The Cajun was certainly going to Hell, if for nothing more than adultery.
"You like bein' dea', don' you?" It was a question that came out of the blue.. well. Sort of. He'd come to this deduction after spending this short amount of time with her, because she kept pointing out that she was dead. Kept reminding him. It always came back to that. She had talked about it, had mentioned it again, then had elaborated, let him know several things about death, decay, and the human corpse.. then had talked about it some more. This woman liked that she was dead. And for some reason, it made Gambit smile. He was a mutant. He'd known all his life that he was different. He'd been born with those strange eyes, he hadn't developed them like many mutants.. he'd only developed his powers. But he'd always looked like this. A freak, to most people. He'd never hidden it though, never tried to be normal like the crowd. The only time he'd ever covered his eyes was when he was trying to entice a woman into bed to steal her purse. He didn't want to have to spend twenty minutes charming her, to get her over the curiosity of his eyes. He wanted a quick deal, so sunglasses were in order. But beyond that? He'd never been ashamed. Never hated it. Never wished to be 'normal'. Many mutants he knew wished just that. Wished to look normal. Wished to have no powers. Wished to be able to die. To be like everyone else.
Gambit had never wanted that. He was better, because of what he was. He was perfect the way he was. And Laura, even in her rotting state, seemed somehow proud to be dead.