PI LOG: The X-Factor -- Remy, Kurt, Rogue and Ria
The sound of biokinetics in the still night bring Rogue and Kurt converging on a back alley where Remy has shed blood trying to protect a young mother and her child from a band of hooligans. After the thugs are driven off and the woman attended to, Kurt waits to give the report to the police while Rogue takes Gambit--who has been nearly hamstringed--off to be healed.
Chinatown -- Beacon Harbor
All day has been a vicious reminder that, while spring is coming, it certainly hasn't sprung yet; sharp, biting wind has whipped through the city with the taste of snow on its tail, and subsequently things have been a little more quiet that usual, if Beacon Harbor could ever quite be called 'quiet'. Now that it is past sunset, the temperature has only dropped, hovering somewhere around freezing with an only colder windchill, and the streets are nearly devoid of life. Nearly, of course, is the key word. There is activity in one of Chinatown's many alleys, a few blocks down from the light and warmth of Remy LeBeau's apartment. From a distance, it might not be clear what is going on, in the alley, but there is one thing that cuts through the cold, desolate night. It is the angry, screaming hiss sound of biokinetics. Previously, it was punctuated by the muffled sounds of what might have been screams, or explosions. Now it is only punctuated by silence.
Kess works in Chinatown, and so do a few other people Kurt knows; he's here fairly often, and half the time it's to visit Remy. He teleports into the street near Greenwood Properties and almost immediately, his head whips around at the sound of biokinetics. "Remy!" he shouts, and drops to all fours, bounding at full gallop towards the alley. "Remy!"
Rogue is another one of the people who works in Chinatown; she's just stepping out of Ogori's, tugging her coat snugly around her nice working clothes against the biting wind, when Kurt takes off shouting only a few blocks away. That's enough to get her attention even if she *hadn't* heard the distinctive noise of Remy's power, and her head snaps up sharply. Not bothering to call out, she leaps into flight, soaring down along the roadway to catch up with the German.
The alleyway, they will find, is a little crowded; there must be almost twenty young men, thugs of some sort or another, huddled around the dead end, hands filled with chains and crowbars, knives and maybe even a gun or two. They're all focused away from the entrance of the alley, and it shouldn't take long to figure out why. Huddled against the brick wall and whimpering for mercy is a young mother, her dress dirtied and ripped, bowed over a small child as if to protect him. The only thing that stands between the crowd and the poor woman is Remy himself, teeth gritted in an angry grimace, staff in one hand, cards in the other, and both glowing with his distinct power. Alone, he might have been able to get out of the situation--but he has innocents he can't surrender to the men, and there's just enough of them that giving his full attention to the fight would sacrfice the woman and the child. He's only in street clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt, but he isn't putting his weight evenly over his feet and there's blood trickling down the side of his face. One more flight of cards keeps the crowd at the edge of Gambit's range, but eventually even he will run out of things to throw.
The crowd brings Kurt to a moment's halt. He doesn't know Rogue is on the way - he only knows this is going to get nasty before it gets better. His hesitation is brief, though, and he launches himself forward again, teleporting to just behind the crowd and grabbing at the nearest boy, then teleporting again to reappear above the thugs and drop their compatriot on their heads. Another jump takes him to the fire escape and he roars at the boys, fangs bared, eyes glowing brightly as his tail lashes the metal.
"Oh *hell* no," Rogue hisses through her teeth, and pours on speed until she's slicing through the air like a rocket. She hits the crowd in Kurt's wake, diving down to skim a few feet over the pavement, the better to plow through the mass of people like a bowling ball through an array of pins and dig a furrow straight through the mob.
Chaos erupts at the arrival of Kurt and Rogue; some of the men turn, shouting derogatory words in fear and anger, and others press closer towards Gambit and the pair he has hidden behind him. The teleported man screams louder than the rest as he falls back into the crowd, tangling with some of his fellows, and just as Rogue hits the mob someone's gun goes off. Bricks just to the right of Remy's head explode in a shower of packed clay, where the bullet buries itself, and Remy only has a wordless shout to offer as he lays one of the frontmost men down with another flight of cards. He isn't moving away from the woman or her son, and only part of that may be because of a sense of duty. The man with the gun staggers back to his feet only to aim at the hissing devil on the balcony "God-damn meta freaks!"
The woman and her son. Kurt can help them. He ignores the insult flung his way, and times another teleport to land beside the woman and the child. "Please," he says, desperately, shedding his fierce aspect instantly, "I am going to help you." He reaches for her, wanting to touch her; it doesn't have to be a grasp, just a moment's touch will be enough and he'll teleport all three of them to the roof overhead, out of harm's way. It won't be fun for anyone.
Rogue shakes off men like drops of water as she clears the crowd, rising up into the air again and twisting around to home in on the source of the gunshot. She dives for the gunman, putting herself into the line of fire with gloved hands outstretched to catch hold of the gun. "That's enough of that!"
The woman is too wide-eyed, too scared to really move away from Kurt's touch; she instead yelps in fright, curling around her boy closer, and her voice shivers in her throat. "Please...!" Closer up, it might be apparent to Kurt--if he's looking--why Remy's weight is unevenly spread. There's a patch of jean that has been torn viciously along his inside thigh, which mirrors a slash that was clearly intended to hamstring the Cajun. Once the woman and child have been taken to safety, however, Gambit will roar forward despite his injury, twisting to lay another man low with his staff and a third by yet more cards.
The gunman fires once, twice at Rogue before he realizes it's doing absolutely no good and in a fit of irrationality throws the gun at her, too. Between Kurt's teleportations, Remy's cards, and Rogue's bowling, there are only ten or so men remaining standing--enough of a mob to keep up the mentality of fighting, enough on the ground to confuse footing.
The lurch of rematerialization will likely leave both woman and child feeling very unhappy indeed. Kurt waits until he's sure neither of them is about to fall off the roof, then makes his way to the edge and looks down. He doesn't have another teleport in him. Instead he goes over the roof, slinking down the wall in shadow. When he gets a chance he'll tackle another of the fighters, trying more to confuse than to really hurt.
