rogue (pickedacard) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-06-29 07:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel 616: canon: remy lebeau, marvel 616: canon: rogue |
Who: Gambit and Rogue {616!Canon}
What: Barely intelligible conversation
Where: Starlins
When: Sunday the 11th
Rating: Low (references to some not so great things in the past but nothing violent/explicit in any way)
Status: Log, complete
Rogue really had no idea what she was doing at the moment she hadn’t even had time to change out of what she’d been wearing when everything had started to go right to hell in a handbasket in Australia. The last bit of time for the southern belle had been a right mess, in every sense of the word. Physically? Absolutely a mess, one of the most taxing things she’d ever had to deal with was reliving all of those moments. Having Cody of all people just standing there in front of her like it was nothing. Being caught up in Danger’s web like that was a hell of a thing and then Charles and Remy had shown up to find her and… well, if there ever was a way to end a bit of a ‘vacation’ like Australia was supposed to be, she definitely hadn’t thought she was about to end herself back up up in Antarctica (well, at least mentally), she’d definitely never thought she’d end up back there - not exactly a place one goes casually after all. And then to have Charles manage what he did? The feeling that she’d been in the middle of working through when all of a sudden she’d found herself on Morag? Not to mention the fact that Morag reminded her much too much of asteroids and what an absolute mess anything involving space was, at least if you asked her, well. It was proving to be a hell of a few days, wasn’t it? It dawned on her, as she stood there outside of Starlins that she was still dressed as if nothing had changed - it was an odd thing, to look down at her hands again like that. Look down at them and not feel like they were a danger. The last time she’d had that thought had been… well that was years ago now, wasn’t it? Or at least it felt like it, sometimes Rogue had barely any concept of time - which definitely wasn’t aided by the fact that she didn’t care for birthdays or anything like that. Tended to be a little easier to manage how fast time was running past you when you actually gave a damn about your own age, put things into perspective and all that. That had never been Rogue’s thing. She could tell you the last time she celebrated a birthday was before her Mother had gone, but she’d still been a kid then. Once Mystique and Destiny had shown up and thrown her life for all sorts of loops? Well that had gone and been the end of that. Just hadn’t been time for birthdays after that. They weren’t here though, neither was Erik, neither was most of the X-Men. Just Ororo (who she still hadn’t spoken with and so, as of yet, was entirely unaware that she was an entirely different version of herself), the phoenix, and Emma at first - that had been simple. Ororo she’d trust even if it wasn’t some other version, Jean well… some things only time could tell, and Emma? Well Emma had done enough for Rogue in the past that she’d be reticent to not give the woman trust she deserved and, right now? Emma seemed in the best place to be the best ally she was gonna have around here. Except maybe for the awkward fact that Captain America seemed real keen on treating her as such as well, being totally (and absolutely okay with that fact) unaware of her own future, she just brushed that off as Logan having put in one too many a good words about her. War buddies and all that. Rogue was good at at least a few things, and one of those was pulling herself out of her head real easily. There wasn’t a place for being distracted around here and, certainly no place for it if there were two Remy’s running around. Hell of a damn day this was going to be. And that other one that didn’t look like the Gambit she knew, but damn if he didn’t sound just like him? He’d called her Marian, which was just entirely weird to Rogue. At any rate it made it obvious he was probably one of those other versions that Cosmo had talked about. A telepathic dog, now she’d seen everything, well - just about everything she cared to imagine that was. Standing just to the left of the entrance, it was clear that Starlins was basically just how it was described, if the character of people who were coming and going were any indicator. Rogue had no problem with being right, even if she’d probably never hear the end about this place from Remy. Just his type of place precisely. The thought made her stand there and pick at the edge of one of her glove-covered fingers. The gloves, of course, were totally unnecessary now - but it was habit, a habit she wagered would probably take awhile to break. After all, the last time she’d been able to touch people she’d had no powers, not control over them and as it stood? Control was going to be something else entirely to get used to. If you’d told Remy, even six months ago, that he’d be switching sides in the middle of a fight against the Phoenix, siding with the Avengers to take down a maniac Scott Summers and protect some future version of his lineage, only to then end up in space with another version of himself, talking to a telepathic dog, and then showing up in the floating head of a celestial dealing with broken timelines on top of everything else? He’d have just laughed, told you it was Tuesday, and acted like it was nothing at all. It was exactly what he’d been doing, short of his conversation with Emma, and even that had only come after she’d been the one to cough up information he found interesting. Scott’s dead. He couldn’t even help himself from thinking it as he moved through the crowd of people, his hand reflexively pressing against pockets of passerbys in a way that absolutely told he could have nicked whatever he wanted but simply chose to not. The fact that Scott was gone was a small mercy really. The man had clearly gone insane, fallen flat, gone off his rocker to the point that he’d killed Charles, Emma and...and his hand was reflexively balling into a fist. He’d stood beside the X-Men countless times, through more madness and insanity than had ever really made much sense. He couldn’t say they hadn’t done the same for him, even if the ride had gotten bumpy, but the fact that something had finally broken his loyalty to them? That was a wound that was going to take more time to heal than he cared to admit, but if Scott was dead? At least he could feel like the due had been paid, that the scales were somehow back on balance, and that the stolen life of Charles Xavier hadn’t gone unpunished. He just hoped it wasn’t a quick one. All that though, all the questions he had, the curiosities he felt? They didn’t hold a candle to the big one, the one he was on his way to suss out right now because he wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t see it with his own damn eyes. Rogue was here and she was from so far back in their time she’d actually seemed damn near pleased to see him. Rolling with that shock had been easy, hell he’d loved the woman longer than he’d ever even think most days, but it wasn’t hard for him to put the pieces of it together. Australia, Antarctica, they were really the only cues he’d needed to figure out where