The Temptation Of Rogue
Rplog-icon Who: Gambit, Rogue
Where: New York City
When: Late night, August 16
Tone: Social, romantic
What: Rogue goes to surprise Remy at his place and winds up down a path she does not like.

Over the years Rogue has learned one thing. That is that no matter how much you might try to conceal your trail there is always a way to find the clues you're looking for. Like the address of the place someone you're tailing is staying at. It took a little time, a bit of money and then a little waiting for the time Remy's out before she can mak her move.

It is about 3 in the morning, dark and quiet for the neighborhood and the interior of the place is shrouded in shadow. A chair has been pulled into the darker of them and that is where she is now, merely content to sit and wait.

A heavy key rattles into the lock and the deadbolt retracts. Remy's home. He shucks his coat and tosses it across a priceless statue that's doing little more than sitting around collecting dust. The rest of the oddities in his apartment are much the same. Tiny treasures, bits of artwork, relics of forgotten civilizations. Some more interesting than valuable.

It's only when he takes a few steps further in that he notices he has company. "Why hello, chere," he greets her, apparently neither surprised nor displeased to see her in his home. "You look breathtaking dis evening."

"Ah was wonderin' when yew were gonna get home, Sugah," Rogue says while leaning forward, letting what light comes in from a nearby window illuminate her face. She has a playful expression on her face and even in the low light there's a sparkle in her eyes. "Was also wonderin' if yew have given any thought to mah little proposal."

A fluid motion has her rising to her feet and Remy's joined where he stands, her eyes holding to his. Nothing else is said but she does reach out, seeking to stroke a gloved hand over the Cajun's right cheek.

As before, Remy allows the touch, despite having nearly been flatlined by Rogue once before. He's even smiling. If nothing else, it's proof that he's not afraid. In face, he takes a step closer, closing the distance between them to a scant few inches. "Mostly I t'ink about you," he admits. "But I t'ink about it some. Let me ask you dis question. Why your people care so much if I believe in dis cause? If dey know me well enough by reputation to make dis offer, dey know I never break a contract. You could just hire me. T'would be simpler, no?"

His being so close puts an ache in Rogue's heart and her chin eventually dips, her gaze and hand lowering in near-unison. "Yew don't wanna think about me, Cajun. It's dangerous." Personal space is regained when she takes a few steps back, her arms wraped about her defensively. "An' why wouldn't yew want to join us," she asks, her eyes lifted slightly. "It ain't like we're bad people, after all." She truly believes that. In her mind they're not bad at all. Perhaps a tiny bit misguided and such but nowhere near 'bad'.

The Cajun crosses his arms over his chest, a thoughtful counterpart to Rogue's gesture. He's wearing a smart outfit, a slate grey vest, matching slacks, and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled back and the top two buttons undone. Elegant, despite his casual disdain for regular shaving or anything like an iron. "Causes, dese are messy," he says, shaking his head. "You want to change de world. Save it, whatever. Right? Got some big plan about how mutants are better den everybody else. I don't buy it. We all just people. Last person I met who said different was a bad, bad man."

Part of her balks, not really wanting to discus this. It is instictive, habit for her to close up when certain topics are broached. Even topics that were brought up by her. But the need to get everything off of her chest outweighs the desire to keep herself bottled up and she continues to speak. "We jus' want the hate to stop, LeBeau. Tha's all. Can yew blame us for wantin' those... those jerks from continuin' their abuse of people who are different then they are?" The speech sounds dull in her ears, lacking the luster she remembers from her past, a time when she was still young and impressionable. Now she's more experienced and jaded and the words tumble from her without fire or conviction.

"Maybe not. I didn't t'ink about it like dat." Remy strokes his whiskery chin, apparently pondering the issue from an entirely different angle. An angle that makes it more difficult to dismiss. "I dunno, belle. I spend so long just gettin' by... I don't know how I'd fit in. How 'bout you? Why you join up wit' dese people?"

"Mah mother got me in not too long after th' Brothehood was established," Rogue says with a light shrug of her shoulders. "Ah guess she thought Ah 'ad somethin' good they could use. Some kind of big advantage they could use." Sounds like of like what she told Remy when she was trying to recruit him, doesn't it? "Ah don't know, though," she continues on, arms hugged so tight about herself now that she can barely breath. "Ah don't really like some of those mutants Ah work with, Ah'll admit. And Ah don't think they really like me, either."