Rogue loves when they do that. The gun actually smacks her square in the face, but she catches it as it drops with only a little fumbling and crushes it into postmodern sculpture between her hands as she pulls up from her flying charge. With the gun disposed of, she loops back enough to place herself at Gambit's side, and lashes out with her fists at anyone who comes too close.
The guy who threw explosives was bad enough, but now they've got the guy with the boom, some sort of pet demon, and a girl who crumples guns like cardboard. There's two that peel out right away, a third who's tackled by Kurt and goes down screaming like a banshee, and another who Remy lashes the staff against only to pin his head, briefly and forcefully, between adamantium and the wall. Of the six that remain, there's only two who are dimwitted or angry enough to take Rogue head-on; Remy is trying to keep his injured side to Rogue, flight after flight of cards ripping up the alleyway. The other four linger, caught between fight and flight.
Kurt kicks his opponent hard and scrambles free, coming to an all-fours crouch with his tail lashing like that of an angry cat. He bares his teeth and hisses at the men who still look like they haven't made up their minds, his fur bristling. "'Raus! 'Raus! Hau ab!"
Rogue holds her ground as the two men converge on her, until they're close enough that she can duck forward a step and grab for the shirtfront of each with either hand, the better to heft them both off their feet and knock them soundly together. "Somebody," she snaps through gritted teeth, "needs t'teach you boys some manners!"
There's just too much. The men still on their feet turn and flee pell-mell down the street, into other alleyways like cockroaches from the light. Kurt's opponent looks like he's about to turn to kick the German, before a well-timed pair of cards sear before Rogue's face, just inches from her arms, to slam into the man's throat and spin him around so that he lies face-down, motionless. Remy is still trying to move as little as possible, but he is lifting a burning-eyed glare and a snear towards the pale-faced men being accosted by Rogue.
Yeah, that's right, run away. Kurt runs a short distance after the man, furious, then turns back towards the fight. When everything looks in hand he goes up the wall again, wanting to check on mother and son. If he stops moving now he won't start again. "Remy is hurt!" he yells to Rogue.
With a single contemptuous heave, Rogue throws both of the men she's dangling away down the alley after their erstwhile companions. With her hands free and the immediate threat neutralized, she promptly turns towards Remy, reaching out to offer support even as she looks him over. "How bad?"
"Not sure," Remy pants, the charge dying away from his staff. It's the first he's spoken since the two have arrived, and his voice is strained. "Can't see de hurt. But m'damn leg don't want to hold no weight." And it hurts a lot. The injury on the side of his face seems to be nothing more than a superficial graze; it's already finished bleeding and started to scab over, and really only needs a good washing. On the rooftop, the mother is doing her best to clean her son's face--he didn't take the teleportation well--and looks up with startled eyes the instant she's aware of the least bit of motion. They're tattered, but they're whole, and actually in better shape than Gambit.
Kurt peeks up over the edge of the roof, then climbs to crouch on the wall, his expression one of wide-eyed apology. "Please to stay here. Soon will come the police, and I will tell them that you are upstairs. Everything now is going to be all right." He turns to look down at the others. "Remy! I will call now the police! You must go away I think!" The Cajun doesn't like the police.
"Ah gotcha," Rogue tells the Cajun, wrapping an arm around his waist to support his weight. "C'mon." Easiest just to lift into the air, straight up, once she's got a secure hold on him. "How 'bout th'other two?" she calls to Kurt on the way up. "They all right?"
"On it." Remy calls to Kurt, hooking his staff back into his belt so that he can drape an arm over Rogue's shoulders and let her lift him into the air; it's certainly better than trying to walk on his own leg. His eyes are still blazing, and he's trying to ignore the pain as he looks over to the rooftop where the elf crouches.
"I'll...we'll stay right here." The poor woman stammers, watching Kurt while she keeps her son pulled close. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I thought...but he came out of nowhere...Tell...tell the other one--tell both of them--tell them thank you." She's had a little more excitement than she needed tonight.
"Yes!" Kurt calls to Rogue, and waves to the pair of them as they go. He looks back to the woman and smiles at her, careful not to show his teeth. "It's now all right. I will. Stay there, it is safe. I will talk to the police for you."
Rogue hesitates a little, hovering in midair, before she nods to Kurt. "You be careful, you hear?" she tells him, before she starts higher into the air, clearing the rooftops so that she can get her bearings and figure out the direction of Remy's apartment building. She's reluctant to leave Kurt to deal with the police - but then again, with Remy injured...
Remy nods to Kurt, almost invisibly in the dark but for the light of his eyes, and clings to Rogue. Somewhere where he isn't expected to stand would be very nice right about now. The woman nods again, eyes still locked on Kurt. "What...who are you?" She means it in the plural sense.
The question pauses Kurt, crouched on the roof's edge. He flashes a broader smile. "We're just - we are publically-minded citizens. Have a good day, ma'am." He winks at her, one headlamp eye dimmed, then goes over the edge of the roof. He's so tired. The cops better be nice to him.
Rogue offers the woman and her child a quick smile, but doesn't linger any longer than that. With the Greenwood Properties building in sight, she flies away, cutting over the rooftops of Chinatown towards Remy's apartment. Remy's leg needs looked at, and she's very much worried that the wound is beyond her ability to patch up.
The window to Remy's apartment is still wide open, speaking on how exactly the Cajun went rushing to the rescue in the first place. Jolie stands just by the window itself, barking as soon as she sees Rogue. "Damn kids," The Cajun grouses, trying to make less of the injury than there is. "Was jus' too many of dem for me to take, an' pay attention to de femme."
"We're gonna have t'get that cleaned up," Rogue tells him as she maneuvers them both through the window, herself first so that she can take Remy's weight on the other side. "But if it's too deep, sugah, you might need t'go t'th'hospital." She's frowning worriedly, and trying hard not to.