she was from and the only thing he’d needed to get his boots in motion toward a place where he could have a drink. She was going to have questions and...if he was going to answer them, and he wasn’t even entirely certain that he was, he damn sure wasn’t going to do them over some piece of technology. He was going to see her in this bar with it’s boring sounding name -- really, Starlins, in space? -- and then he was going to… "Mais je rêve...” He couldn’t have kept the words from spilling out of his mouth if he tried. She looked exactly the same as she should have. A little younger, a little less weathered, but nevertheless the same. His eyes, all red and every kind of not even slightly subtle, swung over her once, twice, three times as he pressed himself out from behind the skew of a taller man. “Well g’wan now and look’t choo…” Remy wiped every thought he might have had in his head, pressing the charming, Diable-may-care smile that entirely should have been expected from him. “All pickin’ at your gloves like a bashful belle…” He strode right up, barely a step between them. “What’s say we fill dem hands with a drink now hm? See if we can swallow the worries of bein’ in a space had with two of me runnin’ about?” A pause a tilt of his head, and a pause. “No -- nix tha’, can’a’ford to be carryin’ you out now. We drink just enough to make in fun hm?” There was no reason for her to be standing there, picking at the gloves looking like she was nervous - Rogue wasn’t nervous, another perk of having no idea what the future held, of course. Granted… that was probably irrational, she probably should have cared what the future held but… ya know, the last time Rogue had tried to live by the seat of fate, follow Destiny (both with an upper and lower case d, as it stood) it didn’t go so well for her. It meant a lot of bad decisions, a lot of things she regretted - granted killing Vargas had been damn well a-okay in her book but she remembered that feeling, the one where she finally realized that trying to force what Destiny had written in her diaries, the precognitions, trying to force them was more dangerous than anything else. The thought alone had been enough for her to be more than okay with not prying too much with Emma. She’d had a moment of temptation, she’d had a moment there where she felt like she wanted answered, a moment where she had a million questions running through her head about how in the hell it was Jean got herself killed again when she was pretty damn sure Jean was already dead (nothing good came from Rogue’s thoughts about the why there), some curiosities about whether or not she kept control of her powers, and of course then there was the whole Steve warning her about Wanda thing and he’d sounded far too familiar with her, far too comfortable warning her with that name and it meant she had a heck of a lot of questions. But that didn’t change her mind. Rogue wasn’t tempting fate, not again. So it wasn’t fate that had her sat there, picking at the finger of her glove - it was discomfort. It was the uneasy feeling that she could just, slip them right off and she’d be fine and she wouldn’t have to worry about someone brushing up against her in the bar… Rogue didn’t exactly have the best track record with the results of absorbing other species (accidental or not) and what the other physiology did to her. The thought of Danvers and her damn Kree enhancements was enough to set her on edge, least of all if she managed to rub up against an actual Kree here (something she figured was entirely too possible for her comfort level)? No thank you. She had to catch herself there, it wouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t even matter. She had control now. Not that she’d actually had a chance to really test that out, she’d been about to walk away from Charles and go thank Remy for helping him find her and… well then she’d been here. And now Remy was here and some other Remy was here and one of them seemed to be from her timeline just, a while ahead of her and there was the nervousness because… well it wasn’t like they had the best track record and it wasn’t like they’d been on totally great footing because she’d gone and screwed off to Australia, but he had come after her with Charles and apparently he knew about all that and so, well, Rogue wasn’t really sure how this was gonna go. Rogue knew, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, in the center of her chest, in the back of her mind, how she wanted it to go but, damn it, for one reason or another they’d always been a damn problem. Whether it was his bad history with that psychotic woman, or the whole… well no sense in even thinking about Erik really, then both of them just being so stupid sometimes, and then Mystique trying to break them up, she could think of way too many things that had already happened, let alone how many more could happen in just a few short years between where she was from and whenever the hell he might be from… they weren’t exactly known for being exactly rational about or around each other... She stopped picking at the glove immediately when he called her on it - eyes darting up. It was him alright, not that she’d been expecting any different… that was Remy Lebeau alright. In the flesh, accent and all. Stupid amount of scruff on his face that she damn well knew he kept just the way he liked it to project just the right amount of lack of give a damn about the way he held himself. “Bashful?” She asked, her own all too familiar accent tinged on every ounce of the word as she questioned him. “Ah ain’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” She said, a little smirk on her face as she rolled her eyes and shoved her still gloved hands into the pockets of her all-too-familiar green jacket. “C’mon then, ah might even buy ya tha first one.” She said nodding towards the door, taking a step past him towards the door. In an insane city, built inside a floating head in space, some people surely might have found it easy to keep a confident footing. Broken times, everything out of sorts, telepathic dogs, even a woman with whom he shared more history than she remembered, it would take a lot more than that to phase him. Maybe it was his personality, maybe it was the life he’d lived, the time he’d shared with the X-Men, the fact that he’d already time traveled, that he’d faced himself in an alternate timeline before, or maybe it was even just his personality. Whatever the case, Remy Lebeau on the other hand, seemed to be taking it with the same ease most people did as breathing. “‘Course not Cher.” He flashed her a grin, falling into step behind her and eventually moving along beside her once they’d pushed through the door. A look around at the room and, well. Well. It was jam packed full of obvious miscreants. It carried the reek of alcohol that was unmistakable even outside of his reality. There was the hustle and bustle he knew well, suspicious types propped up against walls, and people gathered around a table making enough noise that he innately knew there was some kind of money on the line with whatever they were doing. Remy didn’t even miss a beat as he flipped a pack of smokes from his pocket, maybe he should have been rationing them better, but that was neither here nor there. You couldn’t not do so in a place like this