Gambling with Fate
Posted: Sat Jul 03, 2010 9:10 pm
Author's Note: This is a fic that Paws and I have written. There are 18 chapters and it is a Remy/Rogue pairing. We might pick up later on, but as of now, with real life getting in the way, we're having to give it an undetermined amount of time for a hiatus. I hope you enjoy what we have done. There are some naughty bits that have been edited out and there will be a note at the top of the chapters that have been edited. Please comment! They make us happy and keep us slimmer than chocolate.
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CHAPTER ONE
The humid summer heat had the girl’s hair sticking to her as she watched the people on the busy street from her perch in a small alley in between two shops. She brought a gloved hand up to push a strand of it carelessly off of her jaw, continuing the movement to her neck, scooping the sticky wet mass off her skin and pulling it all up in a loose ponytail. She had been in New Orleans for a few days now; living mainly off of the money she was able to pickpocket. It wasn’t her favorite past time, but it was a living; and living sounded so much better to her than starving. A rare breeze blew past her and she turned her face to it, smiling softly. The breeze slowed and finally died, pulling a strand of her silver hair across her face. She grimaced and tucked it back behind her ear as she continued to watch the people.
It had been fairly easy to fit in here with no questions - after all, weirdness abounds in a town like this. A scowl covered her face in an ugly expression, not suiting her soft features at all - even if she did happen to like it here, the reason she was here - for a time at least - was enough to make her sick. The nerve of that woman! Wanting to use her just for her powers, just like she was using all those other teenagers for their powers! And obviously, they had no pride at all, because they let her do it. They were willing. Well, she wasn’t. Not in the slightest. So, she ran. Again. So far, that insane woman hadn’t come this way, and that was just fine by her.
She peered back out along the street, noticing that dusk was falling along the river. It was easier to snatch and run that way; easier to keep hidden. Her emerald eyes searched the groups of people, checking off people as prospective targets. She grinned as she saw a man lean against a light post, marking him as the target she was after. She slid out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk to lean against the side of the building, nonchalantly. His back was to her and she watched his movements carefully for a few moments, trying to find the perfect time to strike.
He turned his head to the side, casually, watching a woman walk by. As soon as she saw this, she sank to a crouch by the wall, pretending to tie her shoe. Looking up at him through some of her hair that had fallen loose, she saw he was wearing sunglasses. Great. That always made it a bit difficult; could never tell where the eyes were going. His attention was pulled back to the front of him by something - or someone - she couldn’t see around him; and, truth be told, she didn’t much care. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out. She readied herself, muscles tense, knowing the second he lit it would be the perfect time, since he would be the most distracted. She watched his moves more deliberately now, like a tiger on the hunt, waiting for the prey to be in the optimal position. The cigarette disappeared from his hand, the pack was pushed back in his pocket, and she was moving the instant she saw his hands start to move back to his face.
Keeping his hands up a moment longer than strictly necessary, he protected the flame lighting his cigarette from a non-existent breeze. He waited patiently for the slight brush of the fingers, twisting the moment he felt them delicate as a wing touch to his back pocket, his hand striking out like a snake to trap one of her wrists. Dragging her close like she was someone he was well familiar with he kept his hold on her wrist, resting it against his chest as his thumb dug into a pressure point in warning for her to keep still. His free arm he wrapped around her waist, hand resting on her lower back, tips of his fingers just meeting the waistband.
The crowds continued to push on around them, ignoring the couple in their midst, eyes locked on each other as they greeted one another. A smile slid onto his face as he took in her wide green eyes, lush lower lip open just slightly. He'd caught her totally unaware - of that he had no doubt. She hid most of her shock fairly well, considering.
She froze in his grasp, knowing all too well that his fingers were too close to her skin. She didn’t blink as she watched his face, though. Drawing a crowd would not be a pleasant thing, as it would most likely force her to have to leave this town also. She debated on a few different things she could do to make him let go of her, immediately crossing off the one most dangerous for her: kissing him. Her free arm at her side came up slowly under his arm to rest her open palm at his collarbone, fingers gently caressing his shirt, hoping to distract him before making her next move.
Her full lower lip caught in between her teeth and she pressed closer to him just as slowly as her hand had come up. She didn’t want to alert him to anything - and normally the slower you moved with someone who could harm you, the less likely they were to think you would try to harm them. But when it came to this girl, most of the time they were sadly mistaken. Her leg quickly shifted in between his and rose swiftly up, aiming for his crotch.
A slight flicker of interest had passed through him as she pressed close to him, but his face maintained its pleasant neutrality. He would be laughed out of his father’s house though if he didn't see the slight shift of her body, the flicker in her eyes that belayed her next move. A pretty face she had, for sure, but he was well familiar with another that would have had his guts on his toes by now if he'd pulled this with her. So he’d kept his guard up and when she brought her leg up sharply he neatly sidestepped it and pushed her back a slight bit so that she was off balance, having to rely on him for balance or let go to fall. He tsked slightly. "Now chére, attemptin’ robbery an' den assault? Y're workin' up quite d' record here."
A snarl came to her lips as she clutched at his shirt, resisting the urge to fly. She didn’t want anyone to know she had any powers at all. Even with the variety of people in this city, she doubted they were all friendly towards her kind. She regained her footing and let go of his shirt roughly. He still had her wrist though - which normally would not cause a problem for her, but she wanted him to think he still had the upper hand. “Swamp rat.” She spit on his feet and feigned trying to pull away from him, only to have his grip grow a bit tighter. Some people were starting to stare so she reluctantly took a step towards him, nearly closing the gap again.
Laughing, he tapped her nerve just a bit harder in warning, watching as she paled and let out a small gasp. "Y're pretty feisty for a little t'ief." He gave her a long look, taking in her thin face and threadbare clothes - the small smear of dirt on one cheek, though she was relatively clean. "Y're not from around here, neh?"
The girl clamped her jaw shut and just stared at him. He didn’t need to know anything about her; he was her target - ’was’ being the key word. She had to figure out a way to get away from him without drawing attention to the situation or to her. All she wanted was a bit of money to buy something to eat, and he wasn’t going to be the person to get it from obviously, so she needed to move on to someone else. She didn’t fight against him though, hoping that maybe if she just relented to his grip, he’d let her go and she could go back to picking her next mark. It wasn't like she was complaining about staring at him for however long he decided to hold her there though, what she could see of his face was rather nice to look at.
His brow went up, mouth quirking to one side. "What? Cat got y're tongue? Or y' just learned t' mind y're manners?" He let her arm drop but kept his hand on her point, starting to walk with the crowd so they wouldn't attract attention. "So...no point in askin' y' d' same question twice...seemin' as I already know y're answer anyways. If y're accent didn't give y' away bad enough, y're know-how of N'awleans isn't enough t' feed a flea on." He gave her a wry glance. "Or y' I'd expect. So what are y'? Runaway?"
A frown spread across her face as he started leading her through the crowd. Out of reflex, she pulled her shoulders up close to her, trying to keep away from any accidental touching, even if she was fully clothed. Her heart rate sped up from not knowing where this stranger was taking her and from being so close to skin contact; this could not end well. Her eyes scanned the crowd warily as they moved, making sure to steer her free arm clear of people by wrapping it around her stomach. "Let go," she said, softly but firmly, her stubborn will and pride evident, "Ah'll leave ya 'lone. Won't bother y'all 'gain. Promise."
"Really?" Easing her to the edge of the busy crowd he ducked them down a side street and twisted her into the doorway of a closed shop before she could even so much as squeak in protest. He did release her then, leaning casually against the one free wall, her way blocked by him. "So...I've let y' go. Ain' meanin' y' a lick of harm, so no need to panic or have ..." He flipped his hand, grinning even wider. "...hysterics." Folding his arms across his chest he gave her a nod. "So. Y' do know somethin' of pickpocketin'. But y' have shit skills in markin' who t' steal from." He studied her a bit longer, coming to a decision. "Y' hungry?"
She gave him a disgusted look. "Do Ah strike ya as one that'd panic or have," she mimicked his hand gesture, "hysterics?" She put her arms down at her sides and looked over his shoulder, trying to find a new target already. "Thanks. 'Preciate tha compliment," her tone dripped with sarcasm and she shot him a glare as she moved to step around him. "'Scuse me. Gonna keep mah promise an' not bother y'all 'gain. Got shit ta do." Her stomach growled in protest and she winced, catching herself quickly and schooling her expression back to her standard blank face.
"Seemin' as I just met y', chére, an' d' only words y've said are t' insult me pretty much, I don’t really have much t' base it on." He stepped to block her and was met by a green glare that would suit a tiger. No lack of guts on this one, that was for sure. "Ah, butcha already bothered me. Now, as I see it, y' owe me somethin'. Either dat or we can go take a little wander an' see if we can find a black an' white."
Her eyes widened a bit at his words before going back into a glare worse than the last. "Ah ain't owin' ya anythin'. Ah'm gettin' outta ya hair, an' ya ain't got any proof Ah done anythin', so ain't nothin' ya could tell a cop." Her hands fisted and un-fisted multiple times as she tried to calm down. Owe him something?! Oh, she owed him something, all right. Her fist in his jaw. But that was beside the point. Even if she wanted to give him what he thought she owed him, she couldn’t. She snorted; and she most certainly did not want to! He was right though, she needed to pick better targets; this guy was a piece of work.
"We gonna keep dancin' around dis?" He made a show of looking at his watch. "I've not got any appointments t' keep myself right at dis very moment. Still, I expect dis isn't gonna be all dat entertainin'. An' I am a man who likes his entertainment." He drawled the last few words out, smirking. "Of course, if y' do go with me y'll get a meal out of it an' y' can go on y're own way after just fine. Y' were lookin' for a meal outta me anyways. D' only difference dis way is y'll be havin' it with me as well as on me."
Shrugging he turned to walk away. "Of course, y' can go an' pick someone else's pocket. An' hope it ain't someone worse." He took a few steps and looked over his shoulder. "Oh...an' y'll want t' watch for Fagan an' his bunch. Dey don' like people on dere turf." He nodded to the cracked pavement at her feet. "An' y're standin' on it."
Her arms crossed under her chest, her emerald eyes narrowed at him. Her stubborn pride was telling her to stay put, but her stomach was about ready to cave in on itself if it didn't get something in it soon. She mentally weighed her options, either she could go have a meal with him or pick pocket someone else - which would prolong her getting food. Pride be damned, she was hungry. "Don't know who Fagan is. Don't much care. Could take him." She started walking and went past him, throwing him a look over her shoulder. "Y'all comin'?" A smirk crossed her face after she turned around and started walking again. One meal with this man wouldn't hurt her any, in fact, it would probably be better than she'd had in a long time.
With her back to him, he didn't bother suppressing the look of satisfaction of having won that small battle of wills. She was flouncing ahead at a fairly good place, so he hurried to catch up. "I take it y're pickin' den? An' y've got it wrong, chére. Ain't Fagan himself y' got t' worry about so much - he might actually try an' find a place for y'."
