Remy LeBeau (jack_of__hearts) wrote in academy_x, @ 2010-04-08 21:27:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | cannonball, gambit |
Who: Sam and Remy
When: Thursday evening, getting close to curfew
Where: The porch
What: Confrontation
Remy hadn't been back at the mansion for long. Still feeling a strange combination of lethargy from the long car ride and antsy for the same reason, he decided to stretch his legs, hopefully shake off the sleepiness. The Cajun went for a long, long walk outside, almost immediately after they got back in the garage. Logan could grouse all he wanted, Remy wanted some time away from the man finally. Things had been tense since Monday, when he got told off (after coming off that weird high) for being stupid, Logan threw Jean-Luc out a window, and Remy sneaked off to go see some voo-doo priests almost against his will. He still wanted to talk to this Mister Sinister some more. Terribly awful foreshadowing name aside, he wanted that control over his powers. Very, very badly. He didn't care who from, he just wanted it. But he had to make do with the hypnotic-state induced control the priests had given him for now. At least he'd figured out some degree of control over his static shield.
It took him a good hour to finally get back to the mansion, the sun well set and curfew approaching. He really didn't care if he got caught after-hours, despite his grounding. He'd gotten away with running off for over a week, hadn't he? Remy mounted the steps to the porch up, making his way to the door, when he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. Unfortunately, it wasn't one of the female blondes. It was familiar because it belonged to one of apparently many who wanted him taught a lesson - at the very least. Sam Guthrie. Hoo boy. Remy himself couldn't understand why everyone made such a big deal out of the kiss he gave to miss Paige Guthrie, but he knew the animosity existed.
Didn't mean he had to act on it. The charming Cajun mustered up his brightest grin, giving a gentleman's wave, the tips of his fingers brushing for a moment against his forehead, to the eldest Guthrie. "Bonsoir, mon ami," he said, charm dripping off his words even more than usual, as if the charm might help soothe things over.