Who: Gambit (1610) & Laura Kinney What: Running into the little Logan! When: Sometime mid-day *Backdated to July* Where: The Marketplace Rating: Triggers for possible violence and language -- and because Laura, will update as needed: Current trigger tags: Minor mentions of past abuse. Status: Log - Complete
Gambit had been a busy little bee since coming to Knowhere. It was nice, he felt very much at home. He just missed Marian.. A lot. So he’d filled up his time with other things. He’d made some friends (sort of), he’d started up a partnership with Sabo, he’d gotten himself some contacts, he’d stolen some of the matter mined from the Celestial, he’d gotten some things off the docks, and he’d gotten to work. He now had quite a nice little foothold in the black market, and he had a small crew of three who worked for him.
And now he’d managed to get himself a nice little spot with a wizard. And an Angel. That was a little creepy, but he could manage. Maybe he was in a little deep, but he wasn’t over his head yet, and he was still growing!
So while his men were down in the black market taking care of moving merchandise, Gambit was in the actual market, buying a few little trinkets, and some imported (of course it was imported, nothing grew here) food.
That was when he took notice of the girl. A young girl with dark hair. She was maybe twelve? At the most. And she was..
Good Lord, was she stealing? Merde, did she suck at it!
Once she had what she wanted and was walking off, Gambit paid for his trinket and followed her. He wasn’t that subtle about it. And he’d follow her for as long as she’d allow it, until she either got to her location, or turned around and confronted him.
Even with Logan (and, to a lesser degree) Sabo’s little talk about stealing things, even with Kitty interrupting her when she’d been exploring the apartments, Laura seemed to put little stock in it other than she needed to be more mindful of her observations and how she was observed. She wouldn’t steal from people anymore, since the ordeal at having to return things to those she’d taken them from was….not something she wanted to repeat. Logan’s displeased face was one of the very few things that seemed to phase her at all but, quite clearly, it had become something she actively sought to avoid -- at least insomuch as her curiosity would allow.
That, really, was her biggest problem with Knowhere. She didn’t know who to ask about what, she didn’t even know where to start. The place was like nowhere she’d ever been before. It was filled with all manner of things and people, places she could go, things she could try, that Laura found it practically impossible to sit still. The fact that she was more than aware of her abilities and talents, that she knew how to handle herself in a fight should it come to it and that she was able to heal from most wounds, perhaps made her brazen even.
She’d taken to mostly perusing the docks, because there seemed to be enough commotion going on there that she could easily get lost and she’d found the ships to be interesting (even if that wasn’t the word she would use for it.). Sometimes she’d make her way to the other places, ones that seemed to have people lurking about in them, though less than the markets or the residential areas. Sometimes she’d even just climb around and get up high, dangling her feet off the edge of a roof to watch and listen to the people moving around below her unaware. In fact, about the only place she’d largely shied away from on the whole was some place she’d overheard known as The Museum.
When everyone seemed to regard a place with hostility or smell like fear when the spoke of it, Laura had no small measure of notions to keep her distance. The last thing she needed here was to run afoul of someone everyone was afraid of or seemed to want to hurt. Eventually, no doubt, her curiosity would get the better of her there too, but that day was still a long ways off yet as there was still so much she hadn’t yet seen or tried. Starlins, for example, or more of the new foods in the marketplace....which was what had driven her back there today.
This time it was some strange meat on a stick, or at least Laura thought it was meat. It smelled sweet and looked rather sticky, but it was bundled up in such a way that it would be easy for her to grab two or three of them at a time and…
Laura stopped. Remembering being caught by Sabo, because a Merchant had evidently spotted her, she took a more thorough look around. She was careful to plot and plan her approach too, coming in from the flank of the stall where there were overhanging sticks she could just easily grab and scoot with. It was hardly the cleanest of plans but, having limited experience in places like this one, it was workable enough. She was at least certain the shopkeep had spotted her this time as she tucked her pilfered foods into the flap of her traffic and made quick tracks toward one of the many hiding places she’d found for herself in her time here.
Or at least that would have been the plan, if her nose hadn’t been so active the whole trip there.
