Remy LeBeau: Here For Your Entertainment. (mssr_lebeau) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-09-06 16:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, remy lebeau (gambit), rosemarie hathaway |
Who: Rose Hathaway & Remy LeBeau
What: “Surprise” run-in
When: Wednesday evening (8/27)
Where: Local Mexican restaurant
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Status: Complete
By the time Wednesday rolled around the last thing on Rose’s mind was that obnoxious man from the network. She still didn’t know what his name was and that made it so much easier to forget about him. Things had been quite hectic since she had a match coming up at the end of the week. Between extra practices, hanging out with Lissa, doing that silly ice bucket challenge, Rose was ready to just relax and enjoy some authentic Mexican food. They had gone out the day before for Taco Tuesday, but it wasn’t one of her usual restaurants, but tonight was back to normal.
The group of fighters were loud as they made their way down the street and into the restaurant where they were greeted just as loudly by the workers. It had been a tough practice session and there was a bruise forming on the corner of her chin, so Rose was more than excited to get a couple drinks in her body. Her ponytail was high on her head and hopefully not dripping thanks to the shower she took a few minutes before they left. She was wearing a pair of workout capris, a v-neck shirt, and flats as she tried to be as comfortable as possible.
She left her friends for a moment to go up to the bar and order her round of drinks - Coronas and shots of Patron when she felt a presence behind her. It wasn’t unusual because the bar was becoming packed and she did her best to ignore it as she waited for the bartender to return with her drinks.
***
“This is a good look for you.” She wouldn’t recognize the voice. Of course she wouldn’t. “I’m sort of excited to try the food here.. a pretty lady told me about it.” Okay, if she couldn’t guess who he was by then, she’d been hit a time too many in her pretty head.
When she turned, she’d find the tall (okay, so not that tall, his shoes made him six feet, but he was five-eleven barefoot, not as tall as he might have been in another life..), well-dressed man standing behind. He was smiling expectantly.
“Hello, Rose.” Nope, no doubt. This was the guy from the network. Luckily, she had a team of fighters with her who could kick his ass if she wanted.
***
The voice wasn’t familiar at all, but she could get a lot from the tone of voice and this voice sounded like he had an annoying secret and he wanted to share it with her. Her brow furrowed as she turned around to look at the man. It took her a moment to figure out who it was but the moment he said her name she realized it was the pain in the ass from the network, “What the hell is your name anyway?”
She really did want to know what is was and she also wanted to find out how in the world he managed to find her. She was hoping to get a head start on him and switch out to another restaurant halfway through the evening. A frown appeared on her face and stayed as the bartender came over with her drinks and set them out in front of her. She thanked him with a couple dollars before turning back to the man in front of her and hoping he would finally answer her.
***
“What do you want it to be?” Playfully asked back. “You look like a woman who’d like a James, or a Jeremy. Something with a J. And an Mmm.” Not the letter, the sound. Oh yes. But look at that smile-- goodness he was cute. No wonder he could say a few charming words, sway a little to the side and get a date. He could have gotten a date if he’d been covered in mud.
Actually, that could have helped his case. That shirt probably would have clung nicely to his chest.
“Those your friends?” He clearly meant the group of people who could definitely kick his ass.
***
“I want it to be your real name,” she answered him honestly. She could easily grab his wallet or something if she truly wanted to, or just ask on the network. It was just bugging her that he knew all this random information about her, but she didn’t have any information on him in her corner. And he may think that he looked absolutely adorable right now, but she wasn’t that impressed, only slightly, and when he referenced her friend she glanced over at the table.
“Yep, those would be them. At least the ones that were at the gym today,” they were a somewhat terrifying bunch, but every single one of them was an absolute sweetheart. She hated that her best friend wasn’t there with them, but this wasn’t her scene and she was doing her best to branch out with her friendships. As she waited for him to answer she grabbed the bucket of beers, slipping the handle around her forearm, and then grabbed the shots with her two hands.