"I don' wanna go to de hospital." Remy protests, trying in vain to put some weight on the leg. It doesn't want to listen, and he hisses sharply. Maybe if he closes his eyes he can manage to walk.
Rogue hauls him over to the couch with no consideration for his efforts at walking on his own. "Ah know you don't, sugah, but Ah can't fix it if they got your tendon. Pants off." That last is a command; once she gets him onto the couch she straightens, and heads off to get the first aid kit.
"Y'know, I t'ought 'bout you tellin' me dat a lot, an' in all dat t'inking dis scenerio didn't never come up." Remy tries to joke, but his voice is strained a best. He'll plop right onto the couch, lifting himself just long enough to squirm out of the jeans, before he's sitting down again and squeezing his eyes shut briefly. He's probably bleeding onto the couch.
"Yeah, yeah," Rogue drawls sardonically, and vanishes into the other room. When she returns, hauling his oversized first aid kit, her voice is gentler. "Just hold still, an' let me get this cleaned up." First order of business is to see how deep the wound is. Even if the hamstring isn't damaged, he may still need stitches.
The cut follows the curve of Remy's leg, along the inside, and while it's deep enough to effect the way the Cajun can move the leg, the most essential parts have been left unsevered--if the hamstring had been cut, it's doubtful Gambit would have been able to move the leg at all. The cut is nasty, however, jagged-edged and dirty. The knife the streetpunk was carrying wasn't exactly sanitary.
That much, at least, Rogue can do something about. Anaesthetic first, and she covers a couch cushion with a towel to put under his leg while she waits for the numbing to kick in. She's already replaced her gloves with sanitary latex ones, but she wipes the fingers down with antiseptic anyhow, as much to have something to do while she waits for the anaesthetic to do its work as anything else.
"Y'know, anybody else an' dat'd look pretty damn intimidating." Remy says, his voice a little ragged around the edges. In the better light, it will become clear that he's lost a little more blood than is entirely healthy, during the fight, and subsequently he's hooding his eyes a little drunkenly. "Had a dream, de ot'er night."
"Yeah?" She says it lightly, but her frown deepens, and after a glance up to his face Rogue sets to work cleaning and disinfecting the wound as best she can. "What about?"
Remy is talking as much to keep himself awake as to relate the story to Rogue. "You was in a tower," He says, sleepily and vaguely amused, half-watching Rogue as she attends to the injury. "Like Rapunzel, hien? An' dere was a *big ass* lock on de bottom. Dunno why I didn' jus' pick de damn t'ing."
Rogue smiles a little in spite of herself. "Don't tell me you went an' climbed up my hair like in th'fairy tale," she says, not looking up from the task at hand.
"Non, dere was dis homme at de bottom dat wanted me to do 'bout a t'ousand diff'rent t'ings. I was all suited up in armor, see. An' every time I go ridin' off to do somet'in' for him, an' come ridin' back, he got somet'in' else for me to do." Remy gestures languidly with one hand; the muscles Rogue attends to flutter with something like protest, but the Cajun doesn't seem to notice. "Fin'lly I get to de point at which I don't wanna do his gopherin' no more, an' a hit him wit' de big stick t'ing. Which point you jus' fly right outta de window you been watchin' an' tell me was about time I grew a spine."
"Yeah," says Rogue, on a little bit of a laugh, "sounds 'bout right. Like Ah need someone guardin' me in some kinda ivory tower. You shoulda known better, sugah." She says it lightly, as though to distract him from the fact that she's cleaning out the slash in his leg.
Remy eyes the top of Rogue's head dubiously before waving his hand again. "Hey, I was tryin' to get you out. Next time, I jus' tell you to get de hell down here already. Get right to de ridin' off into de sunset." He's probably glad he can't feel anything right about there.
Very, very glad. On the bright side, though, she's almost done. "Ah think this is gonna need stitched up," she tells him, more serious now. "Th'cut's down into th'muscle." But for the time being, she'll bandage it as best she can, pressing sterile gauze down snugly onto it to stop any remaining bleeding.
"There ain't stitches in dere?" Remy asks, sort of blurrily, and leans as best he can to peer into the first aid kit. "Wisdom made some come outta somewhere." As if he expects Rogue to know what to do with sutures.
Rogue's sigh hisses out quietly through her teeth. "Wisdom knows what t'do with 'em. Ah ain't exactly a paramedic, honey. Ah can try an' get him or Kess or one of th'healers in here t'take care of it if you want, but... You lost a lotta blood, Remy, an' Ah don't know what t'do for that, either. You gotta see *somebody.*"
The expression that passes over the Cajun's face is distinctly surly, in its droopy sleepy way. "Dunwanna go see nobody. My own stupid fault I got hit anyway." Remy's eyes slide away from Rogue, over to the wall.
"Too fuckin' bad," Rogue answers bluntly, finishing off the bandage with a last little tug. "You're gonna see somebody. F'Ah can't get anyone on th'phone, Ah'll haul you over my shoulder t'th'hospital, an' don't think Ah can't."
"I'll dissolve de ass right outta your pants." Remy surls, staring down at his leg now that it's bandaged. "'M pretty sho' dat'd hurt if it wasn't numb. Teach me to get my leg outta de way, eh?" Vaguely, he pulls a hand free from the back of the couch to poke at his thigh.
Rogue smacks gently at his hand. "Don't poke it, Ah just got it wrapped up, an' you don't need t'be losin' any more blood. You behave yourself while Ah try an' make some calls. F'Ah can't get anybody, you're goin' t'th hospital f'ah have t'knock you out t'get you there."
"Hrmph." Remy crosses his arms beneath his chest, again staring off to the side. "Can *feel* my dignity drainin' away." At least he had on clean underwear. Staring at the wall turns into picking at the lint on his boxers, trying to ignore the bandages around his leg.
"*What* dignity," Rogue counters, before she picks herself up and heads for the phone.
