InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Yabba Dabba Doo!"

Ororo Munroe (storming) wrote in x_flashback_x,
@ 2008-09-18 00:04:00

Entry tags:

gambit, storm

Who: Storm, Gambit
When: either Monday, August 11th, 2008 [post-apocalypse] or
Thursday, September 20th, 2007 [pre-apocalypse]
Where: Xavier's; Storm's classroom, the grounds, Danger Room
What: Someone's a skiver.
Status: in progress
Rating: PG

"That's all for today, guys," Ororo concluded. "Those papers aren't due until next week, but don't put them off until the last minute," most faces were no longer on her, at this point. It was like clockwork with these kids. Her eyes were on the back of a few particular heads, however. Some of the older students had taken to shirking off homework entirely, let alone procrastinating. But one individual hadn't bothered showing up to class today at all. And she knew he was well, she had seen him eat his share of breakfast (if not more). She never remembered Scott or Hank-wait, yes. Hank had eaten 'that much' and 'that often'.

She closed her lesson plan when she reached her desk and began clearing some of the specimens she'd prepared. They needed to be closer to the windows. While she worked (quickly), her mind chased down the paths that Remy usually wandered. She'd start at the beginning and work her way to his room. For a loner, the guy was hardly ever in his room.

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raginxcajun
2008-09-18 01:57 am UTC (link)

Slouched in a rigid wooden chair in a cluttered corner of the library, he was the picture of brooding, Attention Deficit Disorder-ridden rebellious trouble-child glory. On the table before him was the mountainous figure of a remedial biology textbook and a small dappled orange obviously filched from the cafeteria. He wore a pensive, almost absent face and his eyes were fixed firmly on the sunlit grounds outside the nearest window. Never at peace or ease with the monotonous rhythm of the academian life, he had quite deliberately chosen not to attend Miz Monroe’s nine a.m. power lecture at the full risk of her wrath. He had not planned, however, to leave his bed so willingly or to find himself in the library of all possible places. To avoid the leery glares of the librarians, he had pulled the hefty textbook from the reference shelves and sifted idly through its as-yet-unfamiliar pages, but for the most part he had come to mull over his plethora of quandaries and secrets.

There was something mentally stimulating about the simple elegance of the architecture and about the way the pale daylight filtered through the high, arching windows and illuminated the rows upon rows of book spines like a vast faded rainbow. With a melancholic sigh, Remy shifted forward in his seat so that he could rest a jutting chin on the calloused palm of his hand. He never liked rainbows. There was nothing for him here besides a handful of creative Cajun cracks and a (moderately) sanitary bathroom. His melodramatic spell brusquely dissipated when the school bell screamed bloody freedom and he snickered wryly beneath his breath as if to substantiate his own ridiculousness. Running a spindly fingers through the curtain of his hair, he rose to his feet, snatched his orange from the library table and walked out with a swagger in his step. Intent upon replenishing his mojo by enjoying a smoke before interacting with anyone this morning, he hung cigarette from his bottom lip, stuffed his hands into his pockets and sauntered towards the neared exit.

His wandering gaze fell quickly on dark, striking features (set in a conceivably irate expression) framed by a shock of white hair and he flinched. Halting abruptly and spinning so that all that was visible to Storm were the harsh lines of his back, he adjusted his sagging jeans, fiddled with the collar of his trench coat, tugged the cigarette from his mouth and awaited his doom.

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storming
2008-09-18 08:29 pm UTC (link)

Arms crossed, feet planted, Ororo wasn't coming to him. When she'd gotten within range of LeBeau, she stopped and took her stance. At least he looked like he knew he'd done wrong. It wouldn't have even been so bad if he hadn't looked so smug seconds before. "Remy?" she waited for him to turn. Even if he didn't, she began her expression of frustration. "I know your thumb isn't green." She couldn't blame him there. Some people just weren't science-minded. Or biology-minded, for that matter. "But your hand is red. So fess up." Her chin raised slowly, tilting to the left and offering him the best 'I'm listening!' expression she could muster.

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raginxcajun
2008-09-19 12:01 am UTC (link)

Before turning slowly on the heel of his boot to face his would-be pursuer, he raised both his hands in a placating gesture and donned an infamously puckish grin. “A’ight. Gambit come clean.” Reaching for the dappled orange in his pocket, he ambled leisurely towards Ororo and cast his eyes towards the floor as he halted before her. “I stole dis from the cafeteria and I apologize profusely. Forgive me for I have sinned.” Fruit poised in an extended hand, he fixed his features in an expression of mock sincerity and calmly awaited her response. Meanwhile, the crowd of students hurrying to their classes dissipated and they were at once alone in the hub of a wide, vacant corridor.

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storming
2008-09-19 03:12 am UTC (link)

Oh, by the Goddess this boy thought he was a charmer. Well, he was a charmer. She couldn't resist laughing at his confession. Her smile was quickly stifled and she uncrossed her arms so she could wave her hand at the orange. "At least it's fruit and not a Pop Tart." She didn't mind if the students (or adults) snatched snacks, and she assumed Gert didn't either. Nor was his fruit thievery the issue at hand.