Laura was nothing if not a fast learner. Her life had all but demanded it. She learned when the hands had struck her hard, when she’d been knocked to the floor because she failed at a task. She learned never to make the same mistake twice because the punishments were always worse when she did. It was why, this time, when she she smelled the same distinct smell, when she heard the same footsteps behind her, she didn’t just continue on like it was nothing. In fact, she did quite the opposite.
She whirled, much more nimbly and gracefully than one might have expected from a child her size, and immediately stood her ground. She sniffed once, twice, at the air, using her nose to pick out the specific person she was certain had been following her, before she locked eyes on him. She wanted him to know she knew. She wanted him to know she wasn’t afraid and, if the faint curl of her upper lip was any indication, she wanted him to know that this was not a good idea.
When confronted in such a manner, Gambit jerked to a full stop and raised up both of his hands as if in surrender, gloved fingers spread wide to show he wasn’t carrying any weapons-- of course, his hands (his very skin) was his weapon, but she didn’t need to know that. Instead, he managed a charming smile and shrugged up his shoulders while tilting his head, those dark eyes (hidden beneath mirrored sunglasses) locked onto her.
“Bonjour, princesse.” Her sneer, if noticed, was gone entirely ignored. He greeted her, instead, as if she had turned around and smiled brightly, then asked him to have some tea. Or to play with her dolly. But this girl didn’t have a dolly and Gambit was relatively sure she wasn’t the tea drinking sort.
“Y’ know.. Y’ ain’ exac’ly real good at stealin’ stuff.” Slowly, his hands lowered and he pressed them into his pockets, casual as you please. His hips cocked just so, a move meant to draw the eyes down, but it wasn’t consciously done-- it wasn’t as if he were trying to seduce the girl. She was too young even for Gambit! She was cute, though.. If she’d smile. “Coul’ teach ya. Y’ know.. Give y’ some pointers. Make sure y’ don’ keep gettin’ caught. Saw ‘dat post ‘bout ‘de scoldin’ y’ got. Can help make sure ‘dat don’ happen ‘gain.” Then again, nothing in this world was free, and he would expect to get something out of all this training, if she accepted.
He could put her to work. She could do very well for herself, under him. He could make sure she stayed busy and that her idle hands didn’t end up doing the devil’s work.. But rather his own.
Laura, at least, recognized the posture instantly. So, he didn’t want to fight. That was enough for her to relax, if only slightly. Really it was more of a ‘she looked less like she was going to pounce on him than anything else. At the very least it was a ’I probably won’t use my claws’ moment of consideration, before she’d drop back a pair of steps when he spoke.
The accent was easy to recognize and, strangely enough, she didn’t seem to have much trouble focusing on his face. Maybe it was because his eyes were so different? Maybe it was because the accent was so pronounced. Maybe it was because of the well he smelled. Tobacco was a very distinctive scent and it tended to be very specific to the brand and the smoker itself, which would make him very easy to recognize in the future. All positive points, as she could see them. The easier and more memorable a person was to her, the more she felt safe around them. It wasn’t because they promoted it themselves mind you, but because they were easy to identify, to know when they were coming, and to know how best to avoid them in the future if it came to it.
Which, considering she was getting another lecture in her thieving, Laura was distinctly considering the latter option. At least until he mentioned the reprimand Logan had given her. That was enough to snap her attention forward to him. A quick consideration was given before she spoke; should she speak French? His accent suggested he would comprehend her. On the other hand, if she kept that as an element of surprise, Laura was certain it would benefit her down the road.
“Why?” Was the simple question. Laura may have been young, but she wasn’t inexperienced. The world offered if it didn’t expect something in return and, considering what he was offering? Laura knew, and had been lectured plenty even just since arriving here, that stealing was not something she should be doing, and yet here this man was offering her an education in how to be better at it. It wasn’t instruction Laura was keen to turn down, but she had the good sense -- and the conditioning -- to be wary of anyone offering her anything. It’d been the same with Kitty, it’d been the same with Logan and Ororo. It was that way with everyone and everything.
Trust was one of the very first things Laura KInney had lost in people, especially strangers offering gifts.