"HARRUMPH!" Remy says, louder this time, before he's slouching more on the couch. He's probably the worst invalid ever.
It takes some digging around in Remy's emergency numbers, and several no-answers, before Rogue finally gets around to dialing Ria's number. She leans against the frame of the kitchen door as it rings, drumming fingers impatiently against the painted wood and watching Remy with imperfectly-concealed concern.
The Cajun went, at some point doing all the digging, from very obviously surling with his pants off to sort of half-sleeping with his pants off. While Remy looks like he's more or less dozing comfortably, there's something a little more sinister in the way he 'sleeps'; the bandages are not doing the best job at keeping what blood is left to Gambit *in* him, and he's losing a bit more with every moment that slips by.
It's the second time in a week that Ria's been dragged out after settling in for the evening. Thankfully for all concerned, all she'd had planned for tonight was settling into bed with a tub of popcorn and the complete DVD set of Lord of the Rings. MmmmmElves. Pausing the movie, she snatches up the phone and tucks it between her ear and her shoulder. "Yeah? Who, what, where?" Please, let it be easy. She's only got a few nights until Wade gets back - and she'd *really* like to spend them with the Elves. Which ain't gonna happen if she's not done watching the movies before the man gets home.
At least she *answered.* "Uh, Ria?" Rogue's drawl carries hesitantly across the line. "This is Rogue. Listen, Ah hate t'bother you this late, sugah, but... Remy won't go t'th'hospital 'less Ah knock him out first, an'Ah don't trust myself t'try t'put in stitches." That last sentence comes out in a bit of a rush.
There's a little flare of red from across the living room as Remy tries to open his eyes a little more and glare at Rogue. Of all people and she called *Ria*? Just great.
Rogue is calling her? *Rogue*? For a moment, Ria can't respond at all, honestly too surprised. Then she's sliding out of bed, giving her movie a forlorn sigh. "Okay. Well - Wade's gone." Which is likely a good thing, all things considered. "But I can catch a ride from one of my kids. Will he hold out ten minutes while I get someone here to drop me there?" She shoves her feet into her slippers. Hey, they drag her away from the Elves, they can take her just as she is.
Remy will just sit here and look mostly braindead, thanks. And muster enough energy to put his hand on the head of the puppy who has made her way onto the couch to rest her chin on his good leg.
"Yeah." After she says it, Rogue pauses and gives him a more critical glance. "He's lost a good bit of blood an' he's pretty out of it, but Ah wrapped it up an' Ah think it's quit now. F'it'd be quicker, Ah could maybe come pick you up..." She sounds a little reluctant, though, not eager to leave Remy alone right now.
"Don't bother." Ria's grabbed the other cell phone, and has it against her other ear. "Manny? Be a doll, come grab me? I need a lift and the boy is outta town. Yeah, yeah - I know. I owe you.. hey, waitaminnit! Who was it fixed up that tattoo you got before your girlfriend saw it, hmm? Yeah.. thought so. Get yer skinny ass over here, boy. Thanks." That phone is tossed to the bed, and Ria's back with Rogue again. "Like I said - ten minutes, maybe less. Manny's nuts on his bike. The apartment building in Chinatown, right?"
"Yeah," Rogue says again, sounding more than a little relieved now. "That's th'place. Thanks, sugah. Ah 'preciate this."
"Not a problem. I'll be there soon as I can." Ria hangs the phone up and sighs. No movie tonight. Well, not for a while yet. It'll take her just a hair under ten minutes to show up, but she does make it there as promised, knocking on the door about eight minutes later.
"Not a problem. I'll be there soon as I can." Ria hangs the phone up and sighs. No movie tonight. Well, not for a while yet. It'll take her just a hair under ten minutes to show up, but she does make it there as promised, knocking on the door about eight minutes later.
Rogue hops up from the arm of the sofa to get the door, offering Ria an apologetic and slightly harried smile as she steps back to let her in. No comments on Ria's outfit. Instead, she says again, "Ah'm really sorry to have dragged you out like this. S'just, after what happened th'last time he was in th'hospital..."
Remy, upon reflection, is coming to the vague conclusion that Rogue is right. He has no dignity left. He's sitting in his boxers and a longsleeved sweater on his couch, and just has enough energy to muster looking up at the door when Ria enters. "..." That was supposed to be a hello, but he just doesn't have it in him. He's a bit pale, really.
"Salright, Rogue." Ria says, her expression sobering when she gets a look at Remy. "I figured it had to be something important for you to call me in on it. Sorry I look a wreck but - I didn't figure it was worth changing, especially if it was bad." Wiping her hands off on the edge of her shirt, she walks over to kneel beside the Cajun. "Hey Remy - just hang on a couple minutes more, alright? We'll get you fixed up, right as rain."
Rogue hangs back, watching from a safe distance as Ria does her work. "Not life threatenin', Ah don't think," she says, "an' Ah cleaned it up best Ah could, but Ah'm no medic. Didn't wanna take any chances with leavin' it."
Remy's eyes lag a little as they follow Ria across the room. "Tryin'," He assure her, and goes to say something more, but it just doesn't come out. The bandaging is around Remy's upper leg; removing it will reveal a nasty, deep-biting slash that comes frightfully close to the hamstring itself and does indeed sever some of the lesser muscles. He's lost a lot of blood, and is still losing it.
"Yuck. What in the hell did this - or do I want to know?" Ria settles down beside Remy, tugging his leg, foul as it is, across her lap. It's easier if she can touch - it works better, and faster. Right now, better and faster look like good things. "Actually - hold that thought. It's hard for me to pay attention when I'm doing this."
The Cajun opens his mouth again to explain--but then Ria cuts him off and he doesn't say a word. By and large, the wound on his leg is the worst, having come so close to hamstringing him. There is the barest graze along his temple, and something knotted at the base of his brain, but the latter has long since been aclimated into Remy's natural patterns. His eyes lid a little as Gambit struggles to stay consious.