"I meant that I wanted an explanation for your absence in class today, Gambit." He had either been avoiding the subject, was legitimately sorry for stealing, or a combination of both. She assumed the former. "I know it isn't your favorite thing to do, but you can't learn any faster by missing lessons. The more you participate, the faster you finish." Her lips twisted to the side, briefly. "I don't have a lot of time to go over things with you one-on-one, but I will if it comes to that." There. She was putting forth an effort. Perhaps her fellow ex-bandit would step up to the figurative plate. He could leave whenever he wanted to... but he had agreed to participating in an education, and the staff had taken him under wing. Looking across at him now, she found it extremely difficult to be cross with the mesmerizing little crook.

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raginxcajun
2008-09-19 10:09 pm UTC (link)

A fleeting smirk lifted one corner of his mouth as Storm allowed herself a healthy chuckle, but by the time she finished articulating her malcontent, it had faded entirely and the small orange had disappeared more quickly than it had come into view. “Save y’strength, Storm,” he drawled with a wry scoff, his features resting in a neutral expression and his eyes squinting ever slightly as if to smother an upsurge of some unwanted emotion. “Can’t teach a lame dog to walk proper.” Shaking his head, he met her gaze for gaze briefly before turning to advance towards one of the hallway’s slender windows. Propping his shoulder against the adjacent wall, he crossed his arms and focused his attentions on a tiny brown spider creeping along the cool glass.

“I ain’t after no self-esteem booster shot, ’Ro. Mais I ain’t come here to remind myself o’ what I can’t do neither. I got some smarts. You see it. Xavier saw it. But I just can‘t use ‘em in da classroom.” Shrugging exasperatedly, he shifted positions abruptly as if to jettison any excess melodrama and stuffed his hands in his pockets, mind racing for a clever segue into a different, less personal and more comfortable topic of conversation. Remembering that Ororo was one of the few people (and even fewer women) who knew his every subtle social stratagem, he sniffed impassively and lunged blindly for the comic. “That is a lovely light fixture,” he began, his elocution straying amusingly into something akin to Scott’s as he pointed towards the tiered lamp hanging from the ceiling. “Is that new?”

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storming
2008-09-20 10:25 pm UTC (link)

"I wish admitting defeat came more easily to either of us, Remy." Then, this situation would be a lot less bothersome. She knew he was smart, and she knew he had potential. When all was said and done, however, Ororo found it difficult to force the issue. When she had been a student, she had depended greatly on Hank (and sometimes Jean) for help with homework in multiple subjects. Her English hadn't been great, and she had been in a similar situation as Remy. She sighed, resting her hands once again on her waist. Then, she mimicked his shrug. "Times are changing, and I think this is important. But if I've learned anything in my time here, it's that no one person is right about everything." Not even the Professor. Sometimes, you had to steer your own ship. Fine.

"It is as old as you, actually." She stared back blankly, not impressed or amused - at least outwardly. "If you're so interested in the fixtures, maybe you could clean them? After all, you won't need the time for studying..." The white-haired educator turned then, and began to walk away. "That wasn't a request," when she glanced back, she was smiling, however. "There's a ladder in the broom closet down the hall."

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raginxcajun
2008-09-22 09:48 pm UTC (link)

The barest quirk of one dark eyebrow was the only indication that he was in any way put off by Storm’s clever rebuttal, and with a risibly raucous sigh, he reclined against the window seat and offered his superior a smug salute. “Only for you, Cherie. Only for you.” As much as it seemed contrary to his rebellious nature, he was no stranger to hard labor, and as Ororo continued down the empty corridor, he advanced towards the broom closet and proceeded to burnish the light fixtures.

*****

He awoke from a well-deserved nap some five hours later to the harsh beeping of his institute-issued pager, hair tousled and eyes glowing dangerously as he snatched the device irritably and tilted it upwards from where it hung at his belt so that he could determine who had been charitable enough to deprive him of sleep. After reading and registering its contents, he yawned broadly, shook his head, draped his trench coat over a broad shoulder and exited his dorm. “Gambit comin’, Miz Munroe.”

The descent to the sub-level was longer, quieter and lonelier than he remembered as most of the students and staff members who utilized the elevators were supping in the cafeteria or elsewhere on the grounds. The metallic clack of his boots on the unyielding flooring was the only sound to accompany the blaring of his thoughts as he approached the Danger Room, and as he halted before its silvery circular doors, he began to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves in anticipation of the X-Woman’s arrival.

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storming
2008-09-24 08:47 pm UTC (link)

There was no southern approach. Instead, the doors of the room opened in their epic fashion and behind them stood Storm, hands at her sides, chin up, game face on. Her lips curved easily up into a smirk. She raised a hand and beckoned Gambit forth, then added, "Come in, you are choosing our scenery."

Aside gaining a small peak into his character, or at least his personality, Ororo had little reason for allowing Remy to choose their artificial location. Sometimes, it just made people more comfortable to be in preferred or familiar surroundings. And this exercise definitely wasn't about making Gambit uncomfortable - quite the opposite.

"The glens of Scotland to Bourbon Street," or the outlying areas of Cairo. Smile. "Just say the word," she began retreating into the dark, metallic emptiness of the Danger Room and the doors began to shut again, whether Remy was inside yet or not.

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