If he wasn’t going to answer her then she was going to go back over to her other friends and ignore the mysterious annoying man.
***
“Remy.” He’d say after a few long seconds. Rose and Remy. Yes, he’d considered that. It sounded nice. The thought made his lips curl up some, but he wouldn’t let himself be distracted. Man, he could be flighty sometimes.
“Can I help?” It looked like she had her hands full, he could certainly take the-- wow, was that a bucket of beer? Really? Who did that? Remy hadn’t had beer.. ever. Good Lord, had he really never had a beer? The thought dawned on him as he stared at them. “Huh.” But hazel eyes came right back up. “Please?” So he could be helpful and nice. See? He wasn’t just handsome and charming and-- yes, he really thought that much of himself-- he was also helpful and thoughtful.
***
“Remy,” she repeated back with a quirk of her eyebrow. It was an odd enough name to be true. She had never met anyone with that name, but then again her best friend’s name was Vasilisa, so she wasn’t one to judge anyone, “Nice to finally know your name.” It wasn’t as odd when you knew the name of the person stalking you into random restaurants, right?
“I guess?” The fact that he used pleased in order to help her carry things back to the table was rather odd. She wasn’t sure how her friends would react to her bringing this random stranger over to their table, but as long as he didn’t make anyone mad then it shouldn’t be a big deal. She held out a few shot glasses to him, “Can you take these for me? I don’t want to end up dropping them all on my way over there. Thanks, by the way.”
Once he took the glasses she kept just a couple in her hands as she lead the way to the table. The tacos had arrived and her friends were already starting to eat as she laid out the shots and placed the beers in the middle of the table. Once Remy moved over beside her she took his glasses and handed those outs and then introduced him to everyone as her friend.
***
“It’s French.” He explained almost absently when she questioned his name. Though, he would take the shots and and follow her to the table, distributing them to the fighters who had claimed them, then flashing a charming smile and even going so far to give a little wave when introduced. “Nice to meet you all.” Political man. This was his life, meeting new people, winning them over, talking them into spending money. That was what Remy did, after all.
He didn’t, however, want to take her away from her friends. He hadn’t expected her to be with such a large group of.. capable people. Hah. And while LeBeau was no slouch, he also wasn’t in a muscle shirt or wife beater and inviting everyone to the gun show. No, his suit made him look slimmer than he was, it tailored down his form. Made him look like he was made for business and not crushing skulls.
Not that he was, of course, made for crushing skulls-- but you get the idea.
“Well, I don’t want to disturb you. So I’ll say my goodbye now and hope you’ll give me a call.” You know, now that he’d proved he was interested.. and a little creepy.. but mostly determined to make nice with this woman and show her he wasn’t who she thought he was.
A business card with his number written neatly on the back was extended out to her. “No hard feelings if you don’t.. but you’ll be missing out.” Confident young man.
***
An eyebrow was raised when he handed her his business card and made a declaration about having her call him. Would she call him? It was completely up in the air at this moment because she really knew nothing more about him except that she had more of a face and a name to that face. Not much to go on if you really stopped to think about - certainly not enough to decide if she wanted to call him about anything.
“You’re going to figure out which restaurant I happen to be in, tell me your name, and then disappear? And then expect me to call you based on the one conversation we’ve had that ended badly. Your chances aren’t very high that I will call you if that’s all you’re going to base it on,” she admitted to him before licking her hand and pouring some salt on it, “Besides, you said you wanted restaurant recommendations and you can’t decide if you like a restaurant without having any of their food.”
Once she finished that comment she licked the salt, took her shot, and quickly placed the lime in her mouth. As she sucked the lime juice she reached to grab a beer out of the bucket, twisted the cap off, and handed it over to him. She then did the same with another one and then grabbed extra lime slices to shove into their beers. It wasn’t her favorite beer at all, but when you were eating Mexican it seemed to fit. She removed the lime, placing it in a napkin, and then clinked her beer bottle against his, “Why don’t you just try a taco or something and then make your escape?”