He eyed the view afforded. More than likely he'd have different areas of employment than thieving for this one. Fagan had boys so innocent looking, light fingered and experienced they'd bring in more in an hour than this girl could in a day. "More d' rest of dem. D' mob. Dey don' like competition, an' dey don't like splittin' d' spoils at all."
"Could take 'em. Ain't worried 'bout it." She slowed her stride and fell into step next to him, looking straight ahead, not willing to look at him. A small gust of wind blew by them and she huffed when she had to tuck her silver hair back behind her ear. "An' Ah don't care if ya want 'payment' f' tha food. Ain't 'bout ta give it ta ya. So, if that's ya plan, just tell me now an' Ah'll deck ya one an' walk away."
"Girl y' weigh all of what? Hundred an' twenty? If dat even soakin' wet right about now. Y're nothin' but skin an' bones. It's amazin' y' don't rattle." Still, she looked nice enough, hips swaying with sass. She toyed with that silver dyed hair of hers. Probably thought it made her look older. Very pretty though, despite all that, if she kept her mouth closed long enough. "Y' implyin' some improper behavior on my part dere?" He inquired in a teasing tone. "In d' way you use dat word. ‘Paymahnt’,” he repeated, over accentuating her southern mud drawl.
"An' what if Ah do?" She turned her head to him, eyes blazing with anger, "Ya think Ah couldn't hold mah own just 'cause Ah'm not a big gal? Is that it? Well, lemme tell y'all somethin', Swamp rat, y'all don't ever wanna get in a real honest ta goodness fight with me. Y'all'll be sorely mistaken 'bout ya assumption." She grit her teeth as she turned to watch where she was going again. "Y'all are tha one said Ah owed ya. Ah ain't implyin' nothin' 'sides what ya already done yaself." She crossed her arms again and let her voice get slightly softer, "Where we goin' anyhow?"
"Oh I know girls about your size that could give me a new smile." He flicked a finger across his throat in demonstration. "You aren't one of dem though." Sass she had, but no brains. Or not brains precisely – just no knowledge. And that was often fatal. A lot of older runaways were like this. Thought they had it so rough at home, so lit out to try life on their own; spending their time groping blindly about until real life gave them the spanking they so richly needed. Then they'd go ki-yayin' home. This one though? She'd been out on the street a while, that was for certain - long enough to get this skinny.
He'd rather not have a pissed off alley cat for a dining companion so he held a hand out in consolation, words gliding smooth off his tongue, not matching his train of thought. "Meant dinner only. Jus' a friendly meal. Nothin' else. Nothin' too touristy or fancy so y' stick out.” He nodded across the way. "An' y' can't beat d' cookin' from dere no ways." Leading the way across the street he held the door to the diner open. "Aprés vous, mademoiselle."
Slowly, she lowered her arms from under her chest and walked through the door, reaching back to hold it open for him out of habit. "Thanks," she was shocked to find she meant it, even if he was still a jerk. He didn't know anything about her, it was rude of him to jump to the conclusion that she couldn't do him harm. She refused to look up to where normally she would meet his eyes; if he hadn't been wearing his sunglasses. Taking a look around the small diner, she smiled a bit; it looked really nice and homey. More than that, it was comfortable. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything near comfortable, and it was nice.
"Not a problem." She slid into a booth and he took the bench opposite, watching as she fiddled with the menu of specials that was in a cheap cracked plastic holder on the table. "How long y' been in town?" Easing himself back he relaxed outwardly without letting his guard down, as always scanning the crowd in the diner behind his glasses, completely aware of how many people were there and where they were. It was a matter of habit now - and one that you needed to have if you wanted to stay alive. Well...for him and a select few at least. Regular folk didn’t much have to bother with it he supposed. Things were currently fairly complicated, but then he was supposed to help 'un-complicate' things, wasn't he? His doubts in the matter didn't mean a thing - the rituals and prophecies that wound through the guild structure like veins through a body had spoken very clearly of him. And that was enough for all of them. It had to be enough for him as well, he thought with a wry snort.
"Don't see why that should matter." She chewed on her lower lip and let her eyes scan over the specials again before searching the restaurant for any potential danger. At any moment, that woman could find her; and that woman could look like anyone. That was what worried her the most, she might never realize until it was too late. "How long y'all been feedin' pickpockets?" She set the menu down on the table and pulled her hands to her lap, picking at the seam of one of her gloves.
Watching as she fidgeted he shrugged. "Just makin' chit chat. Y' don't have t' get worked up over every question I ask y'." The harried middle aged waitress came bustling up to their table with a couple of menus. He waved her off with a request for a couple of sweet teas, not bothering to check if that's what the girl wanted. She was southern. It'd do.
"An' I suppose y' could say I've been doin' it on an' off for a while. Depends on how y' judge it." He studied her for a while, taking in her rag tag appearance with a practiced eye. "Y're about my age, oui? Maybe a titch younger. Y' take good care of y'rself an' y' don't have sores or things, so I'm guessin' y' ain't on drugs or drinkin'. Y're way too covered up t' be tryin' t' attract any eyes t' ply another trade.” He cocked his head at her. "An' y' don't quite suck at it, but y' ain't a practiced pick pocket. So dat says t' me y' been doin' it a while, but not y're whole life. So why y' here den, chére?"
Bristling inwardly at his casual mocking assessment of her she arched an annoyed eyebrow. "Sorry, but that don't seem like just chit-chat ta me." She reached up and took her hair out of its ponytail, pulling the elastic back around her wrist as the other hand fluffed her hair out. "Ah'm seventeen." It couldn't hurt to tell him at least that could it? He was trying to be friendly; the least she could do was not be a complete bitch, even if she was still irritated. "Won't touch drugs or anythin' like that an' no one touches me," she looked at his face then with a hard stare.
After a moment, her emerald eyes rolled upward and she shook her head slightly, "Been at it f' a few years. How do ya know so much 'bout that, anyhow? Got stuff ya can teach me?" Her eyebrows went up in mocking question as she watched him.
"Oh I could teach you more than a few things." He gave her a wide assed grin, more than a hint of exactly what he was implying he could teach her in it. "But think dat'd be against y're rules. An' at seventeen, y're nearly home free - social services should leave y' alone pretty much unless y' make y'reself a target. Y're parents can't do shit in another year if y' keep y're head down. So I think y'll do jus' fine if y' can keep y're ass outta trouble." Shaking his head he spread his hands out. "As far as teachin' y'...well, I don' think y've seen a place like N'awleans. It's a bit different here. Dis city has a lotta layers under all d' beads an' partyin' y' see on d' surface." A faint line appeared on his brow as he thought about what to tell her. "I tell y' what I can do. Maybe I can put a word in wit' Fagan t' tell his lot t' leave y' alone. In d' big picture of things y're jus' scratchin' up a few crumbs. Won't really affect dem dat much."
After a moment, he leaned forward on his elbows. "Of course, y' could jus' go honest, an' get a job at a place like dis. Settle down in a place. Y' jus' have t' give any diner or hotel manager a sad look from dem big green eyes of y'rs an' dey'll give y' a chance."
Her nostrils flared slightly at the mention of her parents and she averted her eyes back to the specials menu. "Been doin' just fine 'till Ah made tha mistake of markin' y'all. Don't need ya charity - can deal with Fagan's bunch just fine on mah own if Ah should run inta 'em." The waitress came back and set down their teas; the girl gave her a sweet smile, "Thanks, sugah." The smile disappeared before she turned back to the man in front of her. "Don't tend ta stay in one place f' too long. Ain't no need ta settle down."
Ah, so some sort of trouble then rather than just a dissatisfied teen, if she was still running. Probably involving with her folks the way she reacted, gone all tense at mention of them. Figuring he'd go for a change of topic, rather than prod her any further, he picked his glass up and drank long from it, making a big production out of scanning the menu. For one, it didn't really make a difference; she'd do what she would, and she wasn't his problem. Just a pretty face that caught his eye for a moment.
Setting his own menu down he pulled hers away from her, stacking it neatly at the edge of the table for the waitress to retrieve. "Y' don't wanna eat some crap like a burger or a salad. Dis is N'awleans. If y're a drifter, y' might as well enjoy it while y' can." The waitress chose that moment to come up, collecting the menus. He ordered for the two of them, making sure to include a number of the touristy 'must do's' as far as food items. Of course, they also happened to be things he enjoyed, but then he never claimed to be a philanthropist.
She waited till they were alone again before leaning towards him in irritation. "Ya keep orderin' f' me like Ah'm some brainless bimbo. Stop it. Ah do just fine on mah own." She crossed her arms under her chest again and fixed him with a glare that wasn't any different from the others she had given him. Crossing her legs under the table she 'accidentally' stretched her leg over a bit too far so the toe of her shoe connected solidly with his shin."Oops."
He gave her an amused smirk. "Y' know, y're pretty pissy for someone who jus' tried t' rob me, knee me in d' balls and in return got a free meal outta d' whole deal. Y're momma not teach y' anythin' about manners?" He returned to his iced tea and took another swallow, ice clinking merrily in the well etched glass. Damn but it was hot and sticky today. Like most days, really, but it still meant that a cold drink felt great going down.
"Mama taught me not ta talk ta strangers, too, an' look where that's got me." She watched him take another drink and looked down at her own glass still on the table. She picked it up and took a small sip, licking her lips afterward. It took a lot of self control to not down the entire glass. Her throat was dry and the small sip she took only teased it, so she took another sip. It also took a lot of self control to not let him see how good it felt to get something cool and sweet on her tongue. "Y'all didn't have ta buy me food. Was ya own choice."
He sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, it was my decision. An' no, y' didn't ask. Wasn't expectin' y' t' lick my boots, chére. Just not beat on me." She took another of those tentative sips of the drink like a child nibbling carefully at a sweet to make it last longer. "Y’ can have whatever y' want though. Just try what I ordered. If y' don't like it y' can have anythin' on d' menu - but think of me a little like a tour guide. Y' might as well try somethin' different, oui? Never know what y'll like." He wheeled.
"Didn't say Ah wouldn't eat it. Just said ta stop treatin' me like a brainless bimbo. Coulda just as easily suggested it ta me an' asked me if Ah'd like ta have it. 'Sides, ya never know if a girl could be allergic ta somethin'!" She ran a gloved finger down her glass, creating a line through the condensation. "Glad ya didn't expect me ta lick ya boots. Never know who's shit ya coulda stepped in," she grinned a bit, but kept her eyes on her tea glass.
A surprised laugh came from him and he shook his head again. "Y're full of sass girl. That's for sure. As far as bimbo's dey show a lot more dan y' do.” He drew a line on his own chest, marking a low cut cleavage. “So I wouldn't worry about anyone expectin' y' t' be one." He couldn’t help the slight frown at her assessment of his background - she wasn't that far off the mark really either, depending how you looked at it. He'd been wading through unsavory and often highly illegal things his whole life. Still, she demanded his respect with the authority of a woman of worth rather than the rag tag urchin she was. Mouth quirking once more, he gave her a deep nod. "My apologies mademoiselle."
