Le Diable Blanc (remylediable) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-07-09 21:37:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | demalgre, gambit |
Who: Gambit OT Vanessa DeMalgre
When: Saturday, July 4th (backdated)
Where: Meeting room underground
What: Vanessa is not happy with Gambit's loss in the tournament
Warnings: Mild language and mild violence
Notes: Log written in google docs, complete
Gambit hurt. His throat was raw, ringed with a violent mass of bruises from the first fight, and his second match hadn't exactly been easy despite the fairly passive role he took in it. He hurt from the beating, but he wasn't unable to walk out of the arena on his own will so it wasn't like he needed a healer. What Remy needed was a couple aspirin, a shower, and a long sleep. He'd feel a world better then, he had definitely survived worse.
Hell, he would have just settled on getting to curl up on his cot and sleep actually, his head hurt after being knocked out. Unfortunately, that was not to be, not when the guards told him his owner wanted to speak to him.
Vanessa's anger had been obvious to him as he picked himself up off the dirt floor of the arena, despite how well she might have schooled her expression while around the others in the VIP box he was just too good at reading people. Not sure whether to be annoyed or smug over what was sure to be a scolding about his performance, Gambit followed the guards as they led him to her, wondering just how long this would take.
After the fight, Vanessa excused herself from her seats and disappeared from the bulk of the arena. She would settle the rest of her betting later in the day. She sent for him immediately, reserving one of the rooms beneath the arena for their 'conversation.' Keeping the fury from her features was difficult and she wasn't sure she succeeded given the wide berth the guards gave her as she stalked down the corridors and into the room.
When the mutant in question arrived, Vanessa dismissed the guards. Given the state of him, she doubted he would try anything more than verbal insults tonight. After seeing him fight, she was inclined to keep the collar remote upon her person at all times, even if it was out of sight. She stood in the center of the room, placing her hands on her hips and glaring for all that she was worth. It might have been more effective if she were not in a short gold and blue patterned dress.
"Well, I hope you enjoyed that," she stated once they were alone, wasting no time on pleasantries. It wasn't as if he deserved it. She looked him over with obvious disdain, noting each and every scratch and bloodied bit. "I suppose we can add masochism to the list of your charms, can we?"
"Non et non," he said dismissively. "Not 'xactly how Gambit'd prefer t' spend his days. Let me just tell y' now M'mselle DeMalgre, Gambit didn' 'njoy it, ain' ever gonna, jus' like he ain' ever gonna be y' fightin' dog. Comprenez?"
Vanessa wasn't just angry, she was pissed. Now that they were close, her fury was something hot and buzzing against his head. He wanted to smooth the sharp edges of it with his charm but now that he was out of the arena his powers were once again suppressed by the collar around his throat. Instead, he tried to just make light of it, lending no weight to the childish woman's anger with him. In fact, he simply smiled at her.
"Don' say Gambit didn' warn y' he was a bad investment now."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she bit back an angry retort. She would not let him goad her into stooping to his level. She would simply not do it. Her fingers tightened on her own hip, reflexively curling in response to her rage. Still, the childish exclamation escaped before she could reign in her emotions. "You lost on purpose!"
It was inconceivable that someone would want to lose. To take that sort of punishment without stopping it. She knew he was better than that in the ring. She'd seen him. It just wasn't fair! Taking a deep breath, Vanessa tried to work herself back into calm. "You only spite yourself, Gambit. I'm not the one barely standing."
As if to illustrate her point, she reached out to poke him hard in the ribs. It was a vicious jab intended to hit at least one of his sore spots. She had been paying very good attention, after all.
"Gambit lost on purpose?" he said, huffing something that might have passed for laughter. "Y' sure y' saw wha' y' t'ink y' saw? 'cause Gambit seems t' remember dat he fought, played dat lil' game we all 'ere fo' an' weren' no one callin' foul, ev'ryone got de show dey came t' see."
It is a piss poor excuse, and he knows it even as he's saying it. He might have tried to make up a better one if she hadn't hit him. It wasn't even particularly hard, but she seemed to catch him just in the perfect spot to make pain flare through his chest, causing his breath to catch sharply. He might need a little more than aspirin before he went to bed.
