Pyro (controlledburn) wrote in the_next_step, @ 2009-05-21 00:13:00 |
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Current mood: | drained |
Olive Branch
Who: John, Gambit & NPC!Kids
What: John and Gambit talking then getting interrupted by John's would-be admirers
When: Afternoon
Rating: PG
Status: Closed
This place was crazy.
Of that, Remy LeBeau was absolutely certain. This place was insane. When it wasn't filled with students it seemed like a dead place, all the life sucked out of it, but when it was? It was almost too lively, kids everywhere and even though they were all suffering from some form of PTSD (Remy recognised the signs), the general relief in the air that they were all back and all alive was palpable.
He hadn't seen Bobby or John since they got off the X-Jet, the two were shipped off down to the med-lab and, he had heard that John had since escaped and that Bobby had finally woken up. It was a good thing he supposed. He had gone to down to check on them at one point, when Bobby had been unconscious, seen John sitting beside his bed, Scott watching anxiously from outside the small room.
He wondered how it was possible that people didn't notice how much the firestarter cared. It was obvious, Remy saw it, but then he was exceptionally good at reading people. He was bothered by the fact that John seemed so isolated when everyone really should be banding together (not that he was an advocate for Hallmark greetings card sentiments and stuff like that, because he wasn't, but he knew that being alone after experiences like the one they just went through wasn't right), and it was a good thing that the school shrink had offered her services.
Remy had spoken to her once, briefly. He'd made her laugh and then blush and the light in her office exploded.
The memory of the incident made him laugh as his feet took him through the mansion in the search for the elusive nineteen year old.
If no one else was going to worry about John, Remy sure as hell was. He kind of liked the kid; he was good fun and a hell of a lot more complicated than people gave him credit for. Remy was willing to bet he went through a lot of shit before he came to this place, something that was never really explored. There was an anger there.
He pushed open the door to the rec room, no John in there. He'd already checked the kitchen and most of the downstairs rooms. He briefly considered going upstairs but didn't know his way round yet well enough and there was a distinct possibility that he might die of starvation before he ever found his way out of the winding corridors, so he let his feet take him to a place he could be pretty certain John would be soon, if he wasn't already.
Outside.
It didn't take him long to spot where John was standing, smoking a cigarette. Remy watched him finish one, discard the butt and light another before he crossed over. He could barely believe the kid was still on his feet considering how badly hurt he had been during the rescue. There might have been a deep reserve of anger there, but there was strength, too, and it bothered Remy (more than it should, considering) that people seemed to miss out on that too.
"Hey," he greeted, tugging his coat around him a little tighter, "Dey let you outta de med lab or did y' escape?"
John had been elusive as ever, figuring with Bobby awake there was a long line of people who wanted to see him, he wasn't about to stand in their way. Besides the kid needed human contact and John wasn't good at that. He'd stayed away from the journal system, figuring that for once in his life he wasn't in the mood to fight with anybody, he put that down to fatigue, nothing more.
The previously abused skin on his hands was now safely hidden away under the long tattered edges of his sleeves. It would take somebody with a very keen eye to detail to even notice what had happened to his hands and even then they might not put two and two together.Never-mind about the picked at scar tissue across his palm. Had John had a sharper implement there might have been something more sinister, but in places unseen. He hadn't so he'd made do with what he had.
With a freshly lit cigarette in one hand John leaned back against the nearby wall, inhaling and exhaling smoke like a dying man with his last breath. The wolf-kid was around somewhere and he'd apparently picked up the other kid, the one from the museum. What the hell? Apparently whilst everybody else hated him, little kids didn't. There was something very wrong with the world right now.
The sound of the Cajun's voice drew the bruised attention of the firestarter, eyes still heavily hooded and dark from traces of injury. "I escaped."
"Why ain' I surprised?" Remy asked, shuffling a pack of cards that he slid out of his pocket to keep his hands busy. Soon enough he knew he'd be giving in to his craving for a cigarette, but that could wait, he knew, until the time was right. It wasn't just yet. Besides, itcertainly looked like John was smoking more than enough for the both of them.