She couldn't help the smirk at his laugh, it was a nice rich sound and it was nearly contagious. She looked up to him and tried hard to pull the smirk back in, angry with herself that it took a moment to do so. "Apology accepted, Swamp Rat." She tilted her head to the side then frowned and looked around the diner again, trying to figure out something that had been puzzling her - it wasn't bright in there. "Why don't ya take off ya sunglasses?"
"What? An' ruin my image?" He struck a casual pose. "Why don' y' take off y're gloves? Can't say I've seen people walk around wit' dem, expecially in dis heat, unless dere goin' t' a weddin' or whatnot." Or working a job - but then, that was generally leather - not worn fabric ones she had on. It was like how she wore sleeves down to her wrists and long pants. Maybe she had some sort of odd skin condition that she kept hidden, or scars.
His eyes hooded slightly in thought. Scars would maybe explain why she ran. She seemed very bent on people not touching her. Wouldn't be the first girl on the streets running cause they'd been raped or abused. Sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Pulling a deck of cards out of his pocket, he started to shuffle them. "Y' wanna play a game before d' food comes?"
She laughed a bit at his pose then bit her lower lip roughly to get herself to stop. Frowning at his question about her gloves, she fiddled with her glass again, not wanting to answer him directly since Mystique could be lurking around any corner. If he knew anything about her, he could use it against her if that woman ever found him. "Touché." One of her eyebrows arched as she watched him shuffle the cards. "What kind of game, an' what are tha stakes? Ah ain't got any money ta bet, obviously."
One thing was for sure - she was pretty when she smiled, however obviously reluctant to do so. There were some definite walls around this one. Not as high as others – say him for starters. The difference was mainly in how they dealt with things. She snapped and glared while he just smiled and smoothly evaded. Probably some similar issues between them though for all that.
"Don't have t' be for money." He grabbed a few sugar packets, the pink and white paper crinkling between his fingers, placing half on her side of the table and the remaining half on his. "Y' know poker, right?" He flicked his thumb along the stiff new card, enjoying the familiar and reassuring feel of it in his hands.
"'Course Ah know poker. Was taught how ta play when Ah was little." She scooped the sugar packets into a small pile and watched him toy with the card. "Ok, then, Dealer, what’re tha rules of tha game? Any wilds?" She took another sip of her tea and watched him tentatively over the rim of the glass. "Ya a gamblin' man, then? Carry cards with ya everywhere in tha chance ya might run inta someone willin' ta bet somethin'?"
"Nah. Only really play for fun. And figure straight up keeps things simple." He shuffled the deck with only a slight bit of flare - he couldn't resist the urge to show off just a bit, but didn't need to make an ass out of himself by overdoing it. "Let's just say d' cards treat me well." He returned the smile with a full grin of his own. Catching the harried waitress’s attention again he asked for a full jug of sweet tea so that the girl wouldn't feel the need to horde her glassful. He knew what it felt like to do without. She could at least have one meal without worrying about making the little bit she had last.
The girl tucked her hair behind her ear as she watched him work the cards, not letting her interest show on her face. “Quite practiced at that.” She looked up at the waitress then back to him with a confused frown, but didn’t say anything about it. She wouldn’t refuse more tea. “Tell me, Swamp Rat, why tha hell do ya care if Ah got any food or not? Ya coulda just let me go an’ walked away. Ya already know Ah ain’t gonna repay ya f’ this, so there’s nothin’ in it f’ y’all.”
"Get t' spend time with a pretty lady. Dere’s lotsa men that do dat with no further promises, neh? Pay for a meal just for the pleasure of a ladies company?" Dealing the cards with quick efficient flicks of his fingers he raised one brow over the edge of his dark glasses. "Guess y' could kinda call dis a 'date'.”
The girl fixed him with a blank stare at that, "Don't flatter yaself. Ya head might explode if it gets any bigger." She carefully scooped up her cards and looked them over, making sure to keep her blank face on as she looked at them, seeing if she wanted to trade any. "No, lotsa men don’t do that. Lotsa men have angles or ulterior motives." She looked at him over her cards, "An' Ah'd rather not think of this as a date. Prefer mah first date ta not be with a Swamp Rat who feels sorry f' me, thanks." She grimaced as soon as she had said it, but couldn't take it back now. She was getting too comfortable here, her guard was slipping.
Eyes jerking up from studying his own cards he gave her an incredulous look. "First date? Y' must be pullin' my leg. A pretty thing like y' - even down on y're luck like y' are - has had t' have boys pantin' after y'." Tapping the deck with a finger he lowered his cards a bit. "An' can't say dat I don't have ulterior motives at times...but after dis, don't expect t' see y' again. Y're free t' go on y're way.” Going back to his hand he tapped the deck between the two of them “Y' want any cards?"
"Didn't say Ah didn't have boys pantin' after me. Said Ah'd never had a date before..." She swallowed hard and lay down two cards. "Two. F'get Ah said anythin'. Ain't important anyhow." Her mind shifted back to her first kiss and she shifted in her seat some, switching her legs that were crossed. She slid the two cards he laid in front of her into her palm, pulling them up to the fan of cards in her other hand. Not a bad hand - could be worse.
He passed them over and just took a single one himself, waiting for her to make her bet. "So...y' not d' datin' type den? Not one for romance?" She may have warned him off the topic, but he was curious now. And no one had ever claimed him overly smart about these sorts of things. It was fun, he realized, sitting and making idle chatter with this girl, even if he didn't expect he'd get anything beyond a biting comeback. Life on the streets hadn't beaten her down and he found it refreshing somehow, perhaps in the promise that it offered for the lucky few to escape the horrors that lurked in wait for the majority.
She arched an eyebrow at him and threw two sugar packets to the center of the table. “Y’all don’t get ta ask me ‘bout mah romantic life. That’s just rude. Didn’t y’all’s mama teach ya better than that? Ain’t polite ta ask ‘bout somethin’ so personal when ya don’t even know a gal’s name.” She looked back at her cards, “An’, no, Ah ain’t gonna tell ya, don’t bother askin’.” Her mouth curled into a small smirk as she picked up her tea and took another sip.
"I don't got one, so actually, no." He matched her two sugar packets, surprised at his admission. Normally he didn't talk about his motherless status...or about anything to do with his background at all. It felt odd realizing he'd told her just as casual as that. "But y’ have a good point. Should at least exchange names if I’m goin’ t’ be courteous. I can go first if y' want…I’m known as Remy LeBeau when I ain’t bein’ called other names." He held his free hand out across the table.
She felt herself flush some, feeling slightly embarrassed about her crack on his mother, "Oh. Sorry, sugah." Looking over her cards, she decided she wanted to raise him. Picking up three sugar packets, she paused when she realized she'd just used her standard term of affection for him. Screwing up her face she looked at his hand for a moment, then back up at his face. She tossed the packets to the center and carefully took the offered hand. "Other names like ‘Swamp Rat’? ‘Cause that’s what Ah’m gonna stick ta callin’ ya." She didn't bother telling him her name, not caring if it wasn’t what he expected. She had already told him not to ask.
He gently twisted her hand within his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. "So...I should call y' ‘sugar’ den? Sweet enough for y’. Suits." He went back to his cards and after a moment of reflection tossed in four packets. "Ah, dem cute little pet names. Swamp rat ain't d' worst I've been called t' be sure."
Resisting the urge to smile at the small gentlemanly gesture, she pulled her hand away and sneered at him. "No, don't call me sugah. ‘Suits.' Ha, yeah right. Ah ain't been nothin' but snarky; 'sugah' don't suit at all." She roughly tossed in her packets without even looking at her cards. "An' Swamp Rat ain't a pet name." She looked over her cards again and nodded about her raise of his packets.
“Not yet.” He muttered under his breath, before speaking loud enough for his voice to carry to her. "So what do y' propose I call y' den? An' y' are sweet - just with a big dose of spice.” Grin returning full bore, he smirked. “An' I like my food spicy." He laid his cards down on the table. She was fun to rib. The pink in her cheeks and the flame in her eyes was a reaction he was beginning to enjoy eliciting.
"Well, Ah ain't ya food, so it shouldn't matter." She shrugged and picked up her tea again. "Why should ya have ta call me anythin'? Ya ain't never gonna see me 'gain soon as Ah walk out tha door of this place, remember?" The girl took a longer drink than she had before and set the glass down as she let out a barely audible sigh.
"Fair enough. I'll just call y' 'hey you' for d' rest of dis meal." With impeccable timing the waitress descended upon them, bearing her burden of plates. He'd ordered a lot of partial orders so that ‘hey you’ or whoever she was could sample a fair amount of things. "Time t' dig in then.” He picked a shrimp out of the jambalaya and popped it in his mouth.
She shrugged one shoulder at his response then her attention was pulled to the food. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, trying to decide which to taste first. "Well, ya seem ta be callin' me 'chére' often enough. So why not just stick with that?" She picked up her spoon and took a bite of the gumbo first, letting her eyes close when she got it in her mouth, not burning her despite the obvious heat of the dish. She swallowed and opened her eyes to look at him. "Thanks f' this..." Obviously the last shred of dignity she held on to had gone down her throat with the gumbo.
"Y're welcome." He returned simply; knowing what it cost her. It was hard to accept help. He had pride aplenty too. "We'll get dessert too...but eat on up. We can box up any leftovers for y' if y' want." He ate in silence for a minute, watching her unobtrusively as she worked her way through the food, quickly at first before slowing down to enjoy the meal once the worst of her hunger was blunted.
"Ah don't..." She took another bite and swallowed before speaking again. "Ah don't wanna put ya out any." The food was so delicious and she wouldn't say no to more of it, if he really wanted to. She put her cards face up on the table, not caring about the game anymore. She started to move another bite to her mouth and stopped, not able to hide a slight blush and laughed softly. "Ah must look like a right pig. Sorry."
"Hard t' not shovel it in when y're belly is pinched dat much. Don't worry about table manners with me. I'm a teen-aged boy - since when do we have a sense of decorum?" He took a large mouthful himself in illustration, chewing and swallowing. "An' after all, it ain't a proper dinner without dessert."
She laughed a bit at his demonstration, relaxing some into the seat. "Too bad Ah cain't pickpocket people like y'all every day." She stabbed a shrimp and tore into half of it playfully, not realizing that she had gotten more comfortable by the minute with this Remy person. "It's Rogue, by tha way." She finished off the shrimp and poured herself some more tea, holding the pitcher over his glass in question.
He smiled at her small confession, nodding to her unspoken question about more tea. "Just Rogue? Like 'Cher' or 'Pink'?" He speared a bit of spicy sausage. "And see? I ain't dat bad. Maybe a bit annoyin' at times, but generally worth y're time."
