If Bobby had been in his usual frame of mind, he would have probably commented about Rogue knowing how to bring down the house – this time with an actual Blockbuster. But since he wasn’t, he instead erected an ice shield to guard against the debris and cloud of dust that rolled in when the theater caved in.
He spotted Rogue flying from the wreckage, relatively unharmed as he’d figured she would be. She looked pissed at Gambit, and while Bobby could certainly empathize, he could hear sirens in the distance, coming closer. “Whatever you’re about to say to him,” he told Rogue, “maybe it can wait until we get away from here. Cops are coming.”
Once Bobby and Gambit were airlifted to the car, Bobby evaporated the cocoon surrounding Gambit before hypothermia could set in. With Rogue in the passenger’s seat, and Gambit in the back seat, Bobby drove them to an empty parking lot in an alley away from the demolished theater. “So, LeBeau … you want to explain what happened back there?”
Still shivering, Remy managed a lazy shrug. “’Rauders rolled in. Tried t’start somet’in’, den y’all wrecked d’place.”
“Yeah, nice try,” Bobby replied, attempting a reasonable discussion even as he could feel the anger emanating from Rogue. He absently placed a hand on her covered shoulder, massaging it slowly to keep her calm. “How about you explain the part about the Marauders being part of this Deep Dark Secret of yours?”
Bobby sighed. “Do you really want to press your luck, when the woman who has seen what’s in your head is within arm’s reach of you?”
Remy’s red-on-black eyes widened. He looked genuinely worried. And then he focused on the casual way Bobby was touching Rogue. Those eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So. Dere a story wit’ you two?”