A man travels the world in search of what he needs Characters: Remy Lebeau, Rogue, Open Setting: Streets of New York Content: TBD Summary: Remy is feeling confined to New York
Remy patted down his jacket and retrieved a slightly crushed pack of smokes, tapping one out and holding it between his lips while he search for his lighter. He shielded the flame with his hand, and drew a slow drag, smoke drifting from his lips and hand falling to his side, cigarette hanging limply between two fingers. He ducked under a covered walk way, construction going on overhead, and the people he passed in the confined space seemed annoyed with his smoke. A few pockets were lightened along the way, and the Cajun stepped out into the air again with a smirk.
He needed a side contract. With Sinister pretending to be dead there was less work for him to do. It was hard enough finding reason to keep put in one city when he was needed, but now his feet were itching, and if it weren't for Bethany he would have cleared out ages ago. Not for ever, but his legs needed a stretch, and these walks weren't doing it.