She poured the tea and set it down on the side of the table. "Jus' Rogue. Oui," she mocked his accent and stuck her tongue out at him. "Ah can be annoyin', too. An' not generally worth ya time." Rogue speared a bit of the same sausage he had and fought a grin. He really was turning out to be a nice guy and it was odd that he'd been able to poke a hole in her wall without even trying.
Laughing again he put his fork down, content to sit and watch her eat for a while, sipping his tea. "Well, y' appear t' be worth at least a couple of hours of my time, neh?" He got a little more serious and leaned forward. "Look, Rogue - I don' know where y're from and what d' rules are dere...but here, things are different. N'awleans is a tough city. Pretty, but hard as nails underneath. I appreciate y've been on y're own for a while an' y've been able t' watch y'rself up t' dis point.” He shrugged. “It's different here though. Different streets - different rules. Y' need t' keep dat in mind an' keep y're eyes open."
"Ah know that,” she shot back defensively, “Ah've been here f' nearly a week, an' Ah've been on mah own f' nearly five years. Ah can handle mahself." She took a gulp of her tea, not understanding why she told him about her past so openly. It wasn't really a secret, but she had made a promise to herself not to tell him anything about her. As it was now, he knew more things than she wanted him to. Her alias; her age; how long she'd been on the run. She bit her lip and took another bite of the food to prevent herself from saying anything more.
He filed away the little things she let slip, knowing that he’d get nothing easy from her as he wiped his hands on the cheap paper napkin. He'd done the best he could do to warn her, and he just had to leave it at that. There were so many that came to this city...and so many born in it that suffered varied fates that went unnoticed by the majority of the populace. If he worried on the people who scraped what they could off of the streets he'd be grey by now. "Y' ready for some dessert? Can have her box up what's left."
"Ah'm sure Ah can find some room somewhere ta fit tha dessert in... Ah really do 'preciate this." She looked at the table at all of the leftover food, "An' Ah wouldn't say no ta takin' this with me." Rogue leaned over to peer at her cards that lay nearly forgotten. "What hand did y'all have?"
For a homeless kid, she somehow still had a certain innocent bloom to her that showed only rarely through chinks of her armor – like the honest smile that had filled her face when he’d mentioned ‘dessert’. "Full house. Kings high." He gave her a cocky smile. "An' as I said – dessert or anythin’ else y’ want is y'rs, with my compliments. Y' gonna choose what y’ want dis time, since I was ‘makin' y' out t' be a twit’ by orderin' for d' two of us before?"
She made a face when he said his hand, looking over hers again. "Damn. Ah only had a pair of aces." Rogue scooped the cards up and handed them over to him. "Thinkin' some chocolate cake or maybe some peach cobbler..." Her mouth was watering at all of the desserts she wanted. "Thanks f’ lettin’ me choose this time."
He stuck them quickly in his pack, returning them in the pocket where they sat reassuringly with solid familiarity. Poking at the menu he looked at her carefully. "Now...don't make it like I'm tryin' t' tell y' what t' do again, but y' know y' can get dat anywhere, oui?" Her eyes flashed up to meet his again and he gave her a cheeky grin.
Rogue playfully rolled her eyes and gave an over-exaggerated sigh, “Alright, Cajun. What is it? What is gonna be so wonderful that Ah gotta have it?” She looked back at his face and for some reason desperately wanted to see what his eyes looked like, but she wasn’t going to push the issue; especially since he might return the favor about her gloves and that could result in harm to him. She may have wanted to hurt him earlier, but now? Now was different, even if she still didn’t understand why. He’s a charmer, nothin’ more. Don’t let him get under ya skin, gal.
"If y're gonna be in N'awleans only for a bit, I'm gonna count y' as a tourist. So y' gotta try d' banana's foster. Though if y're really stuck on dat chocolate cake, get dat too. Dey make it from scratch here and it's damn good." She'd lost a bit of her snappish way of saying things, he was pleased to see. Not that he had any intentions of tumbling this one – after all he had to be at work in a little better than an hour. But it may have been interesting to try, street kid or no. There was a certain edge to her that begged to be smoothed.
“Banana’s foster?” Rogue sat up a bit straighter in her booth. “An’, that’s alright. Don’t wanna gorge mahself, ya know?” She gave him a small grin and picked at the paper napkin in her lap, rebuilding the piece of her wall that he had broken through. It was dangerous and stupid to have let him do that. She knew she needed to carefully think through her thoughts before she let them spill out of her mouth, especially the ones forced out by her strong sense of pride. However, she didn’t want to go back to being rude either, not after he’d bought this meal for her. Rogue cleared her throat and looked back up. “So… How old are y’all, then?” Small talk was good. Small talk was safe.
"Oui – it’s banana’s heated up in sugar an' rum basically. Very sweet, but very good. Y' won't forget it, I'll tell y' dat much." As the waitress cleared the plates to box them, he traced his fingers around one small stain left behind by the pitcher of iced tea, never quite putting his finger in it, always skirting it delicately. A bit of silence drug out between her question and his response before he finally looked up at her. "Seventeen. Nearly eighteen; so a year older an' wiser dan y'." He finally replied, turning it into a tease before his voice sobered. "So y'll remember what I said about the streets?"
“The dessert sounds good,” she said very plainly, trying not to show that she was excited about getting something so sweet. Rogue watched him as he carefully traced the ring left behind by the pitcher, wondering why he would take so long to answer her. Meeting his eyes, or where she suspected they would be, she arched an eyebrow at his playful tone. “Huh. Sure ya are. Age ain’t got nothin’ ta do with wisdom, Swamp Rat. Why’d it take ya so long ta answer me?” Purposefully asking him another question, avoiding the one he had asked her. Besides, she was curious; he didn’t have any problems asking her questions and expecting answers, why would he take so long to answer one of hers? He’d completely avoided her question about his sunglasses, as well. Blew it off as some joke. He’d at least given her an answer on his age, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it seemed to have some deeper meaning in it.
"Jus' got lost in thought for a second is all. Why? Y' think I've got somethin' nefarious about answerin’ that I’m seventeen?" His poppa has always said that it was best to hide behind the truth. He’d noticed that she evaded answering him yet again in the mutual verbal spar that they seemed to be locked in. It was doubtful he'd be able to drag much more out of her as far as promises or things went about being careful – she seemed to think she was bomb proof.
Besides which...what was she to him other than any of the others? He charmed them, spent an enjoyable night and then left after wishing them well. He wasn't spending any time sleepless over the present circumstances of any of the girls he’d slept with in the past – and he’d done considerably less with her – so no sense to think this would be any different.
Leant back in the seat, relaxed and calm, he smiled at the two dishes of ice cream and the sweet liquor filled dessert that was placed in front of them. "Enjoy it chére. Dis flavor’ll stick in y're mouth for a while. Guarantee y'll remember dis food longer dan y' will me."
She looked down as the dessert was placed in front of her and she barely resisted the urge to lick her lips before thanking the waitress again. Frowning as a thought crossed her mind she looked at him suspiciously. “Y’all didn’t order this yet. ‘Less ya ordered it with tha main food.” Rogue crossed her arms under her chest and arched an irritated eyebrow, waiting for his answer for this one. “An’ Ah got a damned good memory. Ain’t likely ta f’get things.” Just likely ta jumble ‘em up with other people’s memories, she added silently.
"Let's just say dey know me pretty well in here." He cocked his head at her. "Unless dis is a problem. Still can get dat cake easy as snappin' my fingers." The point was moot as she'd already started to dig into hers and had closed her eyes in bliss, which had pretty much answered that question. Dieu, but the way she looked was giving him ideas of her screwing her face up in pleasure at other things he could offer her. He gave Henri and his need for punctuality a faint mental curse, even if it was probably for the best. This girl was way too interested in pursuing trains of thought rather than just letting it wash away in the tide of pleasant conversation…or other pursuits.
Rogue finally let herself lick her lips, only to get some ice cream off of them, not to show how much she was enjoying it. Right? Of course that was right, hadn’t there been ice cream on her lip? Sure there had been… Looking up at him, she felt her cheeks flush slightly when she noticed that he had been watching her intently, barely touching his own dessert. Swallowing a spoonful, she shoved the blush down and mimicked his cocking of the head. “Come here often then, Swamp Rat? Shouldn’ta told me that.” She grinned, “Now Ah know where ta find ya if Ah’m growin’ a bit too hungry.” The sad truth was she would make a point of avoiding this place now; she couldn’t get used to the charity he was showing her.
She took another bite and turned the spoon over in her mouth, pulling it out slowly so she got every drop of the taste, closing her eyes again. Damn, but that was good. She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him for ordering this small piece of heaven.
His eyes remained glued to the spoon, his own keeping company with the ice cream melting in the bowl. His lips quirked to the side and he shook his head. "I wouldn't be bettin' on dat. But if y' get into trouble...den yeah. Y’ can leave a message here and dey'll find a way t' get a hold of me." Again, why had he done that? He wasn't unaccustomed to giving small random acts of kindness like he'd done for this girl - though normally he didn’t engage with them like he had her. And it wasn’t completely unrewarded at that - watching her suck on that spoon was near payment enough for it. He simply chose to keep his life very removed from others. It was better that way – hell who could explain his ‘powers’ never mind the guilds.
She smirked at him as she went to take another scoop, noticing it was nearly gone. “Thanks, ‘preciate it, but Ah probably won’t, ta be honest. Ain’t one ta ask f’ help.” She took the bite and gestured at the bowl with her spoon as she was swallowing, “An’ this? This is one of tha best things Ah’ve ever put on mah tongue. So, Ah thank ya, Swamp Rat, f’ a lil taste of true N’awleans culture.” Resisting the urge to lick her bowl, she scooped up the last of the melted goo and swallowed it as she dropped her spoon in the now empty bowl. “Ah should get goin’. Thanks ‘gain.” She put her napkin on the table and stood, taking the boxes from the waitress with a smile.
He stood and went to help her but thought better of it. She liked her individuality and he could understand that. "Thank y' for d' pleasant evenin', Rogue. Everyone should have a little taste of d' Cajun." He offered the double entendre with only a slight twitch to his lips. "Bon nuit."
“Ah’ll tell ya ‘gain: Don’t flatter yaself.” She grinned despite her words and the fact that she meant them. Mostly. “An’, it ain’t good night, Swam- Remy. This would be good bye.” She leaned over the table and took a last sip of her watered down tea, gave him a nod then headed for the door. Rogue glanced over her shoulder at him, not expecting him to be watching her, but smiled at him when she found him doing just that, finally turning to walk out, cradling the food boxes to her. Maybe she could find someone who needed this more than she did.
Looking back at his melted desert he thought better of it, as nice as it would still taste. Better to keep a fairly empty stomach, given the job that he had to do tonight. He gave her plenty of time to duck around whichever corner and disappear before tossing down a few bills, making his own way out of the diner. The moist heat surrounded him the minute he stepped out of the feebly air-conditioned place. Looking over his glasses at the shine of lights down the street from him he smiled at his beloved city. "Well ma belle. What do y' hold for Gambit tonight?"