He finally finished strolling closer and he stood beside John, trench coat blowing in the gentle breeze. "How're you doin'?" he asked, sharp eyes taking in the bruises that still lingered prominently on John's face and the way he was holding himself - doing an admirable job of hiding all those injuries that had nearly crippled him and knocked him out during the rescue. In fact, the moment the kid hit the plane... "Surprised dey ain' got y' back an' tied y' down, to be honest."
There was a momentary tensing of John's shoulders, as if he was readying himself against what he thought to be an insult. "I'm fine," he lied and easily, adept at pulling this sort of thing off. "Pretty sure I'm the least of their worries right now." He shrugged his shoulders, biting back a twinge, simply inhaling smoke.
"What brings you out here?" He asked. "Aside from the obvious."
Remy noticed the tensing of John's shoulders and then remembered what he'd seen on the journal system. It wasn't very private, really, anyone could see the kids snapping at each other. It was understandable, again, the reactions of each person were very different and he supposed if John was used to people attacking him for his behaviour, why shouldn't he just automatically assume that everything was?
"You don' t'ink I coulda just come out here to check up on you?" he asked, tipping his head, the cards moving easily between his fingers, dextrous and clearly confident in what he was doing. He wasn't even looking at them. "You were quite beat up de last time I saw y', John, wanted t' make sure you were really okay, ain' seen y' since de day after we were bought back."
John snorted and shrugged. "Only reason people come out here is to smoke, Cajun." He flicked ash aside and took another drag, burning the cigarette down until the burning embers were licking at the filter. John dropped it and crushed it out under the heel of his trainer, moving to pull another from his rapidly dwindling pack.
He eventually offered the open pack to Gambit, figuring that he might as well share.
"Or to look for people dat're smokin'." Remy noted absently, reaching out and taking a cigarette with a quiet 'merci'. Next one would be one of his. He had a pack in his pocket. "Dat's why someone like Bobby would be out here, non?" Since as far as he knew, the popsicle didn't smoke.
He lit the cigarette with the tip of his finger and took a long, unhealthy drag, holding onto the smoke before he exhaled, letting the wind catch it and take it away. "Spoken to Bobby since he woke up?"
"Whatever," John muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. He flicked open his lighter and lit the tip of the cigarette, bowing his head so he didn't lose the flame. Eventually once the cigarette was lit John took a drag.
He kicked at a loose stone, tilting his head when he spotted the sole of his trainer coming away from the actual trainer itself. Huh, apparently he needed new trainers. "Nope," he said with another shrug.
Remy let the thoughtful silence fall over them for a while, just smoking before he broke it with a quiet, "Anyone said well done t' you for not fallin' t' pieces or passin' out yet?" he asked, wondering if anyone actually paid attention to the young man beside him aside from a choice few. "'Cause dey shoulda done, damn impressive show back there."
John's expression was pricless. It was a mixture of a) suspicion b) confusion and c) disbelief. Clearly the Cajun was smoking more than just tobacco in his cigarettes. "I did what I had to," he answered before filling with his mouth with another round of smoke. "That was all."
It wasn't impressive or commendable, it was simply... what it was: practicality.
Idly his free hand strayed to his collarbone where some lingering burns remained from when he'd reeled the blast back in, not wanting to burn Tamsin alive.
"Technically you went above an' beyond de call of duty, carryin' de iceboy de way you did," Remy pointed out, "Coulda just waited dere for someone to come find y' and let dem carry him." He shrugged, spotting the warring emotions on John's face and wondering why it was such a surprise to him that someone paid him a compliment.
He turned his head to look at John properly, "People don' say nice t'ings to you very often, huh."
John shrugged again. "I'm not exactly the easiest of people." That much he'd admit to, but only that much. "And do me a favour? Don't tell anybody about the carrying, alright? I don't want anybody knowing about that."