“Why?” The Cajun parroted back at her, then laughed and tilted his head, hair swinging some as he regarded her with a smile. “‘Cause y’ gonna do somethin’, shoul’ be ‘de best at it, non? An’ lookit y’.. Coul’ be ‘de bes’. Y’ small, y’ a girl, people don’ expec’ ‘dat shit. Y’ coul’ be really good. Coul’ have a real future doin’ ‘dis.. Or anythin’ else y’ wanna do.” Lazily, his hands slipped into his pockets, eyes still focused entirely upon her. She had his complete attention and he wanted her to know it.
“Can teach y’ all kindsa thin’s.. Stuff gonna bring in money, stuff gonna make it easier t’ live here-- an’ stuff ‘das gonna be fun, challengin’.. T’ink y’d do better wit’ a job, non?” Leave it to Gambit to want to put a twelve year old girl to work.
But this wasn’t just some twelve year old girl and he knew it. This was something else entirely.
“Can be doin’ somethin’ wit’ y’ time, ‘steada sittin’ ‘round feelin’ useless.” He didn’t know that she did that, but he knew that he did, and he assumed other people must, as well. Especially the restless types.. And she struck him as restless.
“Wha’cha t’ink?” His next question, eyebrows lifting up in an inviting sort of way. It was all up to her, and he hadn’t even asked her name. Names really weren’t all that important, anyway.
Laura considered the words for a long moment. There were echoes of lessons long past, reminders that if she was going to do something it should be done right, that she should be the best there was at what she was built to do. It caused a narrowing of her gaze at him, but one more intent on trying to piece together who he might be than one with any kind of hostility to it.
So far, he did not fit in with her expectations of what people, or at least those in her new life, had generally been like. Most of them wanted her to do different kind of things. Most of them discouraged her from things like theft and, indeed, seemed intent to steer her down a very different path than the one she had been made and trained for. Most people also did not talk in such thick accents or with a sense of personality that was all kinds of foreign to her. He spoke of money, something Laura understood and knew she’d likely need here as much as she had where she’d been before. He also spoke of her potential of assets of hers that had been praised many times in her life, and, at least for a moment, there was a sense of familiarity that came with that.
It was, however, brief. Laura and trust were not things that went well together. Certainly not when strangers were showing up, catching her at something she previously thought she’d been quite good at (she wasn’t really, she just came from a much less observant world), and then going against what most people in life would have accepted from her. She kept her gaze half on his pockets, watching for any movement from her hands that might have seen a need to reaction, while being sure to keep her distance. Any movement he made and she would make one to mirror it, keeping the space between them a bit of a constant while she attempted to figure out just what was happening here.
So far there were two things she could say for certain: One was that this man’s first language was probably not English or, if it was, he hailed from a place she couldn’t even conceptualize. The second? The second was that he was offering her something and hadn’t said one word about what he’d wanted in exchange. Laura might have been young, but if there was one thing she’d learned in all that time spent traveling on her own? It was that nothing, absolutely nothing, was ever done for you without someone expecting something. It took all shapes and sizes, some people swore they didn’t, but Laura? She knew, or at least thought she knew, better.
“
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<b>Who</b>: Gambit (1610) & Laura Kinney <b>What</b>: Running into the little Logan! <b>When</b>: Sometime mid-day *Backdated to July* <b>Where</b>: The Marketplace <b>Rating</b>: Triggers for possible violence and language -- <i>and because Laura</i>, will update as needed: Current trigger tags: Minor mentions of past abuse. <b>Status</b>: Log - Complete
<lj-cut text="Good Lord, was she stealing? Merde, did she suck at it!">
Gambit had been a busy little bee since coming to Knowhere. It was nice, he felt very much at home. He just missed Marian.. A lot. So he’d filled up his time with other things. He’d made some friends (sort of), he’d started up a partnership with Sabo, he’d gotten himself some contacts, he’d stolen some of the matter mined from the Celestial, he’d gotten some things off the docks, and he’d gotten to work. He now had quite a nice little foothold in the black market, and he had a small crew of three who worked for him.
And now he’d managed to get himself a nice little spot with a wizard. And an Angel. That was a little creepy, but he could manage. Maybe he was in a little deep, but he wasn’t over his head yet, and he was still growing!