one. It was chaotic and busy, it was dangerous and full of all kinds of unscrupulous promise. It even had dancing girls… Rogue wasn’t at all wrong when she’d said he liked the place, that it was just his kind of place. Really, Remy’s only complaint was that he didn’t have a hand in it -- well, that and it was just a little bit on the small side. It probably could have used some more variety in it’s games and, really, the girls should have been a bit more prominently featured, wandering about the room, stages intermingled between the games...his mind was already ticking it over, adapting to his environment. He might have been told a lot of impossible things in the last few days, but that was an old hat to him by now. Now, here, on Knowhere, all he had to do was figure hot he was going to go forward… And maybe if he’d be just lucky enough to do so with the woman remaining a constant by his side. “So you buyin’ the first one, no? Spoilin’ Remy and he jus’ put his feet down. S’not ‘is birthday is it?” He knew it wasn’t but, as he slid into a seat he specifically picked across from an empty one where she could join him. “You jus’ tryin’ to get the head all turned about hm, maybe get yourself a piece o’ the ol’ Cajun when he’s a bit too out hisself to say no, that it?” Because, when presented with the impossible and trying to go forward, why not turn up the charm and just try and get yourself situated into a space that felt normal. Once they were inside it became all too apparent just how right Rogue was about this being exactly the sort of place Remy would like, no question about it really. Between the girls, the gambling, the… well she could leave it at she was fairly sure she’d be hardpressed to find a single well meaning person in this room. Hell, it wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty of skeletons herself, so even she wasn’t really off the hook here. She was beginning to really take the whole… Knowhere was a hive for the lost, a place for the condemned, for those who couldn’t or wouldn’t go home thing to heart. From what she’d seen and heard of the other arrivals? Seemed just about everyone was used to a firefight too, and even if you had ‘good’ reasons to be in one? It still put you in a category other than a normal person, at least in Rogue’s mind. She wasn’t the sort to be disillusioned about things like that, she wasn’t about to go around and act like the past hadn’t happened because it had and the past mattered. It did. Too many people acted like you could just erase that stuff, if you asked her, and she wasn’t going to be one of them. She may not have been the sort to go blabbing or reminiscing and there were only a few things she’d ever let herself retain active guilt about (tossing a certain Cajun out of an airplane, basically, to be left to freeze to death on mostly accident might have been included as one of the few), but she sure as hell wasn’t going to act like they just didn’t happen. That the good shaped her worldview just as much as the bad. Rogue wasn’t about to complain about being right though, if anything it only amused her that she was. Far as she saw it, Remy was probably going to make too easy of an adjustment to Knowhere - whereas her? Well, she’d go with it, but she was still thinking she might have preferred a vacation be successful for once, but at any rather - this probably counted as a vacation too. Unless more trouble, like the firefight they’d both just missed out on, decided to rear its head again. And somehow, just somehow with all these S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and Avengers and mutants and other people she didn’t recognize but talked about the battle way too casually around? There was no doubt in her mind, as she slipped into the chair across from him, that this wasn’t going to be a vacation. Far from it, as she figured it. Didn’t take much more than a little bit of lurking some recent network posts and taking herself on a little tour and a look around of damage they were still recouping from for her to figure that much out. Huffing, she rolled her eyes again, “It ain’t your birthday an’ I ain’t ever need liquor to get ya a bit turned around.” It wasn’t exactly what Rogue wanted to say but, admittedly, she was soft balling this a little bit. There was plenty more, plenty of other things, she wanted to say, a more pointed little joke in response to his own but -- and this went without saying even if you considered the fact that she’d already decided she decidedly didn’t want to know -- despite anything she might have wanted, things she wanted to say because of a by product of the exact moment she’d been pulled from. She’d never actually been good at fixing things with Remy whenever they got turned around, missing time lived between the two of them and a space head - definitely not things that helped her there. Choking all that back without so much as a flinch her little smile-smirk widened, “Can’t treat ya to a drink if ya don’t tell me what ya want tho’.” She said, leaning forward against the table as she arched an eyebrow at him. “True ‘nuff dat be.” He didn’t even miss a beat. He’d never been shy about the way she could work him over, even if he delivered with as much sarcasm as the powdered sugar on a beignet. “Think maybe you playin’ dis’ ‘ere new place we be as an ace in da’ ‘ole tho’.” He smirked at her. “Startin’ to think maybe you picked a few things over the years.” Which, though it didn’t show on his face even a little bit, was a statement he immediately wished he hadn’t made. “We go with the closest thing they have a classic, oui? ‘Urricane.” Because what the hell else did you order when you were a swamp rat from Naw’lins hanging out with the time displaced woman who’d had your heart longer than you were probably ever going to admit? To Remy, it was an easy play, just like the way he mirrored that, all-too-easy smirk, leaning back while she learned forward. It was as much a bit of a representation of their dynamic as anything and that symbolism wasn’t lost on him either. So many times in their life, one would come forward while other would roll back. It was a constant, even amidst the chaos and the storm that was the life of a modern mutant. Each time though, like when she’d come back from getting the drink, or when he’d brought Charles to her in Australia, they there were. Much as they fought, much as sometimes they’d wound one another, that was never the intent of it and that was what mattered. In fact, if Gambit had to pick anything, out of all the things he’d seen in his time here, that would make him able to keep his feet firmly planted no matter how crazy it got? If he had to pick the one place to stick his focus so that he could find his center? It’d be the same thing it’d always been really. It didn’t matter if it was some trouble with the guild, or even if it was that dark seed buried in him threatening to blossom again, Rogue had always been the touchstone. Even when she’d thrown him out onto the ice, left him to freeze, starve, and die in whatever order they came, it’d been true. It was why, by the time she came back, he had himself leaned back into the seat, feet propped up on the table, crossed at the ankles, with the burning end of his cigarette glowing with all the nonchalance he had to muster. It was why he was shuffling the