"You sound like you havin' second thoughts. Maybe you not such a good recruiter, eh?" It's a gentle joke. Remy's smile takes any edge off of his teasing. He reaches out to her as well, laying a hand on her upper arm. The reassurance of physical contact. It's a basic, human connection. "What can you do, to be such an advantage? Besides make fools like me pay when dey steal kisses, dat is."

"'onestly? Ah'm a horrible recruiter." Ho boy. Pietro would have kittens if he were to hear Rogue admit to that. She almost says something to that effect but then her arm is touched, causing her to flinch as if scared. "Ah... when Ah touch mutants Ah get their powers. Sometimes for a while, other times it seems like forever." Like her current group of powers, ones she filched from Ms. Marvel during her darker days in the Brotherhood, back when Rogue really believed in what they stood for. A time when she was less afraid of hurting the people she stood up to. "It ain't purdy, what Ah can do. An' they seem to like to take advantage of it whenever they wanna."

Remy grips Rogue's arm just a little more firmly, moving with her when she flinches and offering no resistance, but retaining his touch. He's not rough. Just persistant and confident. It's body language. 'I'm here and I'm not afraid of you.'

"Nobody should ever take advantage of you but you, belle," he tells her. "Never." He pauses, clears his throat, and lowers his voice a notch. "You can fly, too. And you seem pretty strong for such a trim lady, if you don't mind my sayin' so."

The comfort he's offering is accepted quickly and is even taken advantage of as she moves closer to Remy again, her hands sliding up and over his shoulders so satin-covered fingers can play over his nape, her head bowing slightly so she can rest it upon his shoulder. Looks like his silent message has been read loud and clear.

When he does speak she can hear his voice as it rumbles through him, a pleasant vibration that soothes as well as everything else. "Ah know," she whispers, her own voice mufled against his body. "Ah jus' don't know whatelse to do, Swamp Rat. It ain't like Ah can jus' run off and do mah own thin'."

Now Remy grabs Rogue by both shoulders and holds her at arm's length for a moment. He stares into her eyes, his brow furrowed quizzically. "Why not?" he asks. And it's a genuine question, too. "Why can't you do whatever de hell will make you happy?"

His piece said, he scoops the troubled girl into his arms and gives her a reassuring squeeze. "Sounds like you been used and abused, but you never had a chance to be yourself. Now seem like as good a time as any."

Is this what it's like? To be held? The last time she was embraced like this was years and years ago, back before Rogue's powers manifested. Back when she was simply Anna Marie and back in the hippie comune with her parents. Back when eveything was so less complicated. Been so long since she has felt so... alive. "Ah don't think Ah know how to do that," she whispers while looking up, her neck craned at a slightly awkward angle so she can look into his face. "Maybe yew know someone who can 'elp with that?"

The ne'er-do-well lets out a low, rich chuckle. "How 'bout we make another wager? You let me take you on a date. You spend de whole day wit' me. Den, when we done, you tell me true if you really wanna go back to dis Brotherhood. If you do, I come wit' you. Meet your friends."

Red and black. His eyes should be dangerous. Intimidating. And they can be. Not now, though. He's smiling, and he seems genuine enough. "I promise if you promise."

That's an offer that Rogue's not sure what to do with. Is she really able to do something like that. The first thing that comes to her mind is to tell her that her mother will not approve but that'd open herself up to questions about Mystique that she isn't supposed to answer. And secondly? Remy doesn't really seem like the type to take no for an answer which means he'd probably just hound her relentlessly until she agrees. "A'right, LeBeau. Ah'll let yew take me out for a date."

"Excellent. Den my work is done here." Remy lets go of Rogue and steps back. He makes a show of dusting off his hands, scooping up his jacket, and putting it on. "It's late, y'know. I should go. Oh, wait. We're at my place."

Grinning, one eyebrow curled, he slides back out of his jacket and tosses it aside. "It really is late. Unless you were planning on staying?"

If Rogue was 'normal' she'd jump at the chance to stay and probably would wind up giving poor Remy a run for his money, as it were. But it's best not to put herself in the line of fire where temptation goes so she shakes her head. "Nah. Ah better get goin'," she says, frowning a little when she does. "Ah'll... yew... yeah. Yew got mah number. Give me a call... for the date." Face hot to the touch now, Rogue falls quiet, too embarrassed to continue. She just leaves out the window she had come in through earlier, seeking to get away so he can't see her die of facial combustion.

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