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Swept Away
Rplog-icon Who: Gambit, Rogue
Where: New York City
When: August 6, 2012
Tone: Social
What: Rogue goes on the look out for Remy in hopes to recruit him into the Brotherhood.


Rogue doesn't often put herself out there when it comes to recruiting, preferring to leave that to some of the other members of the Brotherhood who are a bit higher up on the food chain. But after having heard about Remy LeBeau she could not help herself and volunteered to talk to him herself.

His reputation gave her enough of a hint as to where she should start her search for the one they call Gambit. First a few of the underground gambling houses were went to and then her search for him is broadened, expanded to include the crap bars and dive joints. Several hours have already been spent on the hunt and she's expecting it to take quite a few more.

It was pure chance that brought Remy to one of his favorite bars not long after Rogue had come looking for him. A tip from a helpful waitress led him to a second location, and another hint brought him to a third. Now he's playing a backward game of cat-and-mouse. He directs her path by leaving fictional clues to his next location strewn about like breadcrumbs. An address written on a crumpled napkin. A tattered business card for a nearby pawn shop. A matchbook from a fleabag motel. All the while he observes his pursuer, sometimes from street level, sometimes from high above. He's watching for an opportunity.

The first time Rogue turns down a secluded alley, Remy leaps down from his perch three stories up on a fire escape. He lands in a loose, easy crouch, straightens up smoothly, and rakes a hand through his hair. "Bonjour," he greets her pleasantly, a roguish grin tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. "You been lookin' for me. Here I am, belle."

Wheeling around quickly puts Remy in Rogue's line of sight but he has the advantage of surprise. She's truly thrown off of her game. "That wasn't nice," she chides in annoyance. "Ah don't like games, Cajun. Jus' remember that." The snapped words are then followed with just what might be a sigh of regret over having been caught like she was.

"Ah've been looking for you, yes," she semi-echoes. "Ah got a... proposal for yew, if yer willing ta listen." That's it. Nothing flowery or poetic. Just straight forward and to the point. Very business like.

Unabashedly appraising, Remy's eyes travel up and down Rogue figure. It's a sizing up, though. A measurement of ability. "Tell you what," he offers. "I hear your proposal. But first you play a game wit' me. Catch me if you can. You look fit enough, chere. You catch me, I hear you out. Deal?"

Another game? What part of her having told LeBeau that she doesn't like games did he not understand? For a second Rogue entertains the idea of telling him to go to Hell and leave but Rogue thinks twice about reacting in such a knee-jerk manner. "Alright. Ah think Ah can do that. Yew got 'till the count of three..."

Remy doesn't even wait for one. He's off, headed down the alley at breakneck speeds. His grin never falters as he skids to a halt, his coattails flapping a half-instant behind him cartoonishly. He pauses long enough to blow Rogue a kiss, then grabs onto a drain pipe and climbs it hand-over-fist, as agile as a monkey and laughing just as loudly.

"Ah hate yew, Remy LeBeau." She takes off after him, taking to flying instead of running on foot. The swift-footed mutant is spotted just as he begins his ascent and soon she's upon him. "Ah should beat the ever livin' tar outta yew," she calls out angrily, "but mah momma told me I shouldn't hit people who are weaker than me."

"Oooh. You got tricks up your sleeve," Remy says admiringly. "Remy got tricks, too."

He kicks away from the wall, then uses his momentum to crash his way through the window to someone's apartment. There's some shouting, a brief scuffle, and the sound of several doors opening and slamming. Seconds later, Remy is launched forcibly through a window two stories up and several apartments down. Some quick work with a grappling hook and a thin, high-tensile line keep him from pancaking against the pavement, though he does let out a WUMPH of air as he crashes into the side of the building. Then he's climbing again, shinnying toward the roof with remarkable nimbleness.