deck of cards in his off hand, using the pull of air and the added illumination to catch sight of which were showing. It was why, when she sat back down again, he’d prop himself forward and snub the butt on the flat of his boot, only to drop one elbow onto the table to reach for whatever she’d brought him. “Where I come from, is bad luck to not raise glass for somethin’ when a pretty girl done buy you a drink.” It wasn’t, but it was hardly out of character for Remy to completely make something (even when he knew she knew better) to simply fit a situation. “So to what we toastin’ hm?” The little once over the Remy got as he spoke was something, well, could something count as habit if it’d been awhile? Sure it still could, right? If not habit, it was absolutely second nature. Rogue, despite any difficulties with being close to people over the years, could never have been described as a shy woman. Actually, that had sort of only made her particular brand of powers worse for her. Hard to be that fiesty, that much of a spark when you couldn’t even give someone a playful jab without thinking you might go and hurt them on accident. She’d be a liar if she said that wasn’t one of the biggest reasons she’d turned down Sage, but there wasn’t really much of a point in thinking about any of that - not now, she figured, at least not now that she had them under control. At least, she thought they were under control? Rogue hadn’t actually touched anyone yet since Charles had just finished when she’d ended up here and all that. So she was sort of going off of the assumption he was right… Which was why she still had the gloves on, ultimately. If she’d been able to just stand up and thank Charles and walk out to Remy and… then she would have known but, none of that got to happen. Actually, she still felt… weird. There was a distinct lack of presence in her head that made her trust that it had worked, then there was the tingle she felt from nose to toes - but she hadn’t had even a moment to just sit. To just… think and place herself in reality with the way everything just felt so different, no chance to meditate. No chance to catch her breathe. That’s what she’d needed, really, once Charles was out of her head. She’d needed to go sit for a few hours - instead? Well, she’d gotten to sit for a bit on Morag but since she hadn’t had the damnedest idea of where she was so that wasn’t much of a moment to think. Now, frankly, wasn’t the time for it either. “Few things, ‘least jus’ a few.” She retorted as she slid out of her chair, the statement less than shy on any sort of implications that, no doubt, were there whether she purposefully meant them or not. Leaning towards meant, as to be expected of course. Making her way through the crowd was, interesting. It wasn’t like she’d never been in crowds before but everything still feeling a bit on edge definitely made the closeness that was the swarm of miscreants in Starlins… a different level of uncomfortable than she’d been expecting. Maybe it was because the swarm of people, once she was alone among them, made her a little more conscious of the tingling. True to her nature, Rogue didn’t dally on that thought either - she grabbed herself a drink, something bright blue that just… well it looked like it was either going to be the best or the absolute worst thing she ever drank and she even absolutely politely of course still got Remy his, even though she’d been entirely tempted for a moment to come back with just a drink for herself and play it off, that wasn’t really the game she wanted to play at the moment. She didn’t really want to play any games at the moment, but that (ironically or not) didn’t tend to be in the cards for them at any given point in time. Even if it was entirely on accident. “Ya know.” She said as she put his drink down and took a sip of her own, settling herself back into her seat - the drink was strong, something she wouldn’t complain about basically ever, and it was definitely more tastey than she’d expected from a divey space bar. “Sittin’ like that is probably what gets ya kicked out of so many places.” Categorically untrue, but there was the little flirt anyway - because, really? She couldn’t not. “Can always toast to ya gettin’ far too lucky, endin’ up in a place that’ll suit ya so much, Rem.” Another thing that definitely wasn’t her first thought, but she was attempting to play nice here. For more reasons than just her uncertainty about both literally and figuratively taking her gloves off. He’d have been outright lying if he said some part of him hadn’t missed this stage of things. Did he miss the complications? No. Did he miss the constant fighting, the tension, the hot-and-cold back and forth they tended to share? No he did not. What he did miss was the ease of the banter, how they could just snap back to a simplistic sort of exchange no matter the hardships they’d endured -- or in some cases subjected each other too. It was a time when things were, all things considered, easier. Rogue was finally about to turn the page and get her life on track for awhile, getting back the things she’d missed out on for so long. Remy was...well it didn’t matter what he was doing back then. He’d done it. The only thing that mattered here to him was that he didn’t show his hand, that he didn’t take that away from her. “You think?” He quipped about his feet on the table. “An here Remy jus’ thought it was was ‘is award winn’ personality.” Of course what ‘awards’ it might have actually won him? There was a litany of accolades to be certain, titles, names, even some legends in some cases, but awards? That notion was almost laughable even to him. Or at least that would be the ruse that drove the smile forward and across the table to her. It looked devilish and aloof enough at least, born of his own cocky bravado more than any of the honest sentiment that was tucked into the nuance of it. It was best to just let the dimples show, to let her think everything was right as she thought it ought to be. Certainly it wasn’t the most comfortable for Remy, but he’d never put himself before any of that really and he couldn’t see one damned reason to go on starting now. “You only sayin’ so ‘cause you ‘ere.” Now that flirt was shameless. It was something that, as he strained his memory backwards, she should have expected as all kinds of familiar. “‘Course that don’ make you wron’. Is a bit of the ol’ chance no? Or maybe the Universe jus’ tryin’ to send a message after all dem years of it gettin’ lost in da’ mail.” He left barely a breath between his little ramble and the lifting of his glass from the table “E’ther way, we drink to it good and plenty.” And he tipped the glass her way before pulling it to his own lips and taking an exploratory sip. Hell it wasn’t even half bad either, something that clearly ticked his eyebrows surprise. It was just one of many today, a taste of good fortune that had blown his way after the mess life had been prior to… “So, was’ the firs’ order of business for a belle in a space head, hm?” A genuine laugh escaped Rogue’s lips when Remy dared to even insinuate or joke that anything about Remy ever had to do with his winning personality. She just couldn’t help it - as confusing as things may have been, as much as there were little things tugging at the back of her mind (most