He glanced back over his shoulder as the soldier yelled at him, a pitying smile quirking the corner of the Cajun's mouth as he raised his hands to show he was harmless, the metal he had used to pick the locks already hidden away.
Oh it was likely that Gambit was going to end up in so much trouble, but it'd be worth it. An idea that was confirmed as he watched the man go pale and frightened as Victor stalked toward him. He blinked a little at ending up holding the man's glasses, but just tucked one arm in the collar of his shirt, somehow doubting it'd be a good thing to lose anything belonging to the feral man.
Running from a predator meant that you were obviously prey and unfortunately for the soldier no one had told him that. It was an exercise in an amusing sort or futility, watching the soldier run when faced with the impossibility of being faster than the bigger man, but damn if it wasn't entertaining.
"Go get 'em, m'sieu pussycat," he drawled to himself with a smirk, whistling innocently as he moved to get a good view of the impending show as Victor chased the first soldier down. The anticipation of blood had him wanting to hold his breath, and damn but maybe this was the sick little thrill the spectators got when they were watching the fights in the arena. Remy almost felt bad about being excited about it. Almost.
Mostly he just felt self-satisfied by his part in the impending carnage. After all, they were only getting what they deserved, and Remy would tell as much to anyone who would've asked at finding the Cajun sprawled on a bench and smiling as he watched.