Who: Rogue, Remy What: a one-sided visit and absorbing powers When: after the meal deliveries
While he was a man with more than a few secrets, it wasn't hard to tell that Remy Lebeau fancied himself a Cajun cook of the highest calibre. He spent his formative years on the streets as a thief, but a fair amount of time was spent with his Tante Mattie, who not only was a talented Voodoo priestess but also one hell of a cook. Even now, she was like a mother to him, so now this was a family affront.
Sending back Tante Mattie's recipe for dirty rice and fried okra was akin to a sin of the highest magnitude. He knew who sent it back too. Since it was the first person on his list of social calls, Remy sauntered over to Rogue's room, knocking on the door and leaning one arm on it. Despite wanting to get to the bottom of things - like why she hated everyone so much - he looked like he was casually propped up there without a care in the world.
"Friday, please tell the man at my door ah don't want to see him." She said after peeking out of the peephole. She sighed, then opened the door anyway.
"Go away." Rogue stated not opening the door fully. One hand on the door handle, frowning deeply. She was not in the mood to deal with him.
Friday had gotten out the 'g' part of 'go away' before the door opened and the voice stopped. It wasn't hard to imagine that the operating system had basically retreated into popcorn.gif mode.
"Hello dere to you too, petite," he drawled slowly, his voice oozing charm like honey poured on a cold day. In fact, being near him was like sidling up to a warm comfortable hum that set most people at ease. Maybe not angry giants who can bust through walls or anything - he'd be hard pressed to charm something like the Hulk - but it usually worked wonders with others.
His eyes strayed downward and back up to her face. It was like they were moseying down a path, unrushed, enjoying the sights.
"...'fraid you can't ignore me. I'm here because of you-know-who. Kinda like dat Voldemort fella, 'cept he still has a nose. Seems you don't like food like you don't like people. Why's dat?"
"Ah can and ah will." She moved to shove the door closed, pushing her hair back and grumbling. When she couldn't shut the door she growled in annoyance.
"Ah do not know anything you're talkin' bout." The look over her made her fold her arms over her chest, one foot ready to kick him.
That brazen stare had distracted her from the fact his boot was slipped in to stop the door from closing. He sighed as he stayed in place, not pushing his way inside. He was never going to be one to force himself on ladies, particularly ones that didn't show any interest in him. It was a wound to the twitterpated heart that she had to be as pretty as she was foul tempered.
"You sent back dat food an' we both know it. What're you livin' on, air?" He smiled and it was both cheerful and teasing in equal measure. "I'll keep dis short, and far sweeter than you're bein'. Dis can go three ways. You let me in so we can talk. We go somewhere outside de Tower to talk. Or, if you don't want either option? I can holler to de Tower top about what you're doin' here, an' den you know Voldemort will put you in de failure pile. Me? Well. He'd have to catch me first."
Remy's smile brightened even more, like he thought that sounded like fun. It was reckless enough that he just might do it, just for the fun of it.
Rogue stared at him, ignoring the comment on food, before she pulled the door open. "Lord you ain't got sense in that skull do you?" She stalked back inside, grumbling.
She went back to her couch, grabbing her mug of tea, rolling her eyes. Once he was inside she looked at him.
"You want ta get me caught? Why you hinting at working for him in this building, at all? Ain't like you much but you ain't gotta get me thrown in the RAFT or nearly killed, yeah?"
Remy smiled as he walked in and closed the door behind him. He sidled in, looking around, and not in the way that he was going to thieve anything out of there. At least not right now. He'd wait until he started casting any more suspicion on them.
"Dis Tower isn't as secure as dey make it out to be," he confessed. He sat down in a nearby chair, looking like he had been draped into it and sunk on down. It was like watching someone that was genetically part cat, who made themselves at home no matter where they were. "If it wasn't, we would've been caught when we talked on de network. Seems like Tony Stark's trying to play nice about everyone's privacy. De ceiling lady don' listen unless asked to in de apartments. She shuts off immediately after you don't talk at her for five to ten seconds. Otherwise, every resident here would be cryin' wolf about bein' spied on."
He stretched, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands behind his head as he eyed her.
"I got in de door. Clearly my ploy worked," he gleefully pointed out. "Now for de important questions. Why does such a pretty girl like you hate people so much, and why do you hate good food?"
There was almost nothing in the apartment. Only a sketchbook on the dining table, with an inkwell. Otherwise there was no real personal items around.
Green eyes watched him, a frown on her lips. She really didn't feel like working with him. "don't care. Ain't a fan of talking in the hallway." She snorted at the man.
"I hate people. And ah got my own food, thanks." She lifted her brow at him, rolling her eyes a bit more.
He thought about stealing the pad of paper, or at least peeking to see if there was some sort of hint about what was going on with her. He didn't make a move to do that. It wasn't a great idea to settle in, but he was doing it to keep up appearances. Someone probably should've hinted that she should try to settle in too, but she was as prickly as a porcupine.