Shifting her vision, Ria allows her attention to fall into the pattern. It's a mess - though she's seen worse. Strands, broken and bleeding color all over the place. She starts off taking care of the worst of it, getting the bleeding to stop and the skin to seal over, before she tackles the muscles themselves. Thankfully none of it is that *difficult*, it's just time-consuming. A good half hour will creep by before the last of the outward signs of injury fade away.
There's nothing for Rogue to do but stand and watch, and breathe out a slow sigh of relief as Remy's injuries heal away. Even when the marks are all gone, she hesitates, reluctant to interrupt until she's sure Ria is done.
As he begins to feel better, gradually, Remy opens his eyes again, the focus coming back to the red within the black. He blinks, a few times, before he turns to placidly watch Ria as she works, watch the injury as it fades away. It's all so odd looking.
"Not much longer." Ria's voice sounds different, when she talks from in here. There's a dazed, drowsy quality to it, as though she's both stoned and speaking from quite a distance. There's nothing confused about the way she mends the last of it, though, pulling ripped and shattered muscles together, healing the hurt in them and bringing them back to health. As she finishes up, the last of the bruising will fade - even the injury to Remy's temple will disappear. Then she's opening her eyes, and blinking dazedly down at his leg. It's always so trippy, coming back from that.
The only other time she's seen this, she was on the receiving end, and not really in any condition to notice what happened after. So, after a moment's hesitation, she wonders, "There anything Ah oughta be gettin' for either of y'all?"
"Act'lly...I feel pretty good." Remy says quietly, leaning down to examine his leg. It seems like it's all in one piece, seems like it might bear his weight. If Ria lets him have his leg back, in fact, he'll test just that theory, and reach for his pants before remembering they've a big bloody gash across the inner leg.
Ria is more than happy to let Remy have his leg back. "Actually - if you've got some coke, that'd be great." She tells Rogue, shifting backwards until she has room to stand up. "Nothing too difficult about that - but it kinda wears on you." She's glad, suddenly, that she had Manny wait for her outside. She's going to want a ride home after this is done.
"Pretty sure there's somethin'." Rogue makes for the fridge, opening it up to hunt through its contents for a Coke or something close, to bring back out to Ria. "Here y'go," she says. "An' thanks. Ah owe y'one."
From afar, Bruce grins. I just dumped Death.
You paged Bruce with 'That doesn't sound like that's terribly intelligent.'.
Bruce pages: Well, it seems amicable. :) Lemme know if she says anything in the chat about it.
Remy gestures with his hand, vaguely. "Some regular in dere, an' some Coke wit' lime b'cause Azure t'inks for God knows what reason." A little excursion to the bedroom for sweatpants that aren't bloody and ruined and back proves the leg in complete working condition. It's shyly and behind his hair--and behind Rogue--that the Cajun offers, "Merci, Ria. Beaucoup."
Accepting the can gratefully, Ria shoves herself to her feet. She just can't be comfortable here. "You don't owe me anything - either one of you," she says quietly. She'd like to run away from this, but.. the healer has had to do a lot of growing up over the last few months, and this is just one of those things you don't run away from. "Look - I'm sorry Wade got out of hand before, Remy. I'm sorry for a lot of stuff, but.. you shouldn't have had to deal with that. For what it's worth.. I made some bad decisions, so did he.. but I really *did* believe that he'd walked out on me, at the time. That's no excuse, but.." She shrugs, unable to look at either of them. "It was a mess. A helluva mess - and I just wanted to apologize for my part in it. But.. also, it's done. Over. We're - all even now, if you all are good with that. You need help, you call me. That's what I'm here for." And she'll keep Wade in line if she has to put a god-damned leash on him.
"S'okay," Rogue answers, only a little sheepishly. "Like y'said - s'over an' done with. Forgive an' forget an' all of that. Though Ah hope that if Ah do have t'call you again, it'll be at a saner hour."
From afar, Seishi is amused.
"Desole," Remy says quietly, still using his hair and Rogue's body to hide himself from Ria. "But seems when streetgangs go after poor single mot'ers, dey don't wait for teatime. Next time, I lift m'leg higher." There's a ghost of the Cajun's normal smile, there, over his face. This is really awkward.
"Better you than weepy little girls crying over the fact that they might've accidentally nailed the guy that just 'bout killed them," Ria replies tartly, making a face. "Get my ass outta bed in the middle of the night so I can listen to some sweetness and light wannabe drama queen make sad eyes at Jack Celliers and whimper on and on.." She shakes her head then, taking a long drink from her Coke. "Listen to me - I think I need my bed, and a couple of hours of pretty elf boys to make the world right again. You two okay now?"
Remy bobs his head, fingers stretching forward to touch at Rogue's hip, as if to draw her close and assure himself he isn't in trouble again. "All better. Merci beaucoup." He'll ask Celliers about the weepy girls later. Is he the only one feeling like a total ass, here?
"Nah, Manny is waiting for me downstairs." Ria's smile is a more genuine now than when she came in. "You two have a good night. I'm gonna take myself home. Promised Kess I'd come by the shop tomorrow, and see if I couldn't do some actual work for a change."
Finis!
Chinatown -- Beacon Harbor
All day has been a vicious reminder that, while spring is coming, it certainly hasn't sprung yet; sharp, biting wind has whipped through the city with the taste of snow on its tail, and subsequently things have been a little more quiet that usual, if Beacon Harbor could ever quite be called 'quiet'. Now that it is past sunset, the temperature has only dropped, hovering somewhere around freezing with an only colder windchill, and the streets are nearly devoid of life. Nearly, of course, is the key word. There is activity in one of Chinatown's many alleys, a few blocks down from the light and warmth of Remy LeBeau's apartment. From a distance, it might not be clear what is going on, in the alley, but there is one thing that cuts through the cold, desolate night. It is the angry, screaming hiss sound of biokinetics. Previously, it was punctuated by the muffled sounds of what might have been screams, or explosions. Now it is only punctuated by silence.
