California, Timbuktu, Mongolia, it didn’t much matter to Remy, as long as they weren’t anywhere near New Orleans. He was terrible with finding his way from A to B even if he knew a place like the back of his hand, and well here, he just didn’t know but that had never stopped the Cajun before. He didn’t really know about his ‘probability’ mutation, so had no clue that his general wandering around with his head in the clouds, and still finding himself where he had to be, was due to that. Instead due to how he’d lived, and what he got up to, he tended too just believe that Lady Luck happened to be looking down upon him. Which in a way wasn’t so far from the truth. At the airport, he’d stolen a rich wealthy looking businessman types, PDA and had got them rooms in what claimed to be the best hotel in town via it. How he did such things, again it was more due to the probability effect, he had no real kind of computer training, but he seemed to know what he wanted to do, and therefore managed to achieve it. Pretty much how he could break into places quite so easily as he tended too as well, and of course he always had the hypnotic charm to fall back upon in those kind of circumstances.
In Japan, Remy had been like a child in a giant toy shop, everything had made for him to be hyper and bouncy, the land of computer games after all, or so he felt he needed to point out to Ororo, even if he’d never owned a computer game console, never played any computer games other than the sort of ones that led to tricking a state of the art security system into letting him into forbidden places, and then of course he was not completely blind to the different way of life, but the food … yes fresh raw fish did nothing for the Cajun at all. Fish he didn’t like even at the best of times, but raw fish, definite no, no.
During their short stop over in Japan, he’d got rid of the surfer dude clothing and found something far more to his liking, so at least now they did appear to be more in fitting with one another. She was wearing white, he was wearing black, though he did have a white shirt on, but black well cut suit, made him look a good few years older than sixteen too. He was already over six foot tall, maybe a bit skinny, but the soft stubble on his chin, the fact he always had the shades covering his eyes, did make for him to look nearer probably nineteen than below it, and then of course the cigarette that was now hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth, in a completely European kind of way, made him seem that little bit older too.
“Oui,” he replied to her, as he made sure no one else was around, before sliding the shades down from his eyes to look into her face. “Mebbe, las’ nigh’ we spend wit’ one anot’er.” Which really didn’t sit too well with Remy, and if she hadn’t seemed quite so ‘strange’ he may well have considered making it a night he would never forget. Only whilst he didn’t normally turn a blind eye at taking advantage of anyone, he had no intention of doing that to his little Stormy. So even the idea of ‘if she were herself’ was a big if, because trying something on, talking and telling her how he felt, other than a best friend, big brotherly like thing, was taboo. So basically Remy was kidding himself there, but it was a good thing to keep in mind as far as he was concerned. Red trails wandering over her face, as if he was making a little red glowing map of every single contour of her features.