notably, self-control, in a moment where she very much didn’t want to have any - for reasons she figured most people would understand but, still, there was so much built up there that she was holding it back by a thread and she was decidedly intent on not letting that thread snap and unravel itself, not yet). Rogue couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned her arms against the table - her long curly hair, permanently marked by two noticeably brighter streaks as always, fell forward and covered her face just slightly. “Come on now.” She said between laughs that she just couldn’t seem to choke back. Maybe it was because she just needed to laugh, maybe it was just because all of this was so damn crazy and yet so damn familiar. Space was fine, but a celestials head? Big change even for her. Remy was, but a Remy she had no idea what had changed about in the few years spanned between where she’d been plucked from and he had? That was going to be rough, it was going to be tempting on so many different levels (not just limited to the fact that all she wanted to do was reach out and… then all the questions she kept telling herself she wasn’t going to ask). Either way, Rogue just couldn’t help but to continue to laugh, “Rem, ah ain’t think your personality ever won ya a damn thing an’ come on now, it ain’t even a funny joke.” The laugh rolled off as her eyes drifted down to the table, the sound fading from her lips slowly as she got a little bit of control over herself back before her eyes flicked back up to him - a smile planted on her features that never could have been there if she knew even a third of what the future held for her. A third of just what the future held for her and Remy. Let alone the rest. “Awards.” She mumbled quietly the amusement still laced throughout her tone as she took a sip of her drink - totally ignoring any proper social conventions she may have had about waiting for him to decide on a toast. She wouldn’t have admitted it, but she needed it right now. Maybe drinking was a shitty idea if she didn’t know yet, didn’t totally know (at least beyond her own feeling and instinct) if Charles ‘fix’ had worked. She was going to need a guinea pig, but that was going to have to wait and… He pulled her right out of that thought, a slender brown eyebrow arched in his direction, “If ah didn’t know better, ah might think ya were flirtin’ with me, Remy LeBeau.” The whole thing was said entirely offhandedly, casually, and she sort of regretted it immediately. There was nothing in their history that should have made her assume they were on good terms however many actual years in the future he was from. Nothing in their history that should have made her assume this was anything other than a fact finding mission for both of them. That comment? That comment was a bit too much of a tell about where exactly Rogue herself was at. Where exactly her feelings were at but if he was from ahead of her and he knew how things were after she got control then… Well she brushed it off as okay in the end, because he damn well shouldn’t have been surprised then. “To lost mail then.” She said with a little smirk, taking a proper sip from her glass that time, more of a gulp really compared to the little tentative ones she’d taken so far. It was the damn tingle in her skin. It was just, it was distracting - especially in a place this crowded. “First? Ah already handled myself but… well gotta get ya’self a place to stay an’ a job, ya know you’re gonna have to get a real one - if ya even think you could manage to figure out what that is.” Rogue had already managed as much for herself. Security was an easy choice, similar enough to any damn thing the X-Men had done over the years. An apartment had been easy too, she’d had everything in her bag ready and raring to go at any time in Australia so she had a decent amount of money on her, not enough for anything fancy. Definitely enough to get her started though. Probably the only perk of the point fate had decided she deserved to be plucked from. The sound of laugh? That was music to his ears. So much of their lives didn’t leave room for laughing, didn’t leave room for smiles, no matter how often he tried to carve a niche out for just that. Whatever today was, whatever Knowhere might have represented, if it was going to leave Rogue room for laughing, well Remy LeBeau would be good and truly damned (twice if not thrice over) if he was going to offer up an argument to whatever it meant. He wouldn’t say it didn’t matter that they were separated by literal years, if not close to a decade (it was hard to say for sure), but to say he didn’t care? He’d say the same as he’d always said, the same as he knew she wasn’t ready to hear, with his smile as he tilted his drink in her direction to seal the cheers. “To lost mail.” The drink was easy, something to wash his palette out for a second while he considered what she’d said. Certainly he could have made comment to the fact that he was absolutely flirting with her, but the fact that was even phrased as a question? He decided it best to backburner that whole thought. She was from too far back, before he’d once-and-for-all called her out on the little game that they played. If she’d come in from any other moment or memory, even one where she’d been screaming at him, even one where she’d thrown him out of the plane, where she sworn she hated him, and he might have brought it up again. Now, with her life fully hers, with a smile and a laugh? He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t take away from that, no matter how selfish he liked to appear on the outside, and so he’d just...let it go. “Ol’ Gambit’s ‘ad lotta jobs over da’ years.” Which said absolutely nothing about what kind of work he might try and find for himself. It was a simple rebuff against her little jab, a playful step in the dance. “Pretty sure da’ mutt say d’ere be a barracks…” His voice tilted slightly toward a more roguish inclination. It would be a good way to get a lay of the land, to watch the maximum number of people. “So dat’s dat out-da-way.” He shrugged absently, taking another sip of his drink as free hand fished the smokes back out of his pocket to take up another while he thought for a moment. Did he mention that wasn’t at all what he meant? Did he take it to a more personal term? Did he make a joke? It was a tightrope balance and Remy LeBeau had never been so glad for his practiced balance. “So ‘den tha’ leave wha’? Time for catch up non? Maybe some time to find some trouble?” Because that was what she should have expected. “Shame d’ere be no beach, less there be a suggestion of maybe we find a spot to go lay in da’ sun.” He took another sip of his drink, another drag from his cigarette. “Or maybe a bunk.” Because she should have expected that too, much as it drew a pang in his chest to say it like a joke. “Or maybe we jus’ sit ‘ere and share a nice drink in a room full of rowdy aliens?” The laugh had felt so nice but, once it settled and once it clicked her her brain just how much of the conversation she was skipping over, it made her thoughts trail again - back to the reality that she had no idea where they stood right now. For her? For her she knew precisely where, she knew precisely what she’d wanted to do once she had control and she knew precisely where she wanted