***
“To be honest?” He’d say with a growing smile. “I’m a little worried your friends are going to kick my ass. And if you don’t call me.. well, I can always find you again.” He’d smile wider at that and looked around the restaurant, then back at her.
And stared as she did that shot.
“I could stay.” He’d say as he looked over the beer in his hand, then looked back up at her. He just wanted to watch her do one of those shots again. “A taco sounds great.” Looking back down at the beer, he’d turn it in his hand.
Huh.
Fun fact, kids: Remy LeBeau had never had beer. Not ever.
***
“Unless you give them a reason to beat you up, they are pretty chill people,” she countered before frowning just slightly at the finding her again comment. It had been weird that he managed to find her so easily when she was hoping it wouldn’t be. It was almost like having a stalker of some sort, but she had given him the proper information.
“You drink it, pretty boy,” she commented as she lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long drink from it. She made a bit of a face from the taste, but grinned when it was over in a second. She then reached down to grab her plate of tacos and held it out to him, “You can have one of mine. I’ll probably end up getting more later in the evening.”
***
Pretty boy? Really? Eh. Okay, he could see it.
“Then I’ll try not to give them a reason to beat me up.” He looked over the beer again and would lift it and give it a sniff.. then he’d press it to his lips and tilt the bottle back-- Oh god that was disgusting. He brought the bottle back down and swallowed, but laughed shortly after and shook his head. “It tastes a bit like what I imagine urine might taste like.” He was used to Scotch.
“But it’ll probably grow on me.” Scotch had-- it hadn’t always been his favorite.
A taco was taken up and considered, then he’d nod and take a bite. Oh. Wow. Now that? That was worth the terrible beer.
***
The comment about the urine caused her to laugh loudly. She almost dropped the plate of tacos at how much she was laughing. He had perfectly expressed how she felt about this beer and she gave him a grin, “I completely agree with you, but for tacos it seems to go so well together. It is really freaking weird. I’ll buy you a better beer or something later.”
She didn’t drink a lot of beer and she wasn’t sure if he would actually enjoy any of the beers she liked. Mich Golden and Bud Light Lime were certainly not the fanciest beers on the menu, but she didn’t like the stuff that tasted too bitter and hoppy. However, she pushed that aside in her mind as she watched him eat the taco before lifting her own up and taking a big bite. It seemed like he truly liked the taco and that made her happy. She was supporting this restaurant and she hoped that it would succeed, “Anything else you want to eat?”
***
He broke into a wide smile as she began laughing about the beer, he’d honestly been a little worried she’d be insulted by it, but he’d never been one to curb his mouth much-- unless he was on television, or giving some sort of interview of a paper or magazine. Out here in the real world? Well, he tended to say things he shouldn’t, which was why he had Haymitch. Haymitch made bad things that happened go away.
As he ate, he was very conscious about the suit he was wearing and would keep one hand under the taco to prevent any from falling on him-- leaning over the table also helped. But as he was finishing it, she’d ask that question about anything else he wanted, and he’d laugh some and wipe his mouth, then his hand (he’d removed just the one glove to eat, the other remained intact), and he’d flash her a smile.
“I’ve been on a diet since I was twelve. I’m starving.” Of course he wanted something to eat. He made up for eating at places like this by a lot more gym time and boiled chicken at home. There was nothing he hated more than boiled chicken. “What are those?” He’d point to another plate.
***
“I think you need a few hours of letting loose. Look at you, you’re in a suit, you’re starving, and you don’t like beer,” she quipped with a playful smile on her face. She turned to look at what he was pointing at, “Fajitas and tamales. Should we go get you a different drink and order some more food for you?” She was willing to leave her friends alone for a while if it would make him more comfortable.