Kess works in Chinatown, and so do a few other people Kurt knows; he's here fairly often, and half the time it's to visit Remy. He teleports into the street near Greenwood Properties and almost immediately, his head whips around at the sound of biokinetics. "Remy!" he shouts, and drops to all fours, bounding at full gallop towards the alley. "Remy!"
Rogue is another one of the people who works in Chinatown; she's just stepping out of Ogori's, tugging her coat snugly around her nice working clothes against the biting wind, when Kurt takes off shouting only a few blocks away. That's enough to get her attention even if she *hadn't* heard the distinctive noise of Remy's power, and her head snaps up sharply. Not bothering to call out, she leaps into flight, soaring down along the roadway to catch up with the German.
The alleyway, they will find, is a little crowded; there must be almost twenty young men, thugs of some sort or another, huddled around the dead end, hands filled with chains and crowbars, knives and maybe even a gun or two. They're all focused away from the entrance of the alley, and it shouldn't take long to figure out why. Huddled against the brick wall and whimpering for mercy is a young mother, her dress dirtied and ripped, bowed over a small child as if to protect him. The only thing that stands between the crowd and the poor woman is Remy himself, teeth gritted in an angry grimace, staff in one hand, cards in the other, and both glowing with his distinct power. Alone, he might have been able to get out of the situation--but he has innocents he can't surrender to the men, and there's just enough of them that giving his full attention to the fight would sacrfice the woman and the child. He's only in street clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt, but he isn't putting his weight evenly over his feet and there's blood trickling down the side of his face. One more flight of cards keeps the crowd at the edge of Gambit's range, but eventually even he will run out of things to throw.
The crowd brings Kurt to a moment's halt. He doesn't know Rogue is on the way - he only knows this is going to get nasty before it gets better. His hesitation is brief, though, and he launches himself forward again, teleporting to just behind the crowd and grabbing at the nearest boy, then teleporting again to reappear above the thugs and drop their compatriot on their heads. Another jump takes him to the fire escape and he roars at the boys, fangs bared, eyes glowing brightly as his tail lashes the metal.
"Oh *hell* no," Rogue hisses through her teeth, and pours on speed until she's slicing through the air like a rocket. She hits the crowd in Kurt's wake, diving down to skim a few feet over the pavement, the better to plow through the mass of people like a bowling ball through an array of pins and dig a furrow straight through the mob.
Chaos erupts at the arrival of Kurt and Rogue; some of the men turn, shouting derogatory words in fear and anger, and others press closer towards Gambit and the pair he has hidden behind him. The teleported man screams louder than the rest as he falls back into the crowd, tangling with some of his fellows, and just as Rogue hits the mob someone's gun goes off. Bricks just to the right of Remy's head explode in a shower of packed clay, where the bullet buries itself, and Remy only has a wordless shout to offer as he lays one of the frontmost men down with another flight of cards. He isn't moving away from the woman or her son, and only part of that may be because of a sense of duty. The man with the gun staggers back to his feet only to aim at the hissing devil on the balcony "God-damn meta freaks!"
The woman and her son. Kurt can help them. He ignores the insult flung his way, and times another teleport to land beside the woman and the child. "Please," he says, desperately, shedding his fierce aspect instantly, "I am going to help you." He reaches for her, wanting to touch her; it doesn't have to be a grasp, just a moment's touch will be enough and he'll teleport all three of them to the roof overhead, out of harm's way. It won't be fun for anyone.
Rogue shakes off men like drops of water as she clears the crowd, rising up into the air again and twisting around to home in on the source of the gunshot. She dives for the gunman, putting herself into the line of fire with gloved hands outstretched to catch hold of the gun. "That's enough of that!"
The woman is too wide-eyed, too scared to really move away from Kurt's touch; she instead yelps in fright, curling around her boy closer, and her voice shivers in her throat. "Please...!" Closer up, it might be apparent to Kurt--if he's looking--why Remy's weight is unevenly spread. There's a patch of jean that has been torn viciously along his inside thigh, which mirrors a slash that was clearly intended to hamstring the Cajun. Once the woman and child have been taken to safety, however, Gambit will roar forward despite his injury, twisting to lay another man low with his staff and a third by yet more cards.
The gunman fires once, twice at Rogue before he realizes it's doing absolutely no good and in a fit of irrationality throws the gun at her, too. Between Kurt's teleportations, Remy's cards, and Rogue's bowling, there are only ten or so men remaining standing--enough of a mob to keep up the mentality of fighting, enough on the ground to confuse footing.
The lurch of rematerialization will likely leave both woman and child feeling very unhappy indeed. Kurt waits until he's sure neither of them is about to fall off the roof, then makes his way to the edge and looks down. He doesn't have another teleport in him. Instead he goes over the roof, slinking down the wall in shadow. When he gets a chance he'll tackle another of the fighters, trying more to confuse than to really hurt.
Rogue loves when they do that. The gun actually smacks her square in the face, but she catches it as it drops with only a little fumbling and crushes it into postmodern sculpture between her hands as she pulls up from her flying charge. With the gun disposed of, she loops back enough to place herself at Gambit's side, and lashes out with her fists at anyone who comes too close.
The guy who threw explosives was bad enough, but now they've got the guy with the boom, some sort of pet demon, and a girl who crumples guns like cardboard. There's two that peel out right away, a third who's tackled by Kurt and goes down screaming like a banshee, and another who Remy lashes the staff against only to pin his head, briefly and forcefully, between adamantium and the wall. Of the six that remain, there's only two who are dimwitted or angry enough to take Rogue head-on; Remy is trying to keep his injured side to Rogue, flight after flight of cards ripping up the alleyway. The other four linger, caught between fight and flight.
Kurt kicks his opponent hard and scrambles free, coming to an all-fours crouch with his tail lashing like that of an angry cat. He bares his teeth and hisses at the men who still look like they haven't made up their minds, his fur bristling. "'Raus! 'Raus! Hau ab!"