He absently rubbed at his hair then dropped his hand to his side, tips of his fingers lightly tapping against his denim clad thigh.
"Ain' no reason not t'compliment you on a job well done or anythin'." Remy shrugged before he nodded. "Not even de kid? Sure," he nodded, "One condition," he carried on before John could voice any suspicions, "When you ain' so beaten up, you an' me go for a drink."
He took another drag on his cigarette and shrugged his shoulders, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling, "Won' tell no one. Can' be lettin' dem t'ink you care, right?"
"Not even the kid," John said with a nod of his head. He considered the conditions and then lifted one shoulder. "Works for me, I can always drink." His mind went back to his conversation with Tamsin, wondering when she planned on going out and getting wasted.
He blew out smoke and was quiet for a long moment before he thought of something. "Hey, you... um, I mean... you know of good places to crash outside of here?"
Remy's eyebrow lifted before he nodded, "I know a couple, own a couple myself. Dis place gettin' to you?" he asked, mulling over John's question before he nodded again, more to himself the second time, though.
"Dis ain' de best place to be. Only jus' got here m'self and I can see dat." He blew out smoke towards the sky, "Den again, might jus' be timin'."
John kicked at another loose stone. "Yeah, something like that." He was in fact considering packing up his meagre possessions and leaving, maybe go to Genosha. Least there he would know where he stood and wouldn't have to deal with everybody looking at him with.... despair or distaste.
"Well, if it's stretchin' your legs you want, I got a place in New York y'can stay in for as long as y'want." Remy offered as if owning a building was no big deal, and the way he talked was like he didn't own just one. "You could even have wild parties dere, ain' gonna complain long as I'm invited." He'd bought it with his vertitable fortune from a life of thievery. Something told him John's desire to get out was a little more serious, though.
John nodded. "Maybe, but I was thinking more of good motels, that sort of thing." He would of course need to find some sort of job because it wasn't like he had any money of his own and no parents to call up for a loan.
He finished off his cigarette and stubbed it out.
"Know a couple of dose too, but if it's acceptin' charity dat's de problem, it ain' dat. I ain' usin' it an' if you were t'stay dere, you'd have to pay for bills an' stuff." Remy lifted his shoulders, burning what was left of his cigarette between his fingers. It was usually a simple process, he'd done it hundreds of times before but this time something snapped inside him and the butt glowed a darker pink than any of the things he'd charged recently and Remy cursed.
He threw it skyward and then grabbed John, covering the injured teenager as the cigarette butt exploded. It was a big explosion considering the size of the item that was charged. The airwaves around them reverberated with the explosion of power. "Merde," he muttered, letting go of John a moment later, offering him a sheepish smile as an apology. "Sorry, John, force of habit to make wit' de grabbin' when it gets outta control. You're hurt enough as it is."
He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Anyone ever told y' you're a good lookin' guy?" It seemed random, considering John was currently beaten to all hell, but it was the truth. Remy just appreciated beauty, no matter what form it came in.
John hadn't been expecting that so when he was grabbed and he couldn't bite back the small sound of pain he made when something pulled in a way it shouldn't have. Thankfully the Cajun was too busy paying attention to what was happening with the cigarette.
When he was let go he went about putting distance between himself and the other man, a little bothered by the fact that Gambit had felt a need to protect him. And then he said what he did and John just gave him a 'wtf?' expression.
"Uh, no." He shook his head. "It's never come up."
Remy chuckled at the 'wtf' expression and shrugged, "Dat's a damn shame," he said. "'Cause you are." And there was something in the way that Remy spoke that meant it was absolutely clear that he was being sincere.
He scratched at his jaw where there was faint stubble growing and he shrugged again, "Don' feel de need t'bullshit you. Can' imagine you'd appreciate dat." he said, unapologetically for throwing a curved ball at John.
John realised he'd lost his cigarette somewhere between Gambit grabbing him and letting go, dammit. He checked his packet and was relieved to find that he still had one left, it was better than none. "You're just a big flirt, Gambit. I've seen you in action."