It was highly amusing seeing him obviously out of his element and she was feeling nice enough to help him discover what he had never tried before. The food here was amazing and she knew the waiters, cooks, and bartenders well enough that they would help set him straight, “Maybe we should get you a margarita or something. Oh maybe a few tequila shots and you would be set for a relaxing evening after about three of those.” Was she a bad influence? Oh hell yes, but she did it with a great smile and she would be right there beside you as shit went down.
***
“I don’t own much in the ‘clothes that aren’t suits’ category.” He would admit with a grin, rolling his shoulders back some. Then he’d nod once at her suggestion. Sure, something different to drink and something that was greasy and terrible for him. He’d make up for it later.
“Scotch is my drink of choice.” Though it wasn’t likely this place carried scotch. Not many restaurants did, he normally had to end up at a bar for that. “Really don’t need tequila.” That would certainly make for a.. well.. interesting night, to say the least. He probably wouldn’t remember it come morning, but at least he’d have had fun, right?
Pushing up to stand, he would wait for her, then thank the group and allow Rose to lead the way.
***
“You may want to fix that someday,” she was going to throw in some kind of comment about commoners and that, but she assumed he wouldn’t truly appreciate it so she kept it to herself. Her eyebrow raised when he mentioned scotch being his drink, “Scotch is for old rich people. And while you apparently may be rich you are not old. You need to live a little.”
She highly doubted that the bar did own scotch, they most likely owned one bottle and it was probably old if anything, “And tequila isn’t that bad. The salt and the lime always help. Alright, let’s get you some food and see if we can get you to be a regular person for the night.” It wasn’t very crowded so she made her way over to a spot near the bar and flagged down a waitress. She ordered a couple different items for him to try and a margarita for the hell of it.
***
“Hey, I’m a businessman, I’ve got to always be ready.” He opened his arms some with a smile. “I always look my best, just in case.” But, looking down at himself, he supposed maybe he needed to buy a few pairs of jeans and some button-downs made to be worn without a blazer. Something with a nice color. Something that wouldn’t clash with his hair.
“A regular person? Really? You think I’m not a regular person?” He wasn’t. And not just because he was filthy stinking rich. “I can be a regular person.” The Cajun would insist as he shrugged off his blazer and hung it on the back of his chair, then tugged his tie off and stuffed it into the pocket of that blazer. He undid a few buttons and smoothed his hands over the front of his shirt-- and he’d even pluck that last glove of and put it away.
He’d just have to concentrate on not, you know, blowing something up.
“So why are you so interested in turning me into one of the masses?” But he was smiling away. Oh, he liked this girl.
***
“Even business men and celebrities need to learn how to let loose every once and a while. And you can look your best in something that isn’t a suit,” she pointed out to him. There were a lot of ways to look incredibly attractive in jeans and a t-shirt. She had spent enough time with the rich and privileged growing up that she could probably take him to the Gap and create a whole new wardrobe for him. But the fact that she got to him earned a big smile as he started to undress in front of her.
After a moment she reached over to fix the collar of his shirt, opening it up a little, as her fingers brushed his skin and then she reached up to artfully mess with his hair just slightly. She didn’t want to do too much since they barely knew each other and some people got a little uppity when you messed with their hair. But as she worked she bit her bottom lip just slightly in concentration before stepping back and giving him a half grin.
“Because you look like you need to just be yourself and not an act. I’m not trying to turn you into one of the masses, but trying to bring out your inner regular person out and maybe get that stick up your ass to drop out,” he reminded her of her best friend and she was fairly certain that Lissa would have probably turned out like him if she hadn’t been in her life to make her life a little more normal and not all debutante parties and such.
***
The Cajun was lax, though. He’d look down and watch her hands as they smoothed his shirt into place, and he’d only laugh when she messed up his hair. Not so uptight as she thought, maybe. Just conscious of public appearance. He did, after all, run some sort of big company.
“Hey, I’ve gotten used to this stick, I’m not sure I’d be able to walk straight without it.” He didn’t take himself too seriously.
He didn’t take anything too seriously.