"Y' know, Gambit don' feel particularly spited by anyone 'xcept you, M'mselle DeMalgre," he ground out between his teeth, smirking at her. "But, might be you jus' rub Gambit de wrong way s' all, s' yo' bonne chance dat Gambit's père taught 'im not t' hit girls."
"Obviously your pere didn't teach you much of anything useful. Like common sense." Feeling particularly spiteful about his words, Vanessa jabbed him again with her finger, this time punctuating her speech with each little poke at his already bruised person. "I. Own. You."
She glared up at him, setting her jaw into a stubborn line. Vanessa found his eyes unnerving. They were so foreign and strange, and if she were being honest, just a little bit interesting. But she met them all the same, refusing to flinch back from him or his threats. She knew what sort of damage he could do with those powers of his. But it was just that simple: Vanessa DeMalgre did not flinch.
"You can lose until you can't drag yourself from whatever cot you call a bed but it won't change that simple fact." She eyed him appraisingly, anger simmering beneath the polished veneer. "You can either live with that or choose to die. But we both know you won't do that, will you?"
Her poking at him wasn't going to get much of a reaction from the thief. It was unpleasant, absolutely, and even a little painful as she unerringly found his sore spots, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of making him take a step back.
Instead he stepped closer, surprisingly quick as he reached out to catch her by the wrist and wrench her arm back.
"You don' get t' talk 'bout mon père ever, lil' girl," Remy hissed in annoyance, his veneer of amusement sliding away to reveal something angry and defensive beneath. "He a good sight better den dat piece of shit who taught y' dat slavery was entertainin'."
He might not hit her back, but that didn't mean he had to take her abuse either. She might own him on paper, but it wasn't likely to sink in to Gambit's mind any time soon. "You'd do well t' remember dat y' don' know wha' Gambit will or won' do, henh?"
She couldn't hold back the gasp of surprise and pain when he wrenched her arm. It hurt. Vanessa moved to jerk her arm out of his grip that then thought better of it. He was stronger than her - of that she had no doubt. Instead, she went very still, though her eyes told an entirely different story. She was practically smoldering with rage. If looks could kill, Remy would have been dead where he stood several times over.
She hit a nerve, apparently. Good.
"Don't I?" She challenged him with both her words and her stance. He wouldn't. Not with the guards outside. Not when she held the key to his freedom and servitude. "You wouldn't dare."
"Be real careful 'ere wit' wha' y' say, M'mselle DeMalgre, 'cause on a good day dere ain' much Gambit wouldn' dare t' do," he sneered at her, "an' that list jus' gets shorter an' shorter de longer Gambit's on dis damn island."
He met her furious gaze with one of his own, something burning in his dark eyes before he shoved her away from him, as angry with himself for the display as her. He tried to tell himself that he was better than her, better than reacting like this, probably exactly like she expected, but it didn't do much to ease the anger that was hot inside of him.
"Non, y' don'," Remy spit at her. "Y' don' know wha' Gambit'll do, don' know nothin' you."
She stumbled over one heel as he pushed her away, bumping her hip against the side of the table in the room. Though her ankle turned painfully, it served to keep her on her feet. She rested there for a moment before regaining her balance fully. She resisted the urge to rub her arm where he'd held her.
"I know that you're exactly what I thought you were," Vanessa hissed back at him, fury at his treatment driving her tongue. "Sniveling and pathetic mutant freak. You keep talking about your freedom and your rights - just like all the rest - but destruction is the only thing your kind is good for."
"I watched you in the arena." She continued.. "I know you're not even human."
Pathetic mutant freak.. there was a time when Remy would have taken those words to heart, having heard them enough as a child that he had almost started believing them. Frankly, by now he was almost happy to think he wasn't human, not if being human meant being shamelessly callous, unspeakably cruel, and without regard for any other living being. He'd take being a monster any day compared to the alternative.
"Y' tell yo'self dat if it 'elps y' sleep at night," he said, crossing his arms and glaring at her. "'least Gambit still got 'is soul, ain' able t' say de same fo' you. Y' goin' t' Hell one day, M'mselle, an' yo' pretty face an' all de money in de world ain' go do y' no good den. People like y' deserve t' burn fo' wha' y' do t' us."