[Edited on 7/3/2010 by Esynthia]
[Edited on 7/14/2010 by Esynthia]
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CHAPTER ONE
The humid summer heat had the girl’s hair sticking to her as she watched the people on the busy street from her perch in a small alley in between two shops. She brought a gloved hand up to push a strand of it carelessly off of her jaw, continuing the movement to her neck, scooping the sticky wet mass off her skin and pulling it all up in a loose ponytail. She had been in New Orleans for a few days now; living mainly off of the money she was able to pickpocket. It wasn’t her favorite past time, but it was a living; and living sounded so much better to her than starving. A rare breeze blew past her and she turned her face to it, smiling softly. The breeze slowed and finally died, pulling a strand of her silver hair across her face. She grimaced and tucked it back behind her ear as she continued to watch the people.
It had been fairly easy to fit in here with no questions - after all, weirdness abounds in a town like this. A scowl covered her face in an ugly expression, not suiting her soft features at all - even if she did happen to like it here, the reason she was here - for a time at least - was enough to make her sick. The nerve of that woman! Wanting to use her just for her powers, just like she was using all those other teenagers for their powers! And obviously, they had no pride at all, because they let her do it. They were willing. Well, she wasn’t. Not in the slightest. So, she ran. Again. So far, that insane woman hadn’t come this way, and that was just fine by her.
She peered back out along the street, noticing that dusk was falling along the river. It was easier to snatch and run that way; easier to keep hidden. Her emerald eyes searched the groups of people, checking off people as prospective targets. She grinned as she saw a man lean against a light post, marking him as the target she was after. She slid out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk to lean against the side of the building, nonchalantly. His back was to her and she watched his movements carefully for a few moments, trying to find the perfect time to strike.
He turned his head to the side, casually, watching a woman walk by. As soon as she saw this, she sank to a crouch by the wall, pretending to tie her shoe. Looking up at him through some of her hair that had fallen loose, she saw he was wearing sunglasses. Great. That always made it a bit difficult; could never tell where the eyes were going. His attention was pulled back to the front of him by something - or someone - she couldn’t see around him; and, truth be told, she didn’t much care. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out. She readied herself, muscles tense, knowing the second he lit it would be the perfect time, since he would be the most distracted. She watched his moves more deliberately now, like a tiger on the hunt, waiting for the prey to be in the optimal position. The cigarette disappeared from his hand, the pack was pushed back in his pocket, and she was moving the instant she saw his hands start to move back to his face.
Keeping his hands up a moment longer than strictly necessary, he protected the flame lighting his cigarette from a non-existent breeze. He waited patiently for the slight brush of the fingers, twisting the moment he felt them delicate as a wing touch to his back pocket, his hand striking out like a snake to trap one of her wrists. Dragging her close like she was someone he was well familiar with he kept his hold on her wrist, resting it against his chest as his thumb dug into a pressure point in warning for her to keep still. His free arm he wrapped around her waist, hand resting on her lower back, tips of his fingers just meeting the waistband.
The crowds continued to push on around them, ignoring the couple in their midst, eyes locked on each other as they greeted one another. A smile slid onto his face as he took in her wide green eyes, lush lower lip open just slightly. He'd caught her totally unaware - of that he had no doubt. She hid most of her shock fairly well, considering.
She froze in his grasp, knowing all too well that his fingers were too close to her skin. She didn’t blink as she watched his face, though. Drawing a crowd would not be a pleasant thing, as it would most likely force her to have to leave this town also. She debated on a few different things she could do to make him let go of her, immediately crossing off the one most dangerous for her: kissing him. Her free arm at her side came up slowly under his arm to rest her open palm at his collarbone, fingers gently caressing his shirt, hoping to distract him before making her next move.
Her full lower lip caught in between her teeth and she pressed closer to him just as slowly as her hand had come up. She didn’t want to alert him to anything - and normally the slower you moved with someone who could harm you, the less likely they were to think you would try to harm them. But when it came to this girl, most of the time they were sadly mistaken. Her leg quickly shifted in between his and rose swiftly up, aiming for his crotch.
A slight flicker of interest had passed through him as she pressed close to him, but his face maintained its pleasant neutrality. He would be laughed out of his father’s house though if he didn't see the slight shift of her body, the flicker in her eyes that belayed her next move. A pretty face she had, for sure, but he was well familiar with another that would have had his guts on his toes by now if he'd pulled this with her. So he’d kept his guard up and when she brought her leg up sharply he neatly sidestepped it and pushed her back a slight bit so that she was off balance, having to rely on him for balance or let go to fall. He tsked slightly. "Now chére, attemptin’ robbery an' den assault? Y're workin' up quite d' record here."
A snarl came to her lips as she clutched at his shirt, resisting the urge to fly. She didn’t want anyone to know she had any powers at all. Even with the variety of people in this city, she doubted they were all friendly towards her kind. She regained her footing and let go of his shirt roughly. He still had her wrist though - which normally would not cause a problem for her, but she wanted him to think he still had the upper hand. “Swamp rat.” She spit on his feet and feigned trying to pull away from him, only to have his grip grow a bit tighter. Some people were starting to stare so she reluctantly took a step towards him, nearly closing the gap again.
Laughing, he tapped her nerve just a bit harder in warning, watching as she paled and let out a small gasp. "Y're pretty feisty for a little t'ief." He gave her a long look, taking in her thin face and threadbare clothes - the small smear of dirt on one cheek, though she was relatively clean. "Y're not from around here, neh?"
The girl clamped her jaw shut and just stared at him. He didn’t need to know anything about her; he was her target - ’was’ being the key word. She had to figure out a way to get away from him without drawing attention to the situation or to her. All she wanted was a bit of money to buy something to eat, and he wasn’t going to be the person to get it from obviously, so she needed to move on to someone else. She didn’t fight against him though, hoping that maybe if she just relented to his grip, he’d let her go and she could go back to picking her next mark. It wasn't like she was complaining about staring at him for however long he decided to hold her there though, what she could see of his face was rather nice to look at.
His brow went up, mouth quirking to one side. "What? Cat got y're tongue? Or y' just learned t' mind y're manners?" He let her arm drop but kept his hand on her point, starting to walk with the crowd so they wouldn't attract attention. "So...no point in askin' y' d' same question twice...seemin' as I already know y're answer anyways. If y're accent didn't give y' away bad enough, y're know-how of N'awleans isn't enough t' feed a flea on." He gave her a wry glance. "Or y' I'd expect. So what are y'? Runaway?"
A frown spread across her face as he started leading her through the crowd. Out of reflex, she pulled her shoulders up close to her, trying to keep away from any accidental touching, even if she was fully clothed. Her heart rate sped up from not knowing where this stranger was taking her and from being so close to skin contact; this could not end well. Her eyes scanned the crowd warily as they moved, making sure to steer her free arm clear of people by wrapping it around her stomach. "Let go," she said, softly but firmly, her stubborn will and pride evident, "Ah'll leave ya 'lone. Won't bother y'all 'gain. Promise."
"Really?" Easing her to the edge of the busy crowd he ducked them down a side street and twisted her into the doorway of a closed shop before she could even so much as squeak in protest. He did release her then, leaning casually against the one free wall, her way blocked by him. "So...I've let y' go. Ain' meanin' y' a lick of harm, so no need to panic or have ..." He flipped his hand, grinning even wider. "...hysterics." Folding his arms across his chest he gave her a nod. "So. Y' do know somethin' of pickpocketin'. But y' have shit skills in markin' who t' steal from." He studied her a bit longer, coming to a decision. "Y' hungry?"
She gave him a disgusted look. "Do Ah strike ya as one that'd panic or have," she mimicked his hand gesture, "hysterics?" She put her arms down at her sides and looked over his shoulder, trying to find a new target already. "Thanks. 'Preciate tha compliment," her tone dripped with sarcasm and she shot him a glare as she moved to step around him. "'Scuse me. Gonna keep mah promise an' not bother y'all 'gain. Got shit ta do." Her stomach growled in protest and she winced, catching herself quickly and schooling her expression back to her standard blank face.
"Seemin' as I just met y', chére, an' d' only words y've said are t' insult me pretty much, I don’t really have much t' base it on." He stepped to block her and was met by a green glare that would suit a tiger. No lack of guts on this one, that was for sure. "Ah, butcha already bothered me. Now, as I see it, y' owe me somethin'. Either dat or we can go take a little wander an' see if we can find a black an' white."
Her eyes widened a bit at his words before going back into a glare worse than the last. "Ah ain't owin' ya anythin'. Ah'm gettin' outta ya hair, an' ya ain't got any proof Ah done anythin', so ain't nothin' ya could tell a cop." Her hands fisted and un-fisted multiple times as she tried to calm down. Owe him something?! Oh, she owed him something, all right. Her fist in his jaw. But that was beside the point. Even if she wanted to give him what he thought she owed him, she couldn’t. She snorted; and she most certainly did not want to! He was right though, she needed to pick better targets; this guy was a piece of work.
"We gonna keep dancin' around dis?" He made a show of looking at his watch. "I've not got any appointments t' keep myself right at dis very moment. Still, I expect dis isn't gonna be all dat entertainin'. An' I am a man who likes his entertainment." He drawled the last few words out, smirking. "Of course, if y' do go with me y'll get a meal out of it an' y' can go on y're own way after just fine. Y' were lookin' for a meal outta me anyways. D' only difference dis way is y'll be havin' it with me as well as on me."
Shrugging he turned to walk away. "Of course, y' can go an' pick someone else's pocket. An' hope it ain't someone worse." He took a few steps and looked over his shoulder. "Oh...an' y'll want t' watch for Fagan an' his bunch. Dey don' like people on dere turf." He nodded to the cracked pavement at her feet. "An' y're standin' on it."
Her arms crossed under her chest, her emerald eyes narrowed at him. Her stubborn pride was telling her to stay put, but her stomach was about ready to cave in on itself if it didn't get something in it soon. She mentally weighed her options, either she could go have a meal with him or pick pocket someone else - which would prolong her getting food. Pride be damned, she was hungry. "Don't know who Fagan is. Don't much care. Could take him." She started walking and went past him, throwing him a look over her shoulder. "Y'all comin'?" A smirk crossed her face after she turned around and started walking again. One meal with this man wouldn't hurt her any, in fact, it would probably be better than she'd had in a long time.
With her back to him, he didn't bother suppressing the look of satisfaction of having won that small battle of wills. She was flouncing ahead at a fairly good place, so he hurried to catch up. "I take it y're pickin' den? An' y've got it wrong, chére. Ain't Fagan himself y' got t' worry about so much - he might actually try an' find a place for y'."
He eyed the view afforded. More than likely he'd have different areas of employment than thieving for this one. Fagan had boys so innocent looking, light fingered and experienced they'd bring in more in an hour than this girl could in a day. "More d' rest of dem. D' mob. Dey don' like competition, an' dey don't like splittin' d' spoils at all."