So while his men were down in the black market taking care of moving merchandise, Gambit was in the actual market, buying a few little trinkets, and some imported (of course it was imported, nothing grew here) food.
That was when he took notice of the girl. A young girl with dark hair. She was maybe twelve? At the most. And she was..
Good Lord, was she <i>stealing</i>? Merde, did she <i>suck</i> at it!
Once she had what she wanted and was walking off, Gambit paid for his trinket and followed her. He wasn’t that subtle about it. And he’d follow her for as long as she’d allow it, until she either got to her location, or turned around and confronted him.
<hr>
Even with Logan (and, to a lesser degree) Sabo’s little talk about stealing things, even with Kitty interrupting her when she’d been exploring the apartments, Laura seemed to put little stock in it other than she needed to be more mindful of her observations and how she was observed. She wouldn’t steal from <i>people</i> anymore, since the ordeal at having to return things to those she’d taken them from was….not something she wanted to repeat. Logan’s displeased face was one of the very few things that seemed to phase her at all but, quite clearly, it had become something she actively sought to avoid -- at least insomuch as her curiosity would allow.
That, really, was her biggest problem with Knowhere. She didn’t know who to ask about what, she didn’t even know where to start. The place was like nowhere she’d ever been before. It was filled with all manner of things and people, places she could go, things she could try, that Laura found it practically impossible to sit still. The fact that she was <i>more than aware</i> of her abilities and talents, that she knew how to handle herself in a fight should it come to it and that she was able to heal from most wounds, perhaps made her brazen even.
She’d taken to mostly perusing the docks, because there seemed to be enough commotion going on there that she could easily get lost and she’d found the ships to be interesting (even if that wasn’t the word she would use for it.). Sometimes she’d make her way to the other places, ones that seemed to have people lurking about in them, though less than the markets or the residential areas. Sometimes she’d even just climb around and get up high, dangling her feet off the edge of a roof to watch and listen to the people moving around below her unaware. In fact, about the only place she’d largely shied away from on the whole was some place she’d overheard known as <i>The Museum</i>.
When everyone seemed to regard a place with hostility or smell like fear when the spoke of it, Laura had no small measure of notions to keep her distance. The last thing she needed here was to run afoul of someone everyone was afraid of or seemed to want to hurt. Eventually, no doubt, her curiosity would get the better of her there too, but that day was still a long ways off yet as there was still so much she hadn’t yet seen or tried. Starlins, for example, or more of the new foods in the marketplace....which was what had driven her back there today.
This time it was some strange meat on a stick, or at least Laura <i>thought</i> it was meat. It smelled sweet and looked rather sticky, but it was bundled up in such a way that it would be easy for her to grab two or three of them at a time and…
Laura stopped. Remembering being caught by Sabo, because a Merchant had evidently spotted her, she took a more thorough look around. She was careful to plot and plan her approach too, coming in from the flank of the stall where there were overhanging sticks she could just easily grab and scoot with. It was hardly the cleanest of plans but, having limited experience in places like this one, it was workable enough. She was at least <i>certain</i> the shopkeep had spotted her this time as she tucked her pilfered foods into the flap of her traffic and made quick tracks toward one of the many hiding places she’d found for herself in her time here.
Or at least that would have been the plan, if her nose hadn’t been so active the whole trip there.
Laura was nothing if not a fast learner. Her life had all but demanded it. She learned when the hands had struck her hard, when she’d been knocked to the floor because she failed at a task. She learned never to make the same mistake twice because the punishments were always <i>worse</i> when she did. It was why, this time, when she she smelled the same distinct smell, when she heard the same footsteps behind her, she <I>didn’t</i> just continue on like it was nothing. In fact, she did quite the opposite.
She whirled, much more nimbly and gracefully than one might have expected from a child her size, and immediately stood her ground. She sniffed once, twice, at the air, using her nose to pick out the specific person she was certain had been following her, before she locked eyes on him. She wanted him to know <I>she knew</i>. She wanted him to know <i>she wasn’t afraid</I> and, if the faint curl of her upper lip was any indication, she wanted him to know that this was not a good idea.