him to be. She knew that all she’d wanted was… well no one could or would have made a more perfect guinea pig. No one. Not a single person in the world represented everything Rogue wanted out of control more than Remy did. Not a single person. Not Erik. Not guilt over Cody. Not even just wanting to be more useful to the team. Not even just for herself. It was, and despite her own actions in the past, it was always gonna be Remy, but whether or not she would ever be really, truly willing to admit that? That, that was a different story entirely. It wasn’t lost on Rogue that everything might have been more complicated now than it ever had been before. And for them? That was a feat in and of itself. This was Remy though, as hard as all that was to swallow, as hard as it was to have it scratching at the back of her mind? It was too damn easy to smile just about the fact that he was here. It was stupid, frankly and entirely dumb and… Rogue knew how she felt which made it even more stupid because she’d never known how to rectify knowing or feeling with the rest of it. It was, really, her greatest inability. The worst part? She damn well knew where it came from too. Which… well it definitely said more about her than any other parties involved at any point in time. “Ah ain’t believe that for a minute.” She said with a role of her eyes, another sip of her drink. At this point she might have been purposefully nursing her drink a little quicker than she’d have liked. Just a little quicker. The banter managed to make her so over the moon happy, but it also concerned her. It didn’t answer anything. There were two options sitting here on the table: either things were fine between them or fine enough between them or… or Remy was playing the game, or he was… basically just acting how he thought he should be and well, she’d be damned it she should she could actually parse out which was true. Rogue was good, Remy was better - at least at that, and it didn’t hurt that he had how ever much time on her so he’d had more practice and he knew exactly how to play this. She had to hand it to him, she really couldn’t tell which it was right now and it took all of her energy she could muster up that wasn’t being used to just focus on the fact that regardless of anything else she was so happy to see him… it was taking all of whatever else energy there was to not start picking at her gloves. Rogue managed a smirk regardless of anything else, a real solid smirk right in Remy’s direction. “Well, ya went an’ answered that question.” She didn’t specify which question and it was actually almost hard for her to say. He’d damn well knew which one she meant though, unless he was a Skrull and then she’d be running out of there faster than a damn coonhound on the chase. “You did hear me say real job, right Rem’?” Real subtle backtracking of the direction of the conversation, or well, maybe subtle for anyone else. She had no doubt he might pick up on it - he just knew her too well, a few extra years or not - but she also knew her self-control when it came to the man sitting across from her definitely had limits. Limits she didn’t want to push, at least not tonight. “Clearly you got a flare for da’ understimatin’.” He gave her a coy little smirk, pulling another seemingly innocuous amount of drink from his glass. The subtler show was that his tongue was pressed against the flat of his teeth, keeping too much liquid from spilling into his mouth. It was better to play it safe than, without actually knowing what he might be drinking, risking a slip in the facade because he’d gotten too sauced to be able to hold his thoughts in the right order. “Or maybe you just made quick with da’ forgettin’ Gambit and ‘ow he be plenty good at landin’ on ‘is feet?” He flashed a mock pout at the end, setting his drink down to exchange with a quick flare from the end of his smoke and an exaggerated pull of it into his lungs. “M’crushed Cher --” Empty hand pressed flat against his chest. “Truly.” Of course it was all the game, the act and ruse he knew she’d expect and he had even intentions of playing. There was part of him that did consider dropping it, of letting it go and filling her in on things, but considering what those things were? He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. To know Xavier had just set her down this path, that the man had just helped her put her life in order? Hell, Remy had never been as close to or as fond of Chuck as the others, but even he’d taken the blow pretty hard. It had shown just how far Cyclops had fallen, just how mad things had gotten with the Phoenix. It’d been enough for him to change sides, to abandon his own sense of loyalty and not for his own well being either. Telling Rogue that Xavier was gone, that someone they’d followed into hell had been at the man on the other end of it? That wasn’t gonna do her no good. It’s just cut open a wound and wash out any joy she might have had at all. She’d probably be mad at him later for not telling her now, he didn’t even think that’d be wrong of her, but the facts were the facts. He loved that woman too damn much to do that to her, not when he couldn’t see a play where it was actually a benefit for her to know. “Wha’cha tryin’na say Rogue, dat Gambit’s means of makin’ money ain’t real? ‘Cause money don’ much care where it comes from and…” He gave a gesture around the room with his eyes, taking another drag from his cigarette before he collected the glass for another, more genuine drink. “Judgin’ from da’ look o’ dis room? It ain’ gonna be none too ‘ard to find money lookin’ to make its way into pockets other den where it started.” She didn’t want to be staring at him the way she was, Rogue knew that this was a bad idea as soon as she’d sat down - but she’d also known that it needed to happen. She needed to figure things out, she needed to know if he was going to be walking around brooding contempt on every inch of his being that made it clear she would just have to ignore every instinct she had to just… reach out and touch him. Every instinct she had to flirt wildly, be the entirely unsubtly coy southern belle with a wild side she knew he knew her to be. If she had any hint, even an ounce of something being… too off? Too much like it was clear he was just… she didn’t know. But she knew she wasn’t willing to just throw him under the bus because of the way she… Rogue picked up her drink and took another not so subtle sip. She wasn’t sure if she was drinking to dull her thoughts or drinking to get the hell out of there - right now? It seemed to be the later. She was suddenly aware she might not have been ready for casual conversation and Remy LeBeau. As much as the banter felt like home, as much as the banter grounded her in a way nothing else, nothing else ever had - there was a lot at play here. There were timelines and past mistakes and a very specific feeling in her chest that coursed throughout her body that she knew needed handling first and… damn it. Would it kill the universe to make something just simple for them for once? Of course not though, that was a silly idea, the silliest. If she had been trying so hard to keep that playful smirk on her lips she may have actually laughed at herself for even thinking about the little plea for a little bit of simplicity. They’d get bored with simplicity