"Could take 'em. Ain't worried 'bout it." She slowed her stride and fell into step next to him, looking straight ahead, not willing to look at him. A small gust of wind blew by them and she huffed when she had to tuck her silver hair back behind her ear. "An' Ah don't care if ya want 'payment' f' tha food. Ain't 'bout ta give it ta ya. So, if that's ya plan, just tell me now an' Ah'll deck ya one an' walk away."
"Girl y' weigh all of what? Hundred an' twenty? If dat even soakin' wet right about now. Y're nothin' but skin an' bones. It's amazin' y' don't rattle." Still, she looked nice enough, hips swaying with sass. She toyed with that silver dyed hair of hers. Probably thought it made her look older. Very pretty though, despite all that, if she kept her mouth closed long enough. "Y' implyin' some improper behavior on my part dere?" He inquired in a teasing tone. "In d' way you use dat word. ‘Paymahnt’,” he repeated, over accentuating her southern mud drawl.
"An' what if Ah do?" She turned her head to him, eyes blazing with anger, "Ya think Ah couldn't hold mah own just 'cause Ah'm not a big gal? Is that it? Well, lemme tell y'all somethin', Swamp rat, y'all don't ever wanna get in a real honest ta goodness fight with me. Y'all'll be sorely mistaken 'bout ya assumption." She grit her teeth as she turned to watch where she was going again. "Y'all are tha one said Ah owed ya. Ah ain't implyin' nothin' 'sides what ya already done yaself." She crossed her arms again and let her voice get slightly softer, "Where we goin' anyhow?"
"Oh I know girls about your size that could give me a new smile." He flicked a finger across his throat in demonstration. "You aren't one of dem though." Sass she had, but no brains. Or not brains precisely – just no knowledge. And that was often fatal. A lot of older runaways were like this. Thought they had it so rough at home, so lit out to try life on their own; spending their time groping blindly about until real life gave them the spanking they so richly needed. Then they'd go ki-yayin' home. This one though? She'd been out on the street a while, that was for certain - long enough to get this skinny.
He'd rather not have a pissed off alley cat for a dining companion so he held a hand out in consolation, words gliding smooth off his tongue, not matching his train of thought. "Meant dinner only. Jus' a friendly meal. Nothin' else. Nothin' too touristy or fancy so y' stick out.” He nodded across the way. "An' y' can't beat d' cookin' from dere no ways." Leading the way across the street he held the door to the diner open. "Aprés vous, mademoiselle."
Slowly, she lowered her arms from under her chest and walked through the door, reaching back to hold it open for him out of habit. "Thanks," she was shocked to find she meant it, even if he was still a jerk. He didn't know anything about her, it was rude of him to jump to the conclusion that she couldn't do him harm. She refused to look up to where normally she would meet his eyes; if he hadn't been wearing his sunglasses. Taking a look around the small diner, she smiled a bit; it looked really nice and homey. More than that, it was comfortable. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything near comfortable, and it was nice.
"Not a problem." She slid into a booth and he took the bench opposite, watching as she fiddled with the menu of specials that was in a cheap cracked plastic holder on the table. "How long y' been in town?" Easing himself back he relaxed outwardly without letting his guard down, as always scanning the crowd in the diner behind his glasses, completely aware of how many people were there and where they were. It was a matter of habit now - and one that you needed to have if you wanted to stay alive. Well...for him and a select few at least. Regular folk didn’t much have to bother with it he supposed. Things were currently fairly complicated, but then he was supposed to help 'un-complicate' things, wasn't he? His doubts in the matter didn't mean a thing - the rituals and prophecies that wound through the guild structure like veins through a body had spoken very clearly of him. And that was enough for all of them. It had to be enough for him as well, he thought with a wry snort.
"Don't see why that should matter." She chewed on her lower lip and let her eyes scan over the specials again before searching the restaurant for any potential danger. At any moment, that woman could find her; and that woman could look like anyone. That was what worried her the most, she might never realize until it was too late. "How long y'all been feedin' pickpockets?" She set the menu down on the table and pulled her hands to her lap, picking at the seam of one of her gloves.
Watching as she fidgeted he shrugged. "Just makin' chit chat. Y' don't have t' get worked up over every question I ask y'." The harried middle aged waitress came bustling up to their table with a couple of menus. He waved her off with a request for a couple of sweet teas, not bothering to check if that's what the girl wanted. She was southern. It'd do.
"An' I suppose y' could say I've been doin' it on an' off for a while. Depends on how y' judge it." He studied her for a while, taking in her rag tag appearance with a practiced eye. "Y're about my age, oui? Maybe a titch younger. Y' take good care of y'rself an' y' don't have sores or things, so I'm guessin' y' ain't on drugs or drinkin'. Y're way too covered up t' be tryin' t' attract any eyes t' ply another trade.” He cocked his head at her. "An' y' don't quite suck at it, but y' ain't a practiced pick pocket. So dat says t' me y' been doin' it a while, but not y're whole life. So why y' here den, chére?"
Bristling inwardly at his casual mocking assessment of her she arched an annoyed eyebrow. "Sorry, but that don't seem like just chit-chat ta me." She reached up and took her hair out of its ponytail, pulling the elastic back around her wrist as the other hand fluffed her hair out. "Ah'm seventeen." It couldn't hurt to tell him at least that could it? He was trying to be friendly; the least she could do was not be a complete bitch, even if she was still irritated. "Won't touch drugs or anythin' like that an' no one touches me," she looked at his face then with a hard stare.
After a moment, her emerald eyes rolled upward and she shook her head slightly, "Been at it f' a few years. How do ya know so much 'bout that, anyhow? Got stuff ya can teach me?" Her eyebrows went up in mocking question as she watched him.
"Oh I could teach you more than a few things." He gave her a wide assed grin, more than a hint of exactly what he was implying he could teach her in it. "But think dat'd be against y're rules. An' at seventeen, y're nearly home free - social services should leave y' alone pretty much unless y' make y'reself a target. Y're parents can't do shit in another year if y' keep y're head down. So I think y'll do jus' fine if y' can keep y're ass outta trouble." Shaking his head he spread his hands out. "As far as teachin' y'...well, I don' think y've seen a place like N'awleans. It's a bit different here. Dis city has a lotta layers under all d' beads an' partyin' y' see on d' surface." A faint line appeared on his brow as he thought about what to tell her. "I tell y' what I can do. Maybe I can put a word in wit' Fagan t' tell his lot t' leave y' alone. In d' big picture of things y're jus' scratchin' up a few crumbs. Won't really affect dem dat much."
After a moment, he leaned forward on his elbows. "Of course, y' could jus' go honest, an' get a job at a place like dis. Settle down in a place. Y' jus' have t' give any diner or hotel manager a sad look from dem big green eyes of y'rs an' dey'll give y' a chance."
Her nostrils flared slightly at the mention of her parents and she averted her eyes back to the specials menu. "Been doin' just fine 'till Ah made tha mistake of markin' y'all. Don't need ya charity - can deal with Fagan's bunch just fine on mah own if Ah should run inta 'em." The waitress came back and set down their teas; the girl gave her a sweet smile, "Thanks, sugah." The smile disappeared before she turned back to the man in front of her. "Don't tend ta stay in one place f' too long. Ain't no need ta settle down."
Ah, so some sort of trouble then rather than just a dissatisfied teen, if she was still running. Probably involving with her folks the way she reacted, gone all tense at mention of them. Figuring he'd go for a change of topic, rather than prod her any further, he picked his glass up and drank long from it, making a big production out of scanning the menu. For one, it didn't really make a difference; she'd do what she would, and she wasn't his problem. Just a pretty face that caught his eye for a moment.
Setting his own menu down he pulled hers away from her, stacking it neatly at the edge of the table for the waitress to retrieve. "Y' don't wanna eat some crap like a burger or a salad. Dis is N'awleans. If y're a drifter, y' might as well enjoy it while y' can." The waitress chose that moment to come up, collecting the menus. He ordered for the two of them, making sure to include a number of the touristy 'must do's' as far as food items. Of course, they also happened to be things he enjoyed, but then he never claimed to be a philanthropist.
She waited till they were alone again before leaning towards him in irritation. "Ya keep orderin' f' me like Ah'm some brainless bimbo. Stop it. Ah do just fine on mah own." She crossed her arms under her chest again and fixed him with a glare that wasn't any different from the others she had given him. Crossing her legs under the table she 'accidentally' stretched her leg over a bit too far so the toe of her shoe connected solidly with his shin."Oops."
He gave her an amused smirk. "Y' know, y're pretty pissy for someone who jus' tried t' rob me, knee me in d' balls and in return got a free meal outta d' whole deal. Y're momma not teach y' anythin' about manners?" He returned to his iced tea and took another swallow, ice clinking merrily in the well etched glass. Damn but it was hot and sticky today. Like most days, really, but it still meant that a cold drink felt great going down.
"Mama taught me not ta talk ta strangers, too, an' look where that's got me." She watched him take another drink and looked down at her own glass still on the table. She picked it up and took a small sip, licking her lips afterward. It took a lot of self control to not down the entire glass. Her throat was dry and the small sip she took only teased it, so she took another sip. It also took a lot of self control to not let him see how good it felt to get something cool and sweet on her tongue. "Y'all didn't have ta buy me food. Was ya own choice."
He sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, it was my decision. An' no, y' didn't ask. Wasn't expectin' y' t' lick my boots, chére. Just not beat on me." She took another of those tentative sips of the drink like a child nibbling carefully at a sweet to make it last longer. "Y’ can have whatever y' want though. Just try what I ordered. If y' don't like it y' can have anythin' on d' menu - but think of me a little like a tour guide. Y' might as well try somethin' different, oui? Never know what y'll like." He wheeled.
"Didn't say Ah wouldn't eat it. Just said ta stop treatin' me like a brainless bimbo. Coulda just as easily suggested it ta me an' asked me if Ah'd like ta have it. 'Sides, ya never know if a girl could be allergic ta somethin'!" She ran a gloved finger down her glass, creating a line through the condensation. "Glad ya didn't expect me ta lick ya boots. Never know who's shit ya coulda stepped in," she grinned a bit, but kept her eyes on her tea glass.
A surprised laugh came from him and he shook his head again. "Y're full of sass girl. That's for sure. As far as bimbo's dey show a lot more dan y' do.” He drew a line on his own chest, marking a low cut cleavage. “So I wouldn't worry about anyone expectin' y' t' be one." He couldn’t help the slight frown at her assessment of his background - she wasn't that far off the mark really either, depending how you looked at it. He'd been wading through unsavory and often highly illegal things his whole life. Still, she demanded his respect with the authority of a woman of worth rather than the rag tag urchin she was. Mouth quirking once more, he gave her a deep nod. "My apologies mademoiselle."