<hr>
When confronted in such a manner, Gambit jerked to a full stop and raised up both of his hands as if in surrender, gloved fingers spread wide to show he wasn’t carrying any weapons-- of course, his hands (his very <i>skin</i>) was his weapon, but she didn’t need to know that. Instead, he managed a charming smile and shrugged up his shoulders while tilting his head, those dark eyes (hidden beneath mirrored sunglasses) locked onto her.
“Bonjour, princesse.” Her sneer, if noticed, was gone entirely ignored. He greeted her, instead, as if she had turned around and smiled brightly, then asked him to have some <i>tea</I>. Or to play with her dolly. But this girl didn’t have a dolly and Gambit was relatively sure she wasn’t the tea drinking sort.
“Y’ know.. Y’ ain’ exac’ly real good at stealin’ stuff.” Slowly, his hands lowered and he pressed them into his pockets, casual as you please. His hips cocked just so, a move meant to draw the eyes down, but it wasn’t consciously done-- it wasn’t as if he were trying to seduce the girl. She was too young even for Gambit! She was cute, though.. If she’d smile. “Coul’ teach ya. Y’ know.. Give y’ some pointers. Make sure y’ don’ keep gettin’ caught. Saw ‘dat post ‘bout ‘de scoldin’ y’ got. Can help make sure ‘dat don’ happen ‘gain.” Then again, nothing in this world was free, and he would expect to get something out of all this training, if she accepted.
He could put her to work. She could do very well for herself, under him. He could make sure she stayed busy and that her idle hands didn’t end up doing the devil’s work.. But rather his own.
<hr>
Laura, at least, recognized the posture instantly. So, he didn’t want to fight. That was enough for her to relax, <i>if only slightly</i>. Really it was more of a ‘<i>she looked less like she was going to pounce on him</i> than anything else. At the very least it was a <i>’I <b>probably</b> won’t use my claws’</i> moment of consideration, before she’d drop back a pair of steps when he spoke.
The accent was easy to recognize and, strangely enough, she didn’t seem to have much trouble focusing on his face. Maybe it was because his eyes were so different? Maybe it was because the accent was so pronounced. Maybe it was because of the well he smelled. Tobacco was a very distinctive scent and it tended to be very specific to the brand and the smoker itself, which would make him very easy to recognize in the future. All positive points, as she could see them. The easier and more memorable a person was to her, the more she felt safe around them. It wasn’t because they promoted it themselves mind you, but because they were easy to identify, to know when they were coming, and to know how best to avoid them in the future if it came to it.
Which, considering she was getting another lecture in her thieving, Laura was distinctly considering the latter option. At least until he mentioned the reprimand Logan had given her. That was enough to snap her attention forward to him. A quick consideration was given before she spoke; should she speak French? His accent suggested he would comprehend her. On the other hand, if she kept that as an element of surprise, Laura was certain it would benefit her down the road.
“Why?” Was the simple question. Laura may have been young, but she wasn’t inexperienced. The world offered if it didn’t expect something in return and, considering <i>what</i> he was offering? Laura knew, and had been lectured plenty even just since arriving here, that stealing was not something she should be doing, and yet here this man was offering her an education in how to be <i>better</I> at it. It wasn’t instruction Laura was keen to turn down, but she had the good sense -- and the conditioning -- to be wary of anyone offering her anything. It’d been the same with Kitty, it’d been the same with Logan and Ororo. It was that way with everyone and everything.
Trust was one of the very first things Laura KInney had lost in people, especially strangers offering gifts.
<hr>
“Why?” The Cajun parroted back at her, then laughed and tilted his head, hair swinging some as he regarded her with a smile. “‘Cause y’ gonna do somethin’, shoul’ be ‘de best at it, non? An’ lookit y’.. Coul’ be ‘de bes’. Y’ small, y’ a girl, people don’ expec’ ‘dat shit. Y’ coul’ be really good. Coul’ have a real future doin’ ‘dis.. Or anythin’ else y’ wanna do.” Lazily, his hands slipped into his pockets, eyes still focused entirely upon her. She had his complete attention and he wanted her to know it.
“Can teach y’ all kindsa thin’s.. Stuff gonna bring in money, stuff gonna make it easier t’ live here-- an’ stuff ‘das gonna be fun, challengin’.. T’ink y’d do better wit’ a job, non?” Leave it to Gambit to want to put a twelve year old girl to work.