Rogue holds her ground as the two men converge on her, until they're close enough that she can duck forward a step and grab for the shirtfront of each with either hand, the better to heft them both off their feet and knock them soundly together. "Somebody," she snaps through gritted teeth, "needs t'teach you boys some manners!"
There's just too much. The men still on their feet turn and flee pell-mell down the street, into other alleyways like cockroaches from the light. Kurt's opponent looks like he's about to turn to kick the German, before a well-timed pair of cards sear before Rogue's face, just inches from her arms, to slam into the man's throat and spin him around so that he lies face-down, motionless. Remy is still trying to move as little as possible, but he is lifting a burning-eyed glare and a snear towards the pale-faced men being accosted by Rogue.
Yeah, that's right, run away. Kurt runs a short distance after the man, furious, then turns back towards the fight. When everything looks in hand he goes up the wall again, wanting to check on mother and son. If he stops moving now he won't start again. "Remy is hurt!" he yells to Rogue.
With a single contemptuous heave, Rogue throws both of the men she's dangling away down the alley after their erstwhile companions. With her hands free and the immediate threat neutralized, she promptly turns towards Remy, reaching out to offer support even as she looks him over. "How bad?"
"Not sure," Remy pants, the charge dying away from his staff. It's the first he's spoken since the two have arrived, and his voice is strained. "Can't see de hurt. But m'damn leg don't want to hold no weight." And it hurts a lot. The injury on the side of his face seems to be nothing more than a superficial graze; it's already finished bleeding and started to scab over, and really only needs a good washing. On the rooftop, the mother is doing her best to clean her son's face--he didn't take the teleportation well--and looks up with startled eyes the instant she's aware of the least bit of motion. They're tattered, but they're whole, and actually in better shape than Gambit.
Kurt peeks up over the edge of the roof, then climbs to crouch on the wall, his expression one of wide-eyed apology. "Please to stay here. Soon will come the police, and I will tell them that you are upstairs. Everything now is going to be all right." He turns to look down at the others. "Remy! I will call now the police! You must go away I think!" The Cajun doesn't like the police.
"Ah gotcha," Rogue tells the Cajun, wrapping an arm around his waist to support his weight. "C'mon." Easiest just to lift into the air, straight up, once she's got a secure hold on him. "How 'bout th'other two?" she calls to Kurt on the way up. "They all right?"
"On it." Remy calls to Kurt, hooking his staff back into his belt so that he can drape an arm over Rogue's shoulders and let her lift him into the air; it's certainly better than trying to walk on his own leg. His eyes are still blazing, and he's trying to ignore the pain as he looks over to the rooftop where the elf crouches.
"I'll...we'll stay right here." The poor woman stammers, watching Kurt while she keeps her son pulled close. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I thought...but he came out of nowhere...Tell...tell the other one--tell both of them--tell them thank you." She's had a little more excitement than she needed tonight.
"Yes!" Kurt calls to Rogue, and waves to the pair of them as they go. He looks back to the woman and smiles at her, careful not to show his teeth. "It's now all right. I will. Stay there, it is safe. I will talk to the police for you."
Rogue hesitates a little, hovering in midair, before she nods to Kurt. "You be careful, you hear?" she tells him, before she starts higher into the air, clearing the rooftops so that she can get her bearings and figure out the direction of Remy's apartment building. She's reluctant to leave Kurt to deal with the police - but then again, with Remy injured...
Remy nods to Kurt, almost invisibly in the dark but for the light of his eyes, and clings to Rogue. Somewhere where he isn't expected to stand would be very nice right about now. The woman nods again, eyes still locked on Kurt. "What...who are you?" She means it in the plural sense.
The question pauses Kurt, crouched on the roof's edge. He flashes a broader smile. "We're just - we are publically-minded citizens. Have a good day, ma'am." He winks at her, one headlamp eye dimmed, then goes over the edge of the roof. He's so tired. The cops better be nice to him.
Rogue offers the woman and her child a quick smile, but doesn't linger any longer than that. With the Greenwood Properties building in sight, she flies away, cutting over the rooftops of Chinatown towards Remy's apartment. Remy's leg needs looked at, and she's very much worried that the wound is beyond her ability to patch up.
The window to Remy's apartment is still wide open, speaking on how exactly the Cajun went rushing to the rescue in the first place. Jolie stands just by the window itself, barking as soon as she sees Rogue. "Damn kids," The Cajun grouses, trying to make less of the injury than there is. "Was jus' too many of dem for me to take, an' pay attention to de femme."
"We're gonna have t'get that cleaned up," Rogue tells him as she maneuvers them both through the window, herself first so that she can take Remy's weight on the other side. "But if it's too deep, sugah, you might need t'go t'th'hospital." She's frowning worriedly, and trying hard not to.
"I don' wanna go to de hospital." Remy protests, trying in vain to put some weight on the leg. It doesn't want to listen, and he hisses sharply. Maybe if he closes his eyes he can manage to walk.
Rogue hauls him over to the couch with no consideration for his efforts at walking on his own. "Ah know you don't, sugah, but Ah can't fix it if they got your tendon. Pants off." That last is a command; once she gets him onto the couch she straightens, and heads off to get the first aid kit.
"Y'know, I t'ought 'bout you tellin' me dat a lot, an' in all dat t'inking dis scenerio didn't never come up." Remy tries to joke, but his voice is strained a best. He'll plop right onto the couch, lifting himself just long enough to squirm out of the jeans, before he's sitting down again and squeezing his eyes shut briefly. He's probably bleeding onto the couch.
"Yeah, yeah," Rogue drawls sardonically, and vanishes into the other room. When she returns, hauling his oversized first aid kit, her voice is gentler. "Just hold still, an' let me get this cleaned up." First order of business is to see how deep the wound is. Even if the hamstring isn't damaged, he may still need stitches.