Hell, he’d blown up a few eggs in his penthouse the other day and hadn’t take that too seriously.
It had been a little creepy, but still...
“Sounds like you know a thing or two about having a stick somewhere.” He’d get comfortable once she was done sufficiently messing him up slightly. “Satisfied?” He opened his arms with a smile. Was he common enough for you now, Rose?
***
“Just social interactions,” she commented when he mentioned her knowing things about sticks. She had been around enough uptight people when she accompanied Lissa to various events that she understood how that mentality worked. It wasn’t much fun and she was always thankful that wasn’t her life and she wasn’t put up to those kind of pressures.
“Decently satisfied,” she decided with a playful smile as their food arrived and one of the biggest margaritas she had seen in a while came to the table. There were two straws in it and she was certainly going to make him help her out with it. However, she was far more concerned with the food, “This smells amazing. Alright, feel free to dig in. You’re never going to want to eat boring food again after this.” There was a reason why she kept coming back to this restaurant - they knew what they were doing and maybe she could help shine the light for someone else.
***
“Only decently?” He laughed and shook his head, looking over the margarita with a stunned but pleased expression. “I must be losing my touch. I haven’t decently satisfied a woman since I was sixteen.” Now that had him flashing a smile at her and a wink to go along with it. It could have been an indication he was kidding.
It was likely that it was a completely true statement, however.
“It’s not about wanting to eat boring food. It’s about not wanting to end up like the blob.” He didn’t know if he’d get fat if he just ate whatever the Hell he wanted, whenever the Hell he wanted, but he didn’t want to find out. So he was careful and he worked hard to keep himself looking good.
Women everywhere appreciated his efforts.
Ungloved hands (and surely she’d note how he was a little apprehensive about touching certain things- not big things, tacos and tables and chairs weren’t a concern, but he didn’t want to pick up the little shaker of salt, or a knife, or a napkin; He’d avoided napkins like the plague, he was just being very careful) would scoop up one of those.. well, whatever it was-- wrapped and spicy and smelling like heaven-- and lift it up to take a bite.. oh, that was great. He even moaned deep in his throat and let hazel eyes slide shut. Oh yes.
He could die now, thanks.
***
An appreciative moan like that was exactly what Rose was going for. She knew this food was that amazing and sometimes you just needed to let yourself enjoy the good things in life. Luckily she didn’t really have an issue with keeping the weight off because she was constantly at the gym and her metabolism had always been incredibly high.
“I almost wish I had taken a video of your reaction,” she commented with a playful smirk as she took a bite of her own fill. Her reaction wasn’t on par to his, but she definitely made a noise of appreciation before leaning forward to take a long sip of her margarita. She had never intended to be one of his little dinner dates, so she wasn’t going to bring it up, but she wasn’t completely hating this time spent with him. Maybe he would learn to live a little in the process.
***
No one ever planned it. Well, no, that was a lie. Plenty of women planned it, but the women who didn't often still found themselves a victim of his charms and sitting in this same position. Having dinner with the man that they, up until recently, disliked.
But he really wasn't as bad as all that once you got to experience him up close. Sort of like one of those rides at Disney.
"This is good." He would insist to her once she said the bit about recording him. Lord, he could probably eat anything and stay thin-- what he could not do was eat anything and stay as toned and well built as he was. That required the right amount of daily protein. That meant a proper diet.
It was hard caring so much about what everyone else thought about you.
"So I can't help but notice you're on a date with me." Remarked with a grin. He just had to say something.
***
“I wouldn’t call it a date. You just showed up, this wasn’t fully pre-planned, unless you put a lot more effort into finding where I was going to be,” she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth as she made that comment. Was he being a creepy stalker when it came to this evening? And she was going to deny, deny, deny that this was actually a date.
“More like a learning experience for you,” that was a good way to describe it right? She didn’t want to say anymore so she took another long sip of the drink and tried not to laugh. She could sense his eyes were on her and wondering what was going on, “Don’t ruin the experience anymore by bringing the date word into it. Let’s just enjoy this.”