But this wasn’t just some twelve year old girl and he knew it. This was something else entirely.
“Can be doin’ somethin’ wit’ y’ time, ‘steada sittin’ ‘round feelin’ useless.” He didn’t know that she did that, but he knew that <i>he</i> did, and he assumed other people must, as well. Especially the restless types.. And she struck him as restless.
“Wha’cha t’ink?” His next question, eyebrows lifting up in an inviting sort of way. It was all up to her, and he hadn’t even asked her name. Names really weren’t all that important, anyway.
<hr>
Laura considered the words for a long moment. There were echoes of lessons long past, reminders that if she was going to do something it should be done <i>right</i>, that she should be the best there was at what she was built to do. It caused a narrowing of her gaze at him, but one more intent on trying to piece together who he might be than one with any kind of hostility to it.
So far, he did not fit in with her expectations of what people, or at least those in her new life, had generally been like. Most of them wanted her to do different kind of things. Most of them discouraged her from things like theft and, indeed, seemed intent to steer her down a very different path than the one she had been made and trained for. Most people also did not talk in such thick accents or with a sense of personality that was all kinds of foreign to her. He spoke of money, something Laura understood and knew she’d likely need here as much as she had where she’d been before. He also spoke of her potential of assets of hers that had been praised many times in her life, and, at least for a moment, there was a sense of familiarity that came with that.
It was, however, brief. Laura and trust were not things that went well together. Certainly not when strangers were showing up, catching her at something she previously thought she’d been quite good at (she wasn’t really, she just came from a much less observant world), and then going against what most people in life would have accepted from her. She kept her gaze half on his pockets, watching for any movement from her hands that might have seen a need to reaction, while being sure to keep her distance. Any movement he made and she would make one to mirror it, keeping the space between them a bit of a constant while she attempted to figure out just what was happening here.
So far there were two things she could say for certain: One was that this man’s first language was probably not English or, if it was, he hailed from a place she couldn’t even conceptualize. The second? The second was that he was offering her something and hadn’t said one word about what he’d wanted in exchange. Laura might have been young, but if there was one thing she’d learned in all that time spent traveling on her own? It was that nothing, absolutely nothing, was ever done for you without someone expecting something. It took all shapes and sizes, some people swore they didn’t, but Laura? She knew, or at least thought she knew, better.
“<span title=”I think you should tell me what you want.”> Je pense que vous devriez me dire ce que vous voulez.</span>” Her French was clean, with a well manicured accent driven into her by one of her many, many, strict teachers. She was guessing at it really, extrapolating what language she guessed would best be understood by him, while still having a chance at going over the heads of the standard passerby. Language, Laura had learned early on, was one of the most useful tools she had -- when she decided to use it.
<hr>
Gambit was doing his best to remain relatively still, non-threatening, as if he were confronting a wounded alley cat on the back streets of the French Quarter, trying to lure the poor thing into sticking around so he could bring it something to eat, something to drink.. And in time, perhaps, give it the attention it needed.
But for now, the only goal was getting this scared little kitty to not run away. So his body language remained relaxed, his muscles eased instead of tight, looking much like a languid housecat himself.
Then, the girl spoke in French and a smile crept over his face, slow and steady like honey in winter. She knew French. It was France-French, of course, it was different than his bastardized Cajun-French, but they were closed enough that he could understand her and she’d be able to understand him.
“<span title=”I want you, I don’t think I was very subtle about it.”> Je te veux, je ne pense pas que j'étais très subtil à ce sujet..</span>” It was painfully clear he didn’t mean it in a weird, sexual way. Nor did he mean it in a weird, romantic way. He’d said that he wanted to teach her how to steal and he meant it. He wanted to give her a job. He wanted to offer her something to do with her talents. He wanted to offer her something to do that would keep her out of trouble. Sort of. At least it would keep her out of trouble with the normal population of Knowhere, though it’d put her in harm’s way with the people who weren’t so.. Kind. He had no doubt she could handle herself.