"I bet your fridge is as sparse as dis apartment is," he said, his smile a counterbalance to her frowning. "Sassy Southern woman like you, an' all you got is a pad of paper. Half a mind to take you out to dinner to see if you actually eat, or if you'll be glarin' at me like my ex-wife does."
Which was to say there would be some very hard glaring. With mental daggers flying out of her eyes before real daggers came out.
He shrugged a little before adding, "Voldemort wants you to pick up de pace with whatever it is you two got planned. I wasn't given no specifics."
She rolled her eyes, "got more food than you think, swamp rat." She snorted at him, leaning back in her chair, watching him. She didn't want to settle, she'd been on the run before Sinister had grabbed her, she didn't settle.
"Consider the message given." She didn't bother expanding on the inf, she didn't really care to share if Sinister hadn't. It wasn't his business.
Remy was aware that there was probably a reason he was sent in blind, because there was always a reason behind things that Mr. Sinister did. No one adopted a name like that without earning it.
He watched her in return, but it was with a warm regard as though he always found it easy to get along with everyone. Even the prickly people. There was a little tilt to his head, and his smile didn't fade no matter how off putting anyone was trying to be. He looked perfectly at home, even though this wasn't his space and he wasn't budging.
"Dat right. What've you been eatin' that's better den what Remy can cook for you?" he pleasantly sassed back at her, stretching his arms out and flopping them down onto the arms of the chair. One finger raised to point over at the pad of paper and ink. "Guessin' your one of dem artistic types too. You draw a lot, chere?"
"Take out, thanks." She rolled her eyes skyward. She must have really pissed Sinister off if he sent this guy to work with her. That didn't make her terribly happy to think about. She really wanted to do what was right.
"Ah do not." She said as she got up to stuff the pad into a drawer, she didn't like people being around her. This was gonna drive her batty.
"Take out provides variety, but it is missing an essential ingredient. Love. And dat pad's kind've a weird t'ing to have, if you don't draw," Remy said, watching her as though bright eyed and busy tailed the whole time. He even noted what drawer she put it into. "What is it you can do, anyhow? Everyone else had powers ramped up, or fine tuned. Or is it a super special secret, mon ami?"
It seemed impossible, but his smile increased in magnitude.
She politely ignored everything he just said and smiled widely. "Ah would be happy ta show you." The first sign of real life there was in her eyes.
That was oddly dangerous.
That made Remy sit up more. He wasn't lying to himself, this Rogue was pretty even when she was sassy or mean, and he always was a sucker for a pretty face. The danger only added to the interest.
It was, of course, one of his downfalls. Otherwise he'd be in possession of two of the legendary missing Fabergé eggs, instead of only one.
"I'd be happy to see it," he replied, his voice as smooth as butter melting on toast. "Anything I need to do, or do I sit here an' enjoy de view?"
It was only polite to ask.
"Ah am gonna have to touch you." She said sweetly, green eyes sparkling with mischief. She was not gonna love having him in her head but at the same time, maybe it would teach him a damn lesson.
Though she was getting the feeling it would not, in fact, teach him anything.
That sweet voice, those green eyes, and the mention of touching? Remy's heart skipped a beat. Which really wasn't all that uncommon, considering how many people he smooched on. All willing participants, of course.
"Welp. I better prepare myself," he said, standing up and waiting for her to come to him. If she turned into a tentacle monster, there might be some issues, but he was still open to the possibilities. He always was open to whatever came up anyway. "If you're touching me, den I insist on a kiss. After dat, you have my word dat Gambit will leave you be. Deal?"
He looked a little too happy about this game, but he wanted to see where it was heading.
Rogue noted he didn't get specific on where, so she smiled and stopped in front of him. "Sure" she didn't trust his word as far as she could throw him.
She leaned up to press her lips to the side of his face, the cold, power draining sensation almost immediate. Despite the fact she really didn't want him in her head she was reluctant to move before she dropped him.
It would serve him right for being such a pain in her side.
Her lips on the side of his face were like lightning, his eyes flashing red with energy, as the sensation that he was being drawn out of himself instantly kicked in. For a split second, it very minutely occurred to him that this might be why Sinister didn’t fill him in on any details. All he managed to get out was a "nnnnhh" noise before his eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped onto the floor with a kerthunk.
His power was like the low and never ending buzzing of a hive full of bees always on the verge of exploding. But along with that potentially explosive power, there were fleeting fragments of memories. The busy streets of a southern city, sandy beaches, or dark underground tunnels. Moonlit water held back by levees, the open ocean, or trudging through sewage. Laughter and screams. Flashes of faces both happy then terrified. The scents of smoke filled poker rooms and night blooming jasmine, quickly turning into burned flesh and gunmetal of freshly spilled blood.
One hand braced on her head, she let him hit the ground. She struggled to keep it under control, sifting through what was in her head looking for the way to keep it from exploding.
She moved away, pulling the sketch pad out, wincing as she accidentally charged the pen next to it. She tossed the pen before it blew up with a pop, yelping in surprise.
A deep breath was pulled in as she hurried out the door, as if she was late for something, moving quickly to get outside and away from the Tower, pad under her arm, trying not to lose any further control.