The cigarette went between the firestarter lips and he brought his lighter up to the tip again. "Bet you're used to everybody falling over themselves 'cause you've complimented them." He exhaled smoke, ignoring the way his entire right side was now throbbing painfully.
Hell, even the cool breeze was irritating the cuts on his fingers.
Remy's hand slid the packet of cigarettes from his pocket into John's, utilising his super sneaky thieving abilities so the kid didn't notice him doing so. He felt a bit guilty about using up the young man's supply, even if it was only one cigarette.
"Ain' used to people fawning, t'ough dey should be," he nodded, "Definitely." It was punctuated with a wink and he lifted his shoulders again, eyes falling on the cuts that littered John's hands, and how some of them looked a lot rawer than he remembered, than they should have been considering the stage of healing they ought to be at.
He paused before offering, almost like a gesture of trust between himself and the younger man, "De name's Remy."
John looked a little taken aback by that shared piece of information and lifted his eyebrow. "Remy, huh?" He mulled the name over and wet his lower lip, offering a smirk. "Remy it is." Not that he would go around telling everybody else, the same way Remy would keep John's secrets to himself.
The tugging on the frayed edge of his hoodie drew John's attention to his waist, groaning a second later as sure enough there was wolf-boy and his little friend. "What do you want now?"
Remy nodded, allowing the understanding to pass between them. There was a level of trust included in someone who lived by a code-name giving their real name out to people. John was the first person Remy had given his name to for a long time. He was about to say something else before he saw the two kids, both of whom were looking up at John with huge eyes like they were waiting for him to sprout wings and fly or something.
He settled on saying, "An' dat comment I made 'fore you tried to call me a flirt? Still de truth." He winked and looked down at the kids, waiting for them to do something. He wondered if he should leave. "You wan' me to leave you alone wit' dem?" he asked John, looking a little (a lot) amused.
The wolf-boy tugged on John's hoodie again before he rested his head against John's hip. Apparently, John's presence was comforting to him. The other kid blinked owlishly at John and looked at the cigarette between his lips.
"Can I have one?" he asked, moving to stand in a similar fashion to John.
"Don't you dare," John said sharply to Remy. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone with two kids he didn't even know and yet had attached themselves to him in a way he wasn't used to. The kid was practically leaning on him and John was trying to figure out what to do with his arms and hands that wasn't holding them way, way out of the way.
He eventually settled for... patting the kid's head, looking at the other.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "You're too young. Maybe when you're older." And then he spotted the way he was stood. "Hey, stop that, don't stand like that."
The kid made a quiet content sound and knocked John's hand with his head again. He couldn't have been more than eight or nine and the affection from someone he apparently looked up to went a long way. Especially after the ordeal they'd gone through. The fur around his neck still had marks where it had been worn away by him attacking the collar. Patches of it had yet to grow back from where they'd shaved it away to do some of the nastier experiments.
Remy just folded his eyes, looking amused as the other kid shifted so that he was standing just like John, like a miniature John right down to the stern look that John was giving him, mirrored and echoed back at John. "But you've got one."
John pulled a slight face at the wolf-kid's reaction before he cleared his throat, continuing with the patting, it seemed to be keeping him quiet. "And I'm older," he pointed. "You can smoke all you want when you hit 15 or 16, but not right now, alright?"
He glanced at Remy, knowing he'd be no help. John took a breath. "Can't you guys get out of here or something? I was in the middle of a conversation."
"Don't want to," the wolf-boy said quietly, nuzzling against John's side - carefully because he knew that John was hurt there, he could smell it. "Like it here." It was punctuated with a happy growl.
The other kid grinned. "Alright." He went back to mimicking John.
Remy laughed and brushed his hair back. "You are popular wit' de little ones." he teased, "Don' t'ink of it as a bad t'ing, man, dey're de yout' of tomorrow or somet'in' like dat. Can teach 'em all kinds of cool stuff."
Aww, crap.