Especially if she was that freak of nature’s daughter. Wolverine. She looked like him. She had that same look in her eye-- and he’d heard chatter. He read it all, even if he didn’t respond. He knew what was going on out there. It hadn’t taken him long to figure it out, to put two and two together.
“Mebbe give y’ somethin’ proper t’ do. Y’ seem <i>bored</i>.” Dancing back and forth between French and English was the norm for the Cajun. It was his element. It was how he’d talked back home.
Not that he could really call that hell-hole ‘home’.
<hr>
The first thing Laura tended to regard about any situation involving another person was their presentation. Not just way they looked or acted, but how they <i>smelled</i> as well.
He didn’t smell afraid.
She might have been young by the standards of a normal world, but everything about the way she was staring at the man in front of her told the clear tale: She was sizing him up. She was reading him to the best of her ability, constantly calibrating the situation in front of her. She didn’t just settle on his face either, but scanned his physique for signs of weapons or intent that meant she should brace herself for this interaction to turn towards hostile.
In her mind, it was only a matter of time until it, like everything else, went just that way and that notion was probably very clearly displayed on the way she moved around him. She kept her distance, kept her muscles loose and limber, and left herself plenty of room to move out of his way. Right alongside this however was the straight, deadpan way, she had settled her eyes onto his. It was primitive, going back to the animalistic roots that were hardwired into her DNA as a result where they’d come from. She was unflinching, unfazed, and unafraid -- and equally as able to communicate that she’d meet violence with violence if that’s the way he turned it.
His <i>words</i> however, drew her half a step further back from him. Context was important. He’d said he wanted to teach her, to show her how to be better at what she was doing, and now he was saying he wanted her for that end and that she seemed bored. It was the latter word that turned her head into a slight tilt to the right, like a puppy that had been given a command and knew it was being spoken to, but wasn’t sure what exactly he’d meant by it -- which was exactly the case. Laura’s life had never afforded her a sense of boredom and she didn’t even know what the word meant.
What she did know was what he’d said and that it was none too far from what <i>a lot</i> of people who had come for her had said to her….even if it seemed like he meant something very much different.
“<span title=”I am not useless”> Je ne suis pas inutile.</span>” The words were spat with all the indignation of a toddler who had just been called something it didn’t quite know to understand, but rebelled based on principle alone. The truth was however, far from it. Laura <i>knew</i> that word. She’d had it thrown at her more than once in response to her failures in learning. Of course, in no way had that been what he’d said, but it was the first response the tiny girl would gravitate towards while she continued to mull over the offer he’d given here.
“People say I should not steal.” Flat, deadpan tones again. “Why would you teach me?” Slowly, her defenses were coming down. The simple fact of the matter was that Laura knew better than to expect any kind of consistency in her life anymore. She’d been thrust into the unknown so many times now, forced to find her way however she was able, that <i>any</i> chance to improve skills that would be useful for her survival….she knew that was something she shouldn’t turn down. However, strangers who showed up offering her the very things she felt like she needed, seemingly when everyone else was opposed to her doing that very thing?
Well, Laura knew enough than to just go running into it blind. That was trouble nobody needed.
<hr>
“Ain’ say y’ were.” Gambit gave her another smile and tugged a small business card from his pocket, holding it between two fingers. Yeah, he’d had business cards made, so what? Don’t judge him. But if he knew anything, it was women-- not that Laura was a woman-- but he knew to leave them wanting; to never give them everything they wanted the first time out.
So, instead of giving her much more, he simply let his head tilt to the side, hair swinging slightly. “Wanna teach’cha, ‘cause if y’ gonna do it, should do it good. Ain’ gonna try an’ stop y’.” Of course he wouldn’t. Aspiring thieves needed to be encouraged to grow and flourish. Especially if he thought he could use them.. And he could use her. In so many ways.
The card was extended out to her. It’d smell like him, of course, and it’d simply have his name scrawled across it. <i>Gambit</i>. She’d be able to get in contact with him, if she decided she wanted the lessons. If she decided she wanted more than to be under Wolverine’s thumb.
“Y’ wan’ me, y’ getta holda me.” It would be her choice entirely.
With the card taken, Gambit would flash her a pleased smile and he’d turn and walk away, hands pressed into his pockets casually.