Oh that's not good. Rogue takes to hovering in midair, disgruntled that she lost track of him. "Dirty cheatin' bastard," she hisses just before glass shatters and Remy puts in his renewed appearance. Too angry to think straight, she waits for his grappling hook to catch and him to recover from the impact of the wall before she moves in. If she manages to catch him off guard he'll find himself body checked against the very same building he involuntarily exited, hopefully not enough to hurt him but enough to get his attention.

The double impact is enough to elicit a weak "Woooof..." from Remy as the breath is driven from his lungs. "Mmm," he groans, his approving tone belying his words. "Baby, don't be so mean."

He abandons the grappling hook and rope, braces his feet against the wall, and leaps out into the alley, drawing a knife as he springs. At the peak of his jump, he snags a washline with one hand and cuts through it, using it to swing the rest of the way across to the building on the opposite side. A few quick handholds and footholds take him to the roof, where he pauses to catch his breath.

"Don' be such a baby, LeBeau," is yelled out, getting the occupants of the apartments to yell and fuss even more than before. Remy's watched carefully before she joins him, her eyes narrowing. Rogue's growing tired of this game and is about to pull something dirty. It's just a matter of if she can get close enough to him.

While his new location is approached she takes off one of her glove, a sign that this will not end well.

Remy makes his move first. At this range he's the faster of the two. When Rogue approaches, he sways around her touch and leans close, until he's face to face with her. "Got me," he whispers.

Then, thief that he is, he steals a kiss.

He's fast but not so fast that she doesn't see what he's about to do which is going to amount to being a very big mistake. And yes, she was about to use her powers on him herself but that's different. She knows how long to let a touch linger before it becomes dangerous for the other person but he's undoubtedly clueless which has her panicking almost immediately.

There's an effort to push him away from her made but he's fast and he's able to slip past her defenses and gets the liplock he was trying for in; the powers she possesses kicks in immediately and Remy's life is put into immediate danger.

FWUMP.

Instantly zapped by Rogue's absorption ability, Remy sags to the ground. His knees strike first, and loudly. His eyelids flutter closed, but it takes a moment. In the meantime, he manages a single blink and whispers, "Wow..."

Then he's out, still wobbling from side to side, some primitive instinct preventing him from toppling completely.

As immediate as Remy's reactions to Rogue's powers is so is her own, the Soutern Belle having had enough of skin-on-skin contact with LeBeau to gain his powers as well as his most unusual physical trait. Her eyes which shift from green to the glowing red-on-black of the Swamp Rat's, the glow of which grows is joined by the glowing of the wall as she leans against it to keep from toppling over herself. There is some baser knowledge of how to control his powers that was also absorbed but with as shocked as she is Rogue doesn't know what is happening until it's too late.

With a loud raport the wall explodes; not enough to do more than minor structural damage, it's the volume in which it happens that snaps her out of her stupor. Blinking, she glances first at the building, her eyes returning to normal as she stares, scared, and then to the prone form of the thief as he lays at the ground near her feet.

"Oh... damnit!"

Her glove's hurriedly put back on and then Remy's hoisted onto her shoulder, the woman preparing to fly them off somewhere safe.

FLUMP-WUMP-LUMP.

Remy bounces against Rogue's back as he's hauled up and tossed around like a sack of potatoes. He's breathing regularly and his pulse is strong. No immediate danger of death. His eyelids flutter, but he's still dazed. Lucky for him, their kiss was a bare brush.

The location he'll eventually wake up in is one of the Brotherhood safehouses, a small ran-down, nearly condemmed buildings that no one save rats and roaches bothers to enter. Inside one of the interior rooms it's a bit tidier, sans rodents and bugs, but it's dusty. Must rarely see any kind of regular use.

Remy's laid out gently on a dirty, beaten-down matress that serves as a bed, the foam worn out enough to allow some of the rusty springs to poke through. Looks like he just might get lockjaw if he isn't careful of how he lays, that more of a danger than Rogue presents to him at the moment.