She couldn't help the smirk at his laugh, it was a nice rich sound and it was nearly contagious. She looked up to him and tried hard to pull the smirk back in, angry with herself that it took a moment to do so. "Apology accepted, Swamp Rat." She tilted her head to the side then frowned and looked around the diner again, trying to figure out something that had been puzzling her - it wasn't bright in there. "Why don't ya take off ya sunglasses?"
"What? An' ruin my image?" He struck a casual pose. "Why don' y' take off y're gloves? Can't say I've seen people walk around wit' dem, expecially in dis heat, unless dere goin' t' a weddin' or whatnot." Or working a job - but then, that was generally leather - not worn fabric ones she had on. It was like how she wore sleeves down to her wrists and long pants. Maybe she had some sort of odd skin condition that she kept hidden, or scars.
His eyes hooded slightly in thought. Scars would maybe explain why she ran. She seemed very bent on people not touching her. Wouldn't be the first girl on the streets running cause they'd been raped or abused. Sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Pulling a deck of cards out of his pocket, he started to shuffle them. "Y' wanna play a game before d' food comes?"
She laughed a bit at his pose then bit her lower lip roughly to get herself to stop. Frowning at his question about her gloves, she fiddled with her glass again, not wanting to answer him directly since Mystique could be lurking around any corner. If he knew anything about her, he could use it against her if that woman ever found him. "Touché." One of her eyebrows arched as she watched him shuffle the cards. "What kind of game, an' what are tha stakes? Ah ain't got any money ta bet, obviously."
One thing was for sure - she was pretty when she smiled, however obviously reluctant to do so. There were some definite walls around this one. Not as high as others – say him for starters. The difference was mainly in how they dealt with things. She snapped and glared while he just smiled and smoothly evaded. Probably some similar issues between them though for all that.
"Don't have t' be for money." He grabbed a few sugar packets, the pink and white paper crinkling between his fingers, placing half on her side of the table and the remaining half on his. "Y' know poker, right?" He flicked his thumb along the stiff new card, enjoying the familiar and reassuring feel of it in his hands.
"'Course Ah know poker. Was taught how ta play when Ah was little." She scooped the sugar packets into a small pile and watched him toy with the card. "Ok, then, Dealer, what’re tha rules of tha game? Any wilds?" She took another sip of her tea and watched him tentatively over the rim of the glass. "Ya a gamblin' man, then? Carry cards with ya everywhere in tha chance ya might run inta someone willin' ta bet somethin'?"
"Nah. Only really play for fun. And figure straight up keeps things simple." He shuffled the deck with only a slight bit of flare - he couldn't resist the urge to show off just a bit, but didn't need to make an ass out of himself by overdoing it. "Let's just say d' cards treat me well." He returned the smile with a full grin of his own. Catching the harried waitress’s attention again he asked for a full jug of sweet tea so that the girl wouldn't feel the need to horde her glassful. He knew what it felt like to do without. She could at least have one meal without worrying about making the little bit she had last.
The girl tucked her hair behind her ear as she watched him work the cards, not letting her interest show on her face. “Quite practiced at that.” She looked up at the waitress then back to him with a confused frown, but didn’t say anything about it. She wouldn’t refuse more tea. “Tell me, Swamp Rat, why tha hell do ya care if Ah got any food or not? Ya coulda just let me go an’ walked away. Ya already know Ah ain’t gonna repay ya f’ this, so there’s nothin’ in it f’ y’all.”
"Get t' spend time with a pretty lady. Dere’s lotsa men that do dat with no further promises, neh? Pay for a meal just for the pleasure of a ladies company?" Dealing the cards with quick efficient flicks of his fingers he raised one brow over the edge of his dark glasses. "Guess y' could kinda call dis a 'date'.”
The girl fixed him with a blank stare at that, "Don't flatter yaself. Ya head might explode if it gets any bigger." She carefully scooped up her cards and looked them over, making sure to keep her blank face on as she looked at them, seeing if she wanted to trade any. "No, lotsa men don’t do that. Lotsa men have angles or ulterior motives." She looked at him over her cards, "An' Ah'd rather not think of this as a date. Prefer mah first date ta not be with a Swamp Rat who feels sorry f' me, thanks." She grimaced as soon as she had said it, but couldn't take it back now. She was getting too comfortable here, her guard was slipping.
Eyes jerking up from studying his own cards he gave her an incredulous look. "First date? Y' must be pullin' my leg. A pretty thing like y' - even down on y're luck like y' are - has had t' have boys pantin' after y'." Tapping the deck with a finger he lowered his cards a bit. "An' can't say dat I don't have ulterior motives at times...but after dis, don't expect t' see y' again. Y're free t' go on y're way.” Going back to his hand he tapped the deck between the two of them “Y' want any cards?"
"Didn't say Ah didn't have boys pantin' after me. Said Ah'd never had a date before..." She swallowed hard and lay down two cards. "Two. F'get Ah said anythin'. Ain't important anyhow." Her mind shifted back to her first kiss and she shifted in her seat some, switching her legs that were crossed. She slid the two cards he laid in front of her into her palm, pulling them up to the fan of cards in her other hand. Not a bad hand - could be worse.
He passed them over and just took a single one himself, waiting for her to make her bet. "So...y' not d' datin' type den? Not one for romance?" She may have warned him off the topic, but he was curious now. And no one had ever claimed him overly smart about these sorts of things. It was fun, he realized, sitting and making idle chatter with this girl, even if he didn't expect he'd get anything beyond a biting comeback. Life on the streets hadn't beaten her down and he found it refreshing somehow, perhaps in the promise that it offered for the lucky few to escape the horrors that lurked in wait for the majority.
She arched an eyebrow at him and threw two sugar packets to the center of the table. “Y’all don’t get ta ask me ‘bout mah romantic life. That’s just rude. Didn’t y’all’s mama teach ya better than that? Ain’t polite ta ask ‘bout somethin’ so personal when ya don’t even know a gal’s name.” She looked back at her cards, “An’, no, Ah ain’t gonna tell ya, don’t bother askin’.” Her mouth curled into a small smirk as she picked up her tea and took another sip.
"I don't got one, so actually, no." He matched her two sugar packets, surprised at his admission. Normally he didn't talk about his motherless status...or about anything to do with his background at all. It felt odd realizing he'd told her just as casual as that. "But y’ have a good point. Should at least exchange names if I’m goin’ t’ be courteous. I can go first if y' want…I’m known as Remy LeBeau when I ain’t bein’ called other names." He held his free hand out across the table.
She felt herself flush some, feeling slightly embarrassed about her crack on his mother, "Oh. Sorry, sugah." Looking over her cards, she decided she wanted to raise him. Picking up three sugar packets, she paused when she realized she'd just used her standard term of affection for him. Screwing up her face she looked at his hand for a moment, then back up at his face. She tossed the packets to the center and carefully took the offered hand. "Other names like ‘Swamp Rat’? ‘Cause that’s what Ah’m gonna stick ta callin’ ya." She didn't bother telling him her name, not caring if it wasn’t what he expected. She had already told him not to ask.
He gently twisted her hand within his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. "So...I should call y' ‘sugar’ den? Sweet enough for y’. Suits." He went back to his cards and after a moment of reflection tossed in four packets. "Ah, dem cute little pet names. Swamp rat ain't d' worst I've been called t' be sure."
Resisting the urge to smile at the small gentlemanly gesture, she pulled her hand away and sneered at him. "No, don't call me sugah. ‘Suits.' Ha, yeah right. Ah ain't been nothin' but snarky; 'sugah' don't suit at all." She roughly tossed in her packets without even looking at her cards. "An' Swamp Rat ain't a pet name." She looked over her cards again and nodded about her raise of his packets.
“Not yet.” He muttered under his breath, before speaking loud enough for his voice to carry to her. "So what do y' propose I call y' den? An' y' are sweet - just with a big dose of spice.” Grin returning full bore, he smirked. “An' I like my food spicy." He laid his cards down on the table. She was fun to rib. The pink in her cheeks and the flame in her eyes was a reaction he was beginning to enjoy eliciting.
"Well, Ah ain't ya food, so it shouldn't matter." She shrugged and picked up her tea again. "Why should ya have ta call me anythin'? Ya ain't never gonna see me 'gain soon as Ah walk out tha door of this place, remember?" The girl took a longer drink than she had before and set the glass down as she let out a barely audible sigh.
"Fair enough. I'll just call y' 'hey you' for d' rest of dis meal." With impeccable timing the waitress descended upon them, bearing her burden of plates. He'd ordered a lot of partial orders so that ‘hey you’ or whoever she was could sample a fair amount of things. "Time t' dig in then.” He picked a shrimp out of the jambalaya and popped it in his mouth.
She shrugged one shoulder at his response then her attention was pulled to the food. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, trying to decide which to taste first. "Well, ya seem ta be callin' me 'chére' often enough. So why not just stick with that?" She picked up her spoon and took a bite of the gumbo first, letting her eyes close when she got it in her mouth, not burning her despite the obvious heat of the dish. She swallowed and opened her eyes to look at him. "Thanks f' this..." Obviously the last shred of dignity she held on to had gone down her throat with the gumbo.
"Y're welcome." He returned simply; knowing what it cost her. It was hard to accept help. He had pride aplenty too. "We'll get dessert too...but eat on up. We can box up any leftovers for y' if y' want." He ate in silence for a minute, watching her unobtrusively as she worked her way through the food, quickly at first before slowing down to enjoy the meal once the worst of her hunger was blunted.
"Ah don't..." She took another bite and swallowed before speaking again. "Ah don't wanna put ya out any." The food was so delicious and she wouldn't say no to more of it, if he really wanted to. She put her cards face up on the table, not caring about the game anymore. She started to move another bite to her mouth and stopped, not able to hide a slight blush and laughed softly. "Ah must look like a right pig. Sorry."
"Hard t' not shovel it in when y're belly is pinched dat much. Don't worry about table manners with me. I'm a teen-aged boy - since when do we have a sense of decorum?" He took a large mouthful himself in illustration, chewing and swallowing. "An' after all, it ain't a proper dinner without dessert."
She laughed a bit at his demonstration, relaxing some into the seat. "Too bad Ah cain't pickpocket people like y'all every day." She stabbed a shrimp and tore into half of it playfully, not realizing that she had gotten more comfortable by the minute with this Remy person. "It's Rogue, by tha way." She finished off the shrimp and poured herself some more tea, holding the pitcher over his glass in question.
He smiled at her small confession, nodding to her unspoken question about more tea. "Just Rogue? Like 'Cher' or 'Pink'?" He speared a bit of spicy sausage. "And see? I ain't dat bad. Maybe a bit annoyin' at times, but generally worth y're time."
She poured the tea and set it down on the side of the table. "Jus' Rogue. Oui," she mocked his accent and stuck her tongue out at him. "Ah can be annoyin', too. An' not generally worth ya time." Rogue speared a bit of the same sausage he had and fought a grin. He really was turning out to be a nice guy and it was odd that he'd been able to poke a hole in her wall without even trying.