and she damn well knew it. “Ah ain’t capable of underestimantin’ ya, sugah.” She let the words roll off her tongue, not a single change in the way she held herself or her face - regardless of the wash of thoughts running through her mind. She took another drink, the slight level of discomfort wasn’t even really something she was trying to hide. It wasn’t like it would shock him or anything - particularly since having control of her powers alone was enough to put her on edge at the moment, still so fresh out of that, still so unused to the way it felt. She didn’t even need any additional reasons for the way she knew that tingle in her skin was more than her powers. Waving a hand dismissively, “Why Ah’d never sink that low.” The corners of her mouths pulled tight into a precocious little smirk, “Ah jus’ don’t wanna see the dog go an’ lock ya up for ya pretty much doin’ what ya know ya wanna do.” “Maybe you should take a picture Cher.” Remy knew, if he didn’t comment on the way she was staring, if he didn’t treat it as an ego stroke, even when he certainly didn’t feel like it was one, that would just exacerbate the situation, and probably on both ends. It was better to treat it like it was just another step in that age old game, the one they were still playing where she was from because he hadn’t called her out on it. It was better for her not to get the idea that somethin’ was off, that he was anything more than the egotistical, loner, rogue he had always played at being. “Or you could jus’ say you wan’ Gambit to stick around, if it good for the eyes.” The latter had been a two sided play. The offer to stay, that was a hundred percent genuine. He hated that he had to veil it, that he had to tuck it in and amongst a series of well covered statements that were far removed from his actual sentiment. He hated that he was good at it even, that it was a natural reflex as ingrained in him as they way he’d spin objects through his fingers when he was bored. There was a part, admittedly a small one, that wanted her to see through it, that knew if anyone could it probably would have been her, but all that was swallowed down in a wash of smoke chased by another drink from his glass. Later. He promised himself. There would be a time and a place, where he would, but sure as he loved gumbo it wasn’t day one. It wasn’t here, or now, not with everything he remembered her going through. You tell her again one day, and jus’ think of it as good practice. Which made him smile. It would probably look a bit out of place but even Remy LeBeau had to admit there was a comic irony in that. A man whose whole life was a practiced game, whose every day was one ruse after another, and now he was using those same games as a means to stall for when he’d tell the truth down the road. “Even you gettin’ a good look inside my head don’t mean Gambit can’t find a way to put da’ pieces together in a way that might surprise you.” He offered a waggle of his brow at the sentiment, tucking the smoke into the corner of his mouth to let it hang idly. “And you be thinkin’ da’ pooch ‘as a jail that can ‘old me? Rogue, if’n ah didn’ know no better, there’d be a thought or two suggestin’ maybe you be lookin’ to hurt some feelin’s.” He smirked at her, plucking the cigarette from his lips and dropping it to the floor before he crushed it under his boot. “A’sides which, dat implies ol’ Remy’s gonna be so rusty as to get ‘imself pinched.” Of course he’d noticed she was staring, that’s why she’d damn well knew she hadn’t been - wished she hadn’t been even. It wasn’t a play she wanted to make but she couldn’t damn well help it and now he’d gone and called her out on it and she’d expected and known no less would have happened, hell or high water he’d never let her get away with something like that and she doubted that even on their worst days, during their biggest fights he’d not take such an open invitation to make fun of her for something she damn well knew she was doing - only, he had no idea that she knew she shouldn’t be doing it. Only, he had no idea that the fact that she should hold herself back was running through her mind, that it was her primary objective right now. Control, apparently, in this reality for Rogue? It wasn’t just limited to her powers because if there was something that had always proven difficult for her beyond that ever present fear of hurting someone when she didn’t want to? It was how very much she was aware that her control -- whether it was anger, passion, or something else -- when it came to the man sitting across from her? Damn near non-existent on most days. “Ah ain’t think I got a say in that.” And just as much as he was playing a game, she was too. No way in hell was Rogue going to let him in on how acutely aware she was of the weirdness - she might not have been, if she didn’t have such an acute amount of healthy fear mixed with a very, very healthy knowledge that you don’t mess with the future. And Remy? Right now? He was the future, though the way that sentence parsed itself out in her head was… uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable - enough to cause her to take another healthy sized sip of the drink she was finishing way too fast. She did want him to stay, desperately so. But that was all so wrapped up in so much else at this point and Rogue just, she’d done the dance with destiny both literally and figuratively and she… was wasn’t risking throwing Remy on that pyre. Not right now. Not when everything could maybe just… Rogue didn’t goddamn know what she was even thinking at this point, where her brain was even trying to go. She needed time alone but she also, she also didn’t want to leave but maybe she… maybe it would be better if she just fucked off for a bit and left this hello at just a little hello and an awkward unknowing between the two of them that… well, they were both playing the game - just for entirely different reasons. And to be fair, even if Rogue knew he was playing a game? She never would have been able to predict why. She laughed softly again, nothing like the way she had before, but it was a laugh nonetheless. “Ah ain’t think ya’d stay long locked up, don’t mean the dog wouldn’t do it anyway. Ya know he’s telepathic, right?