Remy and Rogue
If there was anything that Remy liked it was killing two birds with one stone. A date with Rogue, the prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi, and meeting up with an old associate from his days as a thief. Technically he was still a thief, but at least now he had steady work with the Summers' family. He never burned those bridges from his youth, though, and keeping that connection paid off especially when Beauregard - or Beau as Remy called him - called him on the phone earlier that day.
"Remy? Beauregard. Can we meet, homme?"
"Beau? It's been a long time, ami."
"I found someting dat don't sit right wit me."
"All right. Tonight by the Italian place down the street from Blossom's."
That was the extent of their conversation, barely enough for anyone to glean any information from it, but the urgency in his voice told Remy all he needed to know. The Cajun always wondered how Beau was able to be a thief considering his sheer size, and looks. He was anything but unassuming with his blonde hair, thin mustache, height, and width. He was the furthest thing from a thief, and yet he still managed to get the job done. The man never was never seen with a woman, something that made Remy think he liked to swing the other way. Remy didn't care, just so long he didn't swing toward him.
Remy smiled at Rogue from across the table, taking in her beauty with a smoldering gaze. His thoughts were the furthest thing from pure, but that was the only thing he could do with her. Look, but don't touch. How the hell was a thief not supposed to touch something he wanted?
"Enjoying your meal?" He reached for his glass of wine, and raised it to his lips for a small drink. Though he was talking to Rogue his attention was trained on the door as he waited for Beau to arrive. He wanted to know what his old friend had to show him. Whatever it was Remy had a feeling it was going to be important, and that nothing would be the same after.