John breathed out slowly, glowering at Remy. "You're an asshole." He eyed the two kids in question and took to tapping his fingers against the wolf-kid's head, trying to figure out how to get rid of them. "How about this? You guys leave me alone for now and you can hang out in my room later or something?"
"You're an asshole," the other kid repeated, glowering at Remy in as much of an imitation of John as he could. It made Remy laugh even harder. It felt like forever since he'd laughed. The wolf kid went back to nuzzling, even with the tapping on his head. It was enough of a show of affection in his mind.
"You mean it?" he asked, huge brown eyes looking up at John from somewhere near his waistline. "We can?"
John was reluctant, but it meant getting rid of them right now. "Yeah, I mean it. So... why don't you guys get lost right now and let me get back to my conversation then I dunno, swing by my room after dinner."
Hopefully it would be enough.
The other kid looked reluctant, kicking at a stone the way he had seen John do so, even going so far as to inspect his trainer afterwards before he looked up and nodded, hands in his pockets. It was a short nod, apparently John was his new idol of who he wanted to be like when he got older. "Okay, cool."
The wolf-boy made another happy growling sound and nuzzled against John's waist before he detangled himself and scratched behind his ear. "See you after dinner!"
And with that, the two boys scurried off back towards the house.
Remy chuckled, hands in his pockets. "N'aw, adorable." he teased. "Got yourself some fans, dere."
"Shut up," John muttered as he reached out and pushed the Cajun. "They're just kids. Really dumb kids." He watched them ago and scratched behind his ear, unwittingly opening up a cut with the movement. "They'll get over it."
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing through a couple twinges.
Remy frowned as John started breathing deeply. He guessed it was because his injuries were paining him, but out of everything that he had seen of the young man, it wasn't worth pointing it out. Not in such an obvious manner anyway.
"You know, dere's one t'ing you can teach dose kids, gonna be helpful in de long run." He said, trying to distract John from whatever it was that was hurting him, all too aware that it was probably partly his fault that John was in pain because of the whole grabbing thing.
"Hmm?" John asked, lifting an eyebrow slowly. "And what's that?" He tucked his sore hands into the pockets of his jeans and opened his eyes, tipping his head to regard the Cajun. John wasn't sure there was anything he could teach those kids of value.
"Apart from how to deal wit' bein' in pain an' still walkin' - carryin' your best friend - in spite of it?" Remy asked, because that was pretty damn valuable in his eyes, before he shook his head, "I might have t'teach you first, 'less you can do it already. Can y'pick locks?"
He shrugged, "Picked it up when I was real young, been de most handy t'ing I ever learned."
John dropped his eyes and focused on where his trainer was coming apart, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He wasn't used to compliments. "No," he said with a shake of his head. "I can't pick locks, but I could have done with that skill back in that place."
Remy noticed his discomfort at the compliment and wondered what idiot had hurt this kid so badly when he was younger that even something that he should have been praised for - the staff should have done it really - made him uncomfortable.
"You wanna learn?" he asked. Remy was a master at his trade, one of the best - if not the best - in the world. And if John would benefit from learning, then it was something Remy would like to do. He found John in equal parts fascinating andintriguing.
John nodded his head. "Yeah, I wanna learn." It wouldn't hurt to have more skills and you never knew when something like that could come in handy, John wanted to be ready for most anything.
"Anyways," he muttered, gesturing vaguely. "I've got stuff to do." There was no stuff, it was just an excuse.
"Uh huh," Remy said, leaning back on his heels, obviously not convinced by John's lame excuse. "Well, when you ain' got stuff t'do, come find me an' I'll teach y'. An' if you're not too busy, you might wanna go see your boy too, he's been askin' about y' since he woke up."
He smiled and touched John's shoulder. "Merci for de cigarette," he said, turning and leaving John to discover the packet he had left behind in his pocket.
His cards were in his hands again and he wandered off, not going back inside just yet. The grounds were calling his name and he needed some air anyway. This place was kind of... suffocating, in a way.