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, arching an eyebrow as she kept her hand on her drink - a finger just sort of idly stroking against its condensation to distract herself. “Means he can see right in like ah can, less you plan on never talkin’ to him that is.” The implication there was definitely a little more personal than she’d meant. She hadn’t really meant to imply something about how well she knew him because she sure as hell was side stepping right past Antarctica because she’d already had to relive that over again and she’d be okay with never even thinking about it again, if it was up to her. “Sho’ nuff’ dat be true, but facts is facts. Gambit be good for any eyes, he jus’ better for yours.” He wondered as he said it, if it was even reasonable to think he could keep this up. Clearly, as much as Remy never played by them, the rules had gone out the window here. It was clear enough to see that the minute he’d climbed aboard a ship with another version of himself. Doubling down with that, Rogue was here, she was from behind him and letting all that ride on top of the fact that he still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here after the battle with the Phoenix and all that had come with that...and Remy just… As much as it looked like he was on unsteady footing, he was probably the most off balance he’d been in a long time. He’d keep up the ruse though, because that was what Remy LeBeau did when he didn’t feel solid on his feet. He’d act like nothing was wrong, build a plan in motion, adapt it while he worked it. It was a process he’d damn near perfected in his years as a thief when, plan as he might, sometimes things just went sideways. It had served him well during his time with the X-Men too and, at least on a couple of occasions, with the woman who sat across from him more specifically. Even if it was more than just a small bit of luck he’d managed not to freeze to death when she’d dropped him on the middle of the giant ice cube for instance, Remy was still going to chalk up surviving that one to simply not losing his cool (it was a terrible joke that made him chuckle to himself still when he thought it). It was that same cool he was still hanging onto now as he took another healthy swallow from his glass, leaving it damn near empty. “You know dis ain’t Remy’s first time ‘roun’ a mind-reader.” He gave a pointed wag of his eyebrow at her, not at all subtly suggesting that she belonged on that list as far as he was concerned. She’d always had a unique insight when it came to him, more than he would have liked sometimes, and that had nothing to do with her powers. “Dun change da’ fact dat, less he wants to be told he a good boy, Gambit ain’t got much to say to ‘im.” There was a was a not-so-subtle line there too. Remy didn’t entirely object to leadership, and he’d absolutely admit to owing the dog at least half of one for not leaving him on the planet, but something told him he was probably way better off fending for himself in a place like what he’d seen of Knowhere -- especially if Starlins was any indication. “Less you think maybe he likes being scratched?” And there was another not-so-subtle little play at a past he knew they shared too. Rogue’s smile was just slightly delayed, not enough that anyone really should have picked up on it but, delayed enough that she knew it wasn’t immediate as her brain ran through the fact that she wanted to smile at his comment, but part of it was hesitant, knew that she maybe shouldn’t. Her mind was just too all over the place to be here, she needed to see him, but she had now and - she gulped down the last quarter of her drink in one go with a soft chuckle. “Ah think ya might be biased there, Rem’.” She responded as if it was nothing, even if it stabbed at her gut in a way she resented. Things should have been fine now. She had control, he’d even been a driving force in coming to find her but her they were. Caught up in something else, again. She knew, she knew if she stayed too long it would be way too easy for Remy to pick up on the fact that her head just wasn’t in the game right now. As hard as it was for Rogue to admit even to herself, because she knew just how important the game would be right now, tonight she just wasn’t ready for it and she knew herself damn well enough to know what that meant. Sure, there might not have been any way in the immediate vicinity for her to just sabotage things, outside of being a bitch for lord knows no God damn good reason - that didn’t mean she didn’t, at some level, know when it was better to just pack it in. Even if it was a card she rarely played, because, well - she didn’t know. She honest to God didn’t know why it was so hard for her to just… “Oh ah know, but this ain’t no normal mind reader ya know.” She brushed off the comment, full and well getting his implication - even pulling a smirk onto her lips to show that she did so, despite the way she just sort of shrugged it off. “But ya still gonna have to chat with ‘em, Gambit.” Her eyes flicked up to his as she slid out of her chair, taking a step around the table to stand next to him, “Speakin’ of the dog an’ jobs an’ all that…” She reached out and patted his knee - not much thinking about it when she did it, if she had she probably would have held herself back, “One of us has gotta get up in the mornin’ an’ I ain’t havin’ you ruin my first day on the job.” It was far from the reality of the reason she was trying to slip out at this point, but she was doing it anyway. It was a believable enough reason - teetering close enough to reality, a sliver of enough of the truth that she knew it could pass for it. “Look who be talkin’ ‘bout bias ‘ere.” That roguish grin never so much as faltered on his expression. “‘Sides, t’ain’ bias if its true.” All smug and cocky, right along with the expectations he was sure she had because they were the ones everyone had of him unless he decided otherwise. Sure he could argue that he’d decided, several times over, that Rogue got to see more of him than what he showed to the world, but how much of that applied right now? As sure as he could sit here and say he knew, as sure as he could sit here and, spot on, smile at her like she hadn’t missed a single day? As sure as he could act as Diable-may-care, as sure as he could sit across from her and drink, smile, and try his best to charm her… There really wasn’t a lie in the world he could tell to himself that made it any more clear. There never had been when it had come to Rogue. It was part of how he’d known. It was part of how he’d always known. He was the man who didn’t rattle, who could lie, cheat, and steal his way through whatever life threw at him. He was a man who didn’t need roots, didn’t need a place any more than he did need a purpose. He didn’t need any of those things on any minute of any day of any year. He’d swear to it, hand on anything he’d ever held sacred, even his favorite deck of cards, and he wouldn’t have even been lying… ...So long as she wasn’t the one sitting across from him and asking. She was the deck he always carried in his pocket, more than he wanted to admit even to himself. She was every last high card in the deck. The Royal Flush and the Full House. He’d said as much to her before and, thinking about that for a moment again, there was a faint ache that he swallowed behind the last of his drink. It was a well placed cover for the first, and only, time that smile would break. It’d wash right down with the hard burn of the past, the very same thing that was coming right up in his face hotter than the Phoenix, and he wouldn’t even miss a beat as the cigarette was thrown down under his boot as he came up this full height. “Well’n, far be it from Gambit to be your excuse hm?” He winked at her, rolling back on his heels as he set the glass back down on the table and full well prepared to abandon it right there. “‘Sides, dis’ responsible thing you be doin’...is a good look for you an ‘un of us gots to be doin’ it hm? How else we supposed to keep things in balance?” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket before he stepped out from around the table and waved a hand in the direction of the door. It was probably the only serious tell he’d given all night long, not trying to finagle some form of affection out of her but if Rogue had taught him any one thing over the years… It was that good things were worth waiting for. |