He snorted, a nasty little grin sliding back into place like a mask as he said dismissively, "Gambit'll bring marshmallows t' roast on dat day."
She physically started at his venom in his words, narrowing her eyes even further. Vanessa pushed down her rage, bottling it into the core of her thoughts until it turned into something cold. She had known he would be difficult. That he would fight her every step of the way. It was one of the things that had been so appealing in him - the challenge.
"You kill each other for fun," she shot back, voice low and tightly controlled. "Each other and everyone else. You think I haven't heard about the damage mutants do out in the rest of the world?"
She gestured under his nose with a manicured hand. She'd heard things - from her father, his associates, and even the news. Mutants were dangerous. They were animals with little regard for society. That was why they were locked up. That was why they were collared and tethered and neutered.
"Revolve removes things like you from the rest of the world." Vanessa pushed away from the table she'd been leaning against "I don't know what you did that brought you here, Gambit, but I've no doubt that whatever Hell I find myself in you'll be there as well."
He laughed, something bitter and hurt in the rich sound, and shook his head at her. Remy almost wanted to pity her because he didn't understand how anyone could possibly be that narrow-minded, that naive. Almost, but he wasn't that generous.
"Y' don' really tink dat Gambit does dis fo' fun, henh? 'cause it ain' like Gambit was killin' people b'fore ya'll brought 'im 'ere. Ain' never pretended t' be a law 'biding citizen, me, but weren' ever a killer," he spit, snapping his teeth in warning at the finger pointed at his face as she gestured at him. "If Gambit kills now, s' only 'cause he's wha' y' made 'im. An' y' best b'lieve dat no mutant can match de evil men commit, but y' don' see no normals bein' made t' do wha' we do."
He looked toward the door as she pushed away from the table tired of this place and her. "Y' know wha' Gambit did t' end up 'ere? He existed, dat's all. 'pparently ya'll don' need a reason to be monsters, 'least we come by it 'onestly." Talking to her felt about as productive and pleasant as beating his head against the wall, and he was ready to rest.
Nodding at the door, he sighed, "Y' done scolded Gambit, we finished?"
Vanessa was angry and confused. He was a constant contradiction and it was going to drive her mad. Not that she didn't enjoy the arguments on a certain level. She wasn't going to law school (eventually) for the salary. So she reacted much as she always did in this situation, let the subject change.
"You tried to humiliate me today." She would never admit that losing her bet had flustered her to such a degree that it had. Why couldn't he just behave? Winning made things better for both of them. Losing was only destroying her reputation before she could build one here at Revolve and wrecking her fighter as well. It was bad business. She set her jaw, unable to entirely mask the slight pouting cast to her features. Vanessa hated to lose. "Don't do that again."
"We're finished," she replied, suddenly tired. Her wrist hurt and she just wanted to go back to her room. Her gaze flickered over him once more, assessing his injuries with her gaze. "Go see the medic. You'd better be unmarked by the next tournament."
"Don' put dat on Gambit, M'mselle DeMalgre, ain' no one 'umiliated y' 'xcept yo'self. Y' shoulda taken Gambit's word for it when he told y' he was a bad investment." The fact that she was pouting made him want to pat her on the head, but his tone was patronizing enough.
Truly, Gambit wasn't likely to do anything she ordered him to, whether that was win as she demanded or go straight to medical it didn't matter. He was just petty and childish enough himself to enjoy such spitefulness. It wasn't like there was much else he had control of here, but annoying this little slip of a girl who thought she controlled his fate was at least something.
"Y' 'njoy de rest of de tournament," he said with a cocky smirk, sketching a little bow toward her before turning toward the door and banging on it. He doesn't spare her a parting glance when the guards come to lead him away.
Vanessa frowned after him. "Bad investment or not, you are still mine."
It didn't matter where he wanted to go, really. The guards would taken him exactly where she told them too - which was straight to the medical bay. He was her investment, after all. Her father had been quite clear on that. Vanessa would return the investment two-fold. She had too. She would be remiss on her responsibilities if he remained in such sorry shape even when he certainly deserved it.
She really hated that man.