Laughing again he put his fork down, content to sit and watch her eat for a while, sipping his tea. "Well, y' appear t' be worth at least a couple of hours of my time, neh?" He got a little more serious and leaned forward. "Look, Rogue - I don' know where y're from and what d' rules are dere...but here, things are different. N'awleans is a tough city. Pretty, but hard as nails underneath. I appreciate y've been on y're own for a while an' y've been able t' watch y'rself up t' dis point.” He shrugged. “It's different here though. Different streets - different rules. Y' need t' keep dat in mind an' keep y're eyes open."
"Ah know that,” she shot back defensively, “Ah've been here f' nearly a week, an' Ah've been on mah own f' nearly five years. Ah can handle mahself." She took a gulp of her tea, not understanding why she told him about her past so openly. It wasn't really a secret, but she had made a promise to herself not to tell him anything about her. As it was now, he knew more things than she wanted him to. Her alias; her age; how long she'd been on the run. She bit her lip and took another bite of the food to prevent herself from saying anything more.
He filed away the little things she let slip, knowing that he’d get nothing easy from her as he wiped his hands on the cheap paper napkin. He'd done the best he could do to warn her, and he just had to leave it at that. There were so many that came to this city...and so many born in it that suffered varied fates that went unnoticed by the majority of the populace. If he worried on the people who scraped what they could off of the streets he'd be grey by now. "Y' ready for some dessert? Can have her box up what's left."
"Ah'm sure Ah can find some room somewhere ta fit tha dessert in... Ah really do 'preciate this." She looked at the table at all of the leftover food, "An' Ah wouldn't say no ta takin' this with me." Rogue leaned over to peer at her cards that lay nearly forgotten. "What hand did y'all have?"
For a homeless kid, she somehow still had a certain innocent bloom to her that showed only rarely through chinks of her armor – like the honest smile that had filled her face when he’d mentioned ‘dessert’. "Full house. Kings high." He gave her a cocky smile. "An' as I said – dessert or anythin’ else y’ want is y'rs, with my compliments. Y' gonna choose what y’ want dis time, since I was ‘makin' y' out t' be a twit’ by orderin' for d' two of us before?"
She made a face when he said his hand, looking over hers again. "Damn. Ah only had a pair of aces." Rogue scooped the cards up and handed them over to him. "Thinkin' some chocolate cake or maybe some peach cobbler..." Her mouth was watering at all of the desserts she wanted. "Thanks f’ lettin’ me choose this time."
He stuck them quickly in his pack, returning them in the pocket where they sat reassuringly with solid familiarity. Poking at the menu he looked at her carefully. "Now...don't make it like I'm tryin' t' tell y' what t' do again, but y' know y' can get dat anywhere, oui?" Her eyes flashed up to meet his again and he gave her a cheeky grin.
Rogue playfully rolled her eyes and gave an over-exaggerated sigh, “Alright, Cajun. What is it? What is gonna be so wonderful that Ah gotta have it?” She looked back at his face and for some reason desperately wanted to see what his eyes looked like, but she wasn’t going to push the issue; especially since he might return the favor about her gloves and that could result in harm to him. She may have wanted to hurt him earlier, but now? Now was different, even if she still didn’t understand why. He’s a charmer, nothin’ more. Don’t let him get under ya skin, gal.
"If y're gonna be in N'awleans only for a bit, I'm gonna count y' as a tourist. So y' gotta try d' banana's foster. Though if y're really stuck on dat chocolate cake, get dat too. Dey make it from scratch here and it's damn good." She'd lost a bit of her snappish way of saying things, he was pleased to see. Not that he had any intentions of tumbling this one – after all he had to be at work in a little better than an hour. But it may have been interesting to try, street kid or no. There was a certain edge to her that begged to be smoothed.
“Banana’s foster?” Rogue sat up a bit straighter in her booth. “An’, that’s alright. Don’t wanna gorge mahself, ya know?” She gave him a small grin and picked at the paper napkin in her lap, rebuilding the piece of her wall that he had broken through. It was dangerous and stupid to have let him do that. She knew she needed to carefully think through her thoughts before she let them spill out of her mouth, especially the ones forced out by her strong sense of pride. However, she didn’t want to go back to being rude either, not after he’d bought this meal for her. Rogue cleared her throat and looked back up. “So… How old are y’all, then?” Small talk was good. Small talk was safe.
"Oui – it’s banana’s heated up in sugar an' rum basically. Very sweet, but very good. Y' won't forget it, I'll tell y' dat much." As the waitress cleared the plates to box them, he traced his fingers around one small stain left behind by the pitcher of iced tea, never quite putting his finger in it, always skirting it delicately. A bit of silence drug out between her question and his response before he finally looked up at her. "Seventeen. Nearly eighteen; so a year older an' wiser dan y'." He finally replied, turning it into a tease before his voice sobered. "So y'll remember what I said about the streets?"
“The dessert sounds good,” she said very plainly, trying not to show that she was excited about getting something so sweet. Rogue watched him as he carefully traced the ring left behind by the pitcher, wondering why he would take so long to answer her. Meeting his eyes, or where she suspected they would be, she arched an eyebrow at his playful tone. “Huh. Sure ya are. Age ain’t got nothin’ ta do with wisdom, Swamp Rat. Why’d it take ya so long ta answer me?” Purposefully asking him another question, avoiding the one he had asked her. Besides, she was curious; he didn’t have any problems asking her questions and expecting answers, why would he take so long to answer one of hers? He’d completely avoided her question about his sunglasses, as well. Blew it off as some joke. He’d at least given her an answer on his age, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it seemed to have some deeper meaning in it.
"Jus' got lost in thought for a second is all. Why? Y' think I've got somethin' nefarious about answerin’ that I’m seventeen?" His poppa has always said that it was best to hide behind the truth. He’d noticed that she evaded answering him yet again in the mutual verbal spar that they seemed to be locked in. It was doubtful he'd be able to drag much more out of her as far as promises or things went about being careful – she seemed to think she was bomb proof.
Besides which...what was she to him other than any of the others? He charmed them, spent an enjoyable night and then left after wishing them well. He wasn't spending any time sleepless over the present circumstances of any of the girls he’d slept with in the past – and he’d done considerably less with her – so no sense to think this would be any different.
Leant back in the seat, relaxed and calm, he smiled at the two dishes of ice cream and the sweet liquor filled dessert that was placed in front of them. "Enjoy it chére. Dis flavor’ll stick in y're mouth for a while. Guarantee y'll remember dis food longer dan y' will me."
She looked down as the dessert was placed in front of her and she barely resisted the urge to lick her lips before thanking the waitress again. Frowning as a thought crossed her mind she looked at him suspiciously. “Y’all didn’t order this yet. ‘Less ya ordered it with tha main food.” Rogue crossed her arms under her chest and arched an irritated eyebrow, waiting for his answer for this one. “An’ Ah got a damned good memory. Ain’t likely ta f’get things.” Just likely ta jumble ‘em up with other people’s memories, she added silently.
"Let's just say dey know me pretty well in here." He cocked his head at her. "Unless dis is a problem. Still can get dat cake easy as snappin' my fingers." The point was moot as she'd already started to dig into hers and had closed her eyes in bliss, which had pretty much answered that question. Dieu, but the way she looked was giving him ideas of her screwing her face up in pleasure at other things he could offer her. He gave Henri and his need for punctuality a faint mental curse, even if it was probably for the best. This girl was way too interested in pursuing trains of thought rather than just letting it wash away in the tide of pleasant conversation…or other pursuits.
Rogue finally let herself lick her lips, only to get some ice cream off of them, not to show how much she was enjoying it. Right? Of course that was right, hadn’t there been ice cream on her lip? Sure there had been… Looking up at him, she felt her cheeks flush slightly when she noticed that he had been watching her intently, barely touching his own dessert. Swallowing a spoonful, she shoved the blush down and mimicked his cocking of the head. “Come here often then, Swamp Rat? Shouldn’ta told me that.” She grinned, “Now Ah know where ta find ya if Ah’m growin’ a bit too hungry.” The sad truth was she would make a point of avoiding this place now; she couldn’t get used to the charity he was showing her.
She took another bite and turned the spoon over in her mouth, pulling it out slowly so she got every drop of the taste, closing her eyes again. Damn, but that was good. She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him for ordering this small piece of heaven.
His eyes remained glued to the spoon, his own keeping company with the ice cream melting in the bowl. His lips quirked to the side and he shook his head. "I wouldn't be bettin' on dat. But if y' get into trouble...den yeah. Y’ can leave a message here and dey'll find a way t' get a hold of me." Again, why had he done that? He wasn't unaccustomed to giving small random acts of kindness like he'd done for this girl - though normally he didn’t engage with them like he had her. And it wasn’t completely unrewarded at that - watching her suck on that spoon was near payment enough for it. He simply chose to keep his life very removed from others. It was better that way – hell who could explain his ‘powers’ never mind the guilds.
She smirked at him as she went to take another scoop, noticing it was nearly gone. “Thanks, ‘preciate it, but Ah probably won’t, ta be honest. Ain’t one ta ask f’ help.” She took the bite and gestured at the bowl with her spoon as she was swallowing, “An’ this? This is one of tha best things Ah’ve ever put on mah tongue. So, Ah thank ya, Swamp Rat, f’ a lil taste of true N’awleans culture.” Resisting the urge to lick her bowl, she scooped up the last of the melted goo and swallowed it as she dropped her spoon in the now empty bowl. “Ah should get goin’. Thanks ‘gain.” She put her napkin on the table and stood, taking the boxes from the waitress with a smile.
He stood and went to help her but thought better of it. She liked her individuality and he could understand that. "Thank y' for d' pleasant evenin', Rogue. Everyone should have a little taste of d' Cajun." He offered the double entendre with only a slight twitch to his lips. "Bon nuit."
“Ah’ll tell ya ‘gain: Don’t flatter yaself.” She grinned despite her words and the fact that she meant them. Mostly. “An’, it ain’t good night, Swam- Remy. This would be good bye.” She leaned over the table and took a last sip of her watered down tea, gave him a nod then headed for the door. Rogue glanced over her shoulder at him, not expecting him to be watching her, but smiled at him when she found him doing just that, finally turning to walk out, cradling the food boxes to her. Maybe she could find someone who needed this more than she did.
Looking back at his melted desert he thought better of it, as nice as it would still taste. Better to keep a fairly empty stomach, given the job that he had to do tonight. He gave her plenty of time to duck around whichever corner and disappear before tossing down a few bills, making his own way out of the diner. The moist heat surrounded him the minute he stepped out of the feebly air-conditioned place. Looking over his glasses at the shine of lights down the street from him he smiled at his beloved city. "Well ma belle. What do y' hold for Gambit tonight?"
[Edited on 7/3/2010 by Esynthia]
[Edited on 7/14/2010 by Esynthia]