***
He shrugged up his shoulders with a smile when she asked if he put a lot of effort into finding out where she’d be. No, it wasn’t a lot of effort. It was just enough effort to be fun.
“I guess you could call it a learning experience.” Sure, he would go along with that, if she wanted to call their date a learning experience, so be it. “Hey, I am enjoying it.” His smile said as much, but he’d roll his shoulders back and lean to take a sip of the margarita, finally-- then he made a small face. That was different. Not bad, just different. Clearly, he was an expensive liquor man. Hard stuff. Why drink a glass this big when a little shot would do?
“So tell me how long you’ve been working in law enforcement.” Why law enforcement? Because Remy was somehow perversely attracted to women who could: (a) kick his ass, (b) have their friends kick his ass, and sometimes (c) put him in jail. Well, it was either put him in jail or get their black-market friends to kill him. He didn’t seem to have any ability to choose a woman who was normal-- she was either a law-abiding citizen, or some sort of criminal.
But he always went after the strong, confident women. And she? Well, she was a fighter, she seemed straight-laced, and she wasn’t taking his bullshit. He’d put two and two together and come up with five. It was a shot in the dark but he was calling her out. Law enforcement. Military. Janis Bond?
Even if he was wrong, he was quite sure she’d correct him and he’d find out her profession anyway. Usually he guessed right, but when he was wrong, women were often quick to correct him and put him in his place. It didn’t matter, because he got what he wanted either way.
***
“Law enforcement?” Rose almost spit out her drink. Really? She seemed like the law enforcement type? That job field never even came into her mind when she had been growing up because she had a slight problem with authority, “No. You know I’m a fighter and that’s my job. Professional MMA. I also sometimes moonlight as security places because it’s kind of fun.”
Why did you ever need to grow up when you could just do what you were good at for the rest of your life? Well, until you got a few concussions and couldn’t fight anymore. Rose was certainly the Peter Pan of her friends in the sense that she didn’t really want to grow up. She found something she truly enjoyed doing and a way to get paid for it.
***
She didn’t just fight for fun? It wasn’t like.. a kickboxing club or something? She fought for a living?
Oh. Man. She was so hot.
“Are you kidding me? Really?” Wow.
“So, when can I see you fight?” Of course he wanted to see her fight. “Do you give private lessons?” He could definitely find some time in his schedule for her to kick his ass around the mats a little. And, well, the memories he was waking up with were making him want to test out a few of the things he remembered how to do.
***
“You’ve never heard of MMA? It’s like the hot new thing. I think it’s becoming bigger than boxing at least in the Pay-Per-View Fight Night sense,” she was kind of surprised, but then again this was a man who had never had beer before and he had never really eaten authentic Mexican like he was having right now. She highly doubted he had the time to sit around and watch MMA fighting on any tv channel. Hell, she doubted he even knew what channels were on his tv, if he had one.
“Um, I should have my first major match coming up in a couple weeks. I just joined this group a few months ago when we moved out here, so it’s been a lot of training. All those guys over there,” she gestured over towards her group of friends, “are also fighters that will be at the match. I don’t believe I’m taking any of the girls on. As for private lessons, I could. I’ve got a degree in athletic training, so it’s not out of the realm of possibilities, but I’d probably be kind of rusty at actually training. Now if you just want me to spar with you that’s always fine too. If you don’t want to catch hell from the other guys I know a few other gyms we can always go to.”
It wasn’t the first time she had been asked to spar with random men. It was actually how she got a handful of dates in college. A lot of guys thought they could take her own and were woken up to reality that she was just as good, sometimes better, than them. It always impressed Rose when a guy was secure enough to try and spar with her and didn’t hold back any punches.
***
Hey! He had a television. He’d even watched the stations a few times. He turned it on.. at least ten or twelve times a year.
