think you'd mind."

"Kill who?" Jason is about to play dumb, before he ends up hopping over the back of the sofa and getting himself nice and comfortable in his own place. It's a big smirk that's plastered on his face the next moment, while he finishing ticking off possible aliases to Selina Kyle. "Ohhh! Her. I didn't know you and her were a thing." Jason cracks a smile and holds up his hands. "I guess I can let that one slide. But this makes us even for Vegas." Jason is not about to stay in debt to this dude.

"Getting your ass kicked is sort of a right of passage in Gotham. You're part of the city now. Enjoy."

"Even? I could've-- And we're not a--" Remy cuts himself off with a wave of his hand and rolls his eyes. "Okay. Fine. We're even. And thanks for rolling out de red carpet. Every time I try to rob somebody in dis town, it's a trap. What de hell, man?" A hobbling, limping hopstep takes him over to the couch, where he eases himself down next to Jason. "So what's your deal? I've been watching you, but I still can't figure out your angle."

"Do I look like the kinda' guy that'd have an angle?" Jason's offering one of his most innocent smiles. It's a smile that is a blatant lie but it's a smile all the same. But then, considering, he's not exactly in the business of not keeping it real with his possible associates. "Let's just say I'm not a fan of how certain flying rodents handle the crime in my hometown." That's right, Jason's from Gotham. "So I've decided to show him how it's done." Jason shrugs.

"Beyond that? No angle. Just trying to make a living the only way I know how."

"I also specialize in gettin' by," Remy drawls. He cocks his head to the side and considers his one-time partner for a long, weighty moment. He reaches up to scratch at the bandage under his eye while he ponders, then finally continues. "I'm a thief, too, y'know. I steal from people who deserve to lose what's being lost. "I'm not afraid of words like 'sabotage' or 'espionage' or anything like dat. I'm a free spirit. If dat's gonna be a problem, we might as well get it outta the way now."

"The world needs more thieves like you." Jason says, with the first real sincere tone to his voice. "And more problem solvers like me." Jason is not above talking himself up a bit. "Y'know, come to think of it, we could probably do a lot more damage together than apart." Jason smirks and nods towards the Cajun. "Like, for one, I can keep you from gettin' your ass kicked. Something tells me that happens to you a lot." Oh, Jason. The Snark.

"Don't be a dick," Remy warns, pointing a finger. "I'm injured and I could still cut your throat with a playing card from across de room. I've just been... unlucky." He pauses and winces. One long-fingered hand scrubs at his scraggly face. "And having some family trouble. My cousin, he try to blow himself up today and kill us both."

"Dude. I don't know how to not be a dick. Deal." At least Jason is being upfront and honest about all this. He doesn't say anything about the threat, because who knows. Maybe the Cajun can. Or maybe he's got some home turf advantage. Or whatever. He was trained by Batman. He's got this all under control. Maybe. "Family, huh? Don't talk to me about family. I can't help you there. I just stabbed my father a couple days ago. So I know a thing or two about issues." Pause. "Wonder if he's dead yet." Shrug.

Now Remy raises both eyebrows and holds his hands up in a palms-out warding gesture. "You win. Either way, you right. Detter friends den enemies. We work pretty well together back at de casino. I think you and I can make things happen, mon ami. Beautiful, explosive, profitable things. What do you say?"

Jason is up and off the sofa, heading over to the one cabinet not checked by the Cajun and popping it open. Inside is a smaller fridge, which is opened and two beers are yanked out. "I say..." And he turns to toss one in the direction of the Gambit. "Let's make some fuckin' money." And the smile that's on Jason's face is one that pretty much means he's likely already got some plans on the horizon.