As the cajun spoke, he kinda found it all funny. Why would Scott ever go to a funeral for Sinister? And someone vaporized him? He would have to ask around about that.
After a few moments, the young man began to give the old speech about how he couldn't help how he was. Seemed no villain wanted to admit it was their choice to do bad things. Scott had no reason to think Remy would be different.
About the time he thought their conversation was over, he saw the pink glow as he mentioned a card. Scott knew what that meant from previous battles, and files on known hostiles. This wasn't good.
"Damn it, man! There are people around!" Then again, Gambit didn't have the same morals as Scott. When the card blew, it sent him flying back into the sidewalk store. The people ran in every direction at the sound of explosions.
Scott sat there in a hump, knocked on his ass really, looking to the idiot with gritted teeth. "So you are pissed because you boss thought I was so awesome?" He stood, looking at the damage. It blew his jacket open, leaving a hole in his shirt. Luckily, the skin was only red and burned to touch, but it could have been worse.
With all the people running past them, he couldn't risk a blast. It could hit a stray person, or knock over a street light and kill someone. He would have to tap into other training. His left arm hurt to move, but Scott learned to push through any pain, and do what needed to be done. Walking towards the red-eyed bandit, he took a boxer's stance, staring at the guy who almost blew his arm clean off. "I don't want trouble. But I will handle you if I have to. Why don't you just crawl into whatever hole you live in, and we will chalk this up to a misunderstanding?"