Remy really, really wanted to see what these memories could help him do. Yes, he could fight-- but that was just punching a guy in the face and stomach a few times to impress girls. This? This was nothing like that. His memories were nothing like that.
But mostly, he just really wanted Rose on top of him.
He needed to see a therapist.
“Is it like..” He snapped his fingers as he thought. “It’s like Chuck Norris?” Yes. He watched Walker, Texas Ranger. Chuck Norris was awesome! He’d been a great idol when he was just a kid.
“A gym that’s not going to make fun of me for getting my ass kicked by a girl would be best, yes. You know any of those?” He was smiling. Of course he was.
***
The comparison to Chuck Norris earned a hearty laugh and her eyes were alight with laughter. It was too much work to be serious all the time, so Rose was usually someone who loved to laugh, “Yes, just like Chuck Norris. Although, I bet his roundhouse kick is better than mine.” She had to admit it was a little flattering that he would compare her to that.
“Well, they wouldn’t make fun of you for getting your ass kicked by me because it’s going to happen. I’m not where I’m at because I’m a horrible fighter. They’ll just make fun of you for being the horrible fighter,” she quipped back, trying to make it not sound *as* insulting as it could be, “But I know a few gyms around the area that aren’t my main haunt. We can set something up.”
***
“Oh, gee, somehow that’s so better.” He laughed but would roll his eyes, finally leaning back. He was stuffed. That was nice. Maybe taking up a bit of fighting would be good-- cardio, right? He already worked out, so this would just serve to beef it up a little. Maybe he could eat more of the things he liked and less.. boiled chicken.
“I’d like that. I think it’d be fun. For both of us. You get to kick my ass and I get to learn something.” And get a hot girl on top of him.
***
“Well, then we’ll have to set up a time,” Rose agreed before leaning forward and taking another drink of the margarita. She had some food left, so she was most likely going to pack that up and continue drinking for some of the evening. Although, most times when she did that she usually left her food at the bar and never really cared until she was craving it the next morning.
“So, now that you’ve filled yourself up with delicious food and had a few new drinks, are you going to get going or stick around? There will probably be more shots of something, some pool, and maybe darts. The boys get up to weird shenanigans as the night goes on,” she wasn’t sure what he was wanting to do for the rest of the night, but she was hoping to continue on with hers. Where she ended up at the end of the night was up in the air, but for now she wanted to continue hanging out at this bar with her friends.
***
Remy would laugh when told there’d be drinking and shenanigans. “As much fun as that sounds, I have a prior commitment.” He had a piece of art that needed to become his or he’d die.
Not really die, but be very unhappy and Remy LeBeau didn’t like to be unhappy.
“I do, however, expect that you’ll text me a time you’re willing to kick my ass.” He’d sit forward with a grin and offer his hand out to her. “I enjoyed tonight. I almost expected to be slapped and thrown out, so thanks for not ruining my perfect record.” Of never being slapped by a woman.
Punched, yes. Slapped, no.
***
She wanted to explain to him that she didn’t have his cell phone number, but realized it was most likely on the business card he had given to her earlier, “No reason to slap you - you came here of your own free will.” She wouldn’t have beat him up unless she had just cause and just because he managed to figure out where she was wasn’t just cause enough. Besides, it sounded like she was going to be able to beat him up in the ring soon enough.
She packed her food away in the Styrofoam containers and got up to walk with him towards the door, “Well, have fun with your prior commitments. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” If he managed to find her this time she wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up somewhere else by surprise.
***
“You will.” He assured. Yes, you’d see him again, Rose. He’d found you once, he could find you again, and he’d make sure he would. “Call me, we’ll meet up.” He hoped she would. He would look forward to that fight she promised him. He wanted to know what he could do. But mostly, he wanted to know what she could do.
“Thanks again for the meal. I’d give you a kiss, but this isn’t a date.” A playful tease that came with a wink, then he’d tip an imaginary hat and head out of the building.