The Cajun's fluttering lids finally open, but it takes several blinks for him to clear his vision. He looks up at Rogue for a long, long moment. He's looking up into his own eyes. "Chere," he says, his voice hoarse and thick. He pauses to clear his throat. "Chere, dat was some kiss. You sweep me off my feet. You take me away to dis... place." The last bit is said disparagingly, but his smile tells a different tale. "Been a long time since such a pretty girl chase lil' ol' me."

At first she's not sure what's more amusing, his reaction to what happened to him thanks to his reckless kiss or the fact that he's still seemingly willing to flirt with her despite that. "Ah did' know where else to take yew," Rogue says as she cringes. This is most definitely NOT how she wanted this to turn out. "Ah am sorry yew got hurt 'cuz of me. Yer strength should return pretty fast, though." Reaching up, she takes her hair out of the ponytail it's been held in, allowing the shoulder length locks to fall free. "Yew got time to talk?"

"I don't t'ink I'm goin' anywhere anytime soon, p'tit," Remy replies, managing to pull an amused face and let out a chuckle, despite being stretched out on a dusty bed in God only knows knows where. He moves, but only to pillow one hand behind his head. "I make a deal, I keep it. You catch me, fair an' square. I hear what you have to say."

"Ah've heard about yew, Remy LeBeau. And Ah'd like to extend to yew an invitation to th' Brotherhood." He might not have heard of the Brotherhood as they're still fairly deeply hidden in the shadow, still working in secret while they can. "Yew'd be a great asset to us, y'know." Plus what better way to keep an eye on him than to have him be on the team?

"Remy LeBeau a great asset to anybody," he replies, his smile turning sly. He bites briefly at his lower lip and eyes Rogue a bit more openly. Part coy, part cocky, and somehow still unreadable. "I already know dis. But please, tell me more. How may I service you?"

With how flirty Remy's been Rogue can't help but to wonder if he might mean that in some other way, one of those cleverly hidden little teases that people sometimes tries to slip in in the guise of being part of the conversation. For the sake of moving things along she doesn't call him on it, choosing to just keeping on with her part of the talking. "Ah think the better question to ask is how yew can service the Brotherhood," she points out. "We're in need of people who can sneak 'round, get in and out of places without bein' seen," she says dryly only to then conclude that with, "People who can get thin's we might need..."

Renegade? Maybe. Theif? Definiately. Still...

Remy's expression is clearly hesitant. He's still smiling. Still flirting, even. He's taking things seriously now, though. "I dunno, belle," he says, managing a shrug. "I'll admit dat I'm curious, but I never really been a joiner. You got a pamphlet or somet'ing?"

Ask and ye shall receive. A folded up tri-fold of paper is pulled out from her jeans pocket and held out, it given along with a smile from Rogue. "There yah are, sugah. Feel free to ask fer me if yew get it into yer head to come callin'." She's not really expecting him to do so but oh well. The ball is in his court as the saying goes.

"I t'ink I prefer to call on you directly," Remy says, a twinkle in his eye as he accepts the bit of paper. "Never have a woman take my breath away quite like you did, chere."

Slowly, determinedly, he hauls himself to his feet and dusts himself off. "Ahem. Which way's de door? Feels like I got a hangover from hell. I kill for a drink right now."

"Close yer eyes," Rogue orders before hefting him up over her shoulders once he complies. Common sense being something she thankfully possesses, she's not about to let him discover where the safehouse is located. A short flight later and he'll find himself on the roof of a bar several blocks over. "There ya go. Enjoy yer drink."

Despite having a tempting view of Rogue's backside as an alternative, Remy does as he's asked and keeps his eyes shut during the ride. It's a rare, blind bit of trust from someone's who's normally so suspicious. When his feet are back on the ground, he cocks his head to the side consideringly. "I don't suppose you'd care to join me?"

Rouge's tempted. There's no real need for her to return home but something pokes at her, telling her to turn down the offer. "Ah best get home. Mother's probably waitin' for me." She lifts a shoulder before shooting off into the sky. Whether she really is going back to the HQ or is just using it as an excuse... it's anyone's guess but he'll have to wait and ask her about it later.

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