The cut follows the curve of Remy's leg, along the inside, and while it's deep enough to effect the way the Cajun can move the leg, the most essential parts have been left unsevered--if the hamstring had been cut, it's doubtful Gambit would have been able to move the leg at all. The cut is nasty, however, jagged-edged and dirty. The knife the streetpunk was carrying wasn't exactly sanitary.
That much, at least, Rogue can do something about. Anaesthetic first, and she covers a couch cushion with a towel to put under his leg while she waits for the numbing to kick in. She's already replaced her gloves with sanitary latex ones, but she wipes the fingers down with antiseptic anyhow, as much to have something to do while she waits for the anaesthetic to do its work as anything else.
"Y'know, anybody else an' dat'd look pretty damn intimidating." Remy says, his voice a little ragged around the edges. In the better light, it will become clear that he's lost a little more blood than is entirely healthy, during the fight, and subsequently he's hooding his eyes a little drunkenly. "Had a dream, de ot'er night."
"Yeah?" She says it lightly, but her frown deepens, and after a glance up to his face Rogue sets to work cleaning and disinfecting the wound as best she can. "What about?"
Remy is talking as much to keep himself awake as to relate the story to Rogue. "You was in a tower," He says, sleepily and vaguely amused, half-watching Rogue as she attends to the injury. "Like Rapunzel, hien? An' dere was a *big ass* lock on de bottom. Dunno why I didn' jus' pick de damn t'ing."
Rogue smiles a little in spite of herself. "Don't tell me you went an' climbed up my hair like in th'fairy tale," she says, not looking up from the task at hand.
"Non, dere was dis homme at de bottom dat wanted me to do 'bout a t'ousand diff'rent t'ings. I was all suited up in armor, see. An' every time I go ridin' off to do somet'in' for him, an' come ridin' back, he got somet'in' else for me to do." Remy gestures languidly with one hand; the muscles Rogue attends to flutter with something like protest, but the Cajun doesn't seem to notice. "Fin'lly I get to de point at which I don't wanna do his gopherin' no more, an' a hit him wit' de big stick t'ing. Which point you jus' fly right outta de window you been watchin' an' tell me was about time I grew a spine."
"Yeah," says Rogue, on a little bit of a laugh, "sounds 'bout right. Like Ah need someone guardin' me in some kinda ivory tower. You shoulda known better, sugah." She says it lightly, as though to distract him from the fact that she's cleaning out the slash in his leg.
Remy eyes the top of Rogue's head dubiously before waving his hand again. "Hey, I was tryin' to get you out. Next time, I jus' tell you to get de hell down here already. Get right to de ridin' off into de sunset." He's probably glad he can't feel anything right about there.
Very, very glad. On the bright side, though, she's almost done. "Ah think this is gonna need stitched up," she tells him, more serious now. "Th'cut's down into th'muscle." But for the time being, she'll bandage it as best she can, pressing sterile gauze down snugly onto it to stop any remaining bleeding.
"There ain't stitches in dere?" Remy asks, sort of blurrily, and leans as best he can to peer into the first aid kit. "Wisdom made some come outta somewhere." As if he expects Rogue to know what to do with sutures.
Rogue's sigh hisses out quietly through her teeth. "Wisdom knows what t'do with 'em. Ah ain't exactly a paramedic, honey. Ah can try an' get him or Kess or one of th'healers in here t'take care of it if you want, but... You lost a lotta blood, Remy, an' Ah don't know what t'do for that, either. You gotta see *somebody.*"
The expression that passes over the Cajun's face is distinctly surly, in its droopy sleepy way. "Dunwanna go see nobody. My own stupid fault I got hit anyway." Remy's eyes slide away from Rogue, over to the wall.
"Too fuckin' bad," Rogue answers bluntly, finishing off the bandage with a last little tug. "You're gonna see somebody. F'Ah can't get anyone on th'phone, Ah'll haul you over my shoulder t'th'hospital, an' don't think Ah can't."
"I'll dissolve de ass right outta your pants." Remy surls, staring down at his leg now that it's bandaged. "'M pretty sho' dat'd hurt if it wasn't numb. Teach me to get my leg outta de way, eh?" Vaguely, he pulls a hand free from the back of the couch to poke at his thigh.
Rogue smacks gently at his hand. "Don't poke it, Ah just got it wrapped up, an' you don't need t'be losin' any more blood. You behave yourself while Ah try an' make some calls. F'Ah can't get anybody, you're goin' t'th hospital f'ah have t'knock you out t'get you there."
"Hrmph." Remy crosses his arms beneath his chest, again staring off to the side. "Can *feel* my dignity drainin' away." At least he had on clean underwear. Staring at the wall turns into picking at the lint on his boxers, trying to ignore the bandages around his leg.
"*What* dignity," Rogue counters, before she picks herself up and heads for the phone.
"HARRUMPH!" Remy says, louder this time, before he's slouching more on the couch. He's probably the worst invalid ever.
It takes some digging around in Remy's emergency numbers, and several no-answers, before Rogue finally gets around to dialing Ria's number. She leans against the frame of the kitchen door as it rings, drumming fingers impatiently against the painted wood and watching Remy with imperfectly-concealed concern.
The Cajun went, at some point doing all the digging, from very obviously surling with his pants off to sort of half-sleeping with his pants off. While Remy looks like he's more or less dozing comfortably, there's something a little more sinister in the way he 'sleeps'; the bandages are not doing the best job at keeping what blood is left to Gambit *in* him, and he's losing a bit more with every moment that slips by.
It's the second time in a week that Ria's been dragged out after settling in for the evening. Thankfully for all concerned, all she'd had planned for tonight was settling into bed with a tub of popcorn and the complete DVD set of Lord of the Rings. MmmmmElves. Pausing the movie, she snatches up the phone and tucks it between her ear and her shoulder. "Yeah? Who, what, where?" Please, let it be easy. She's only got a few nights until Wade gets back - and she'd *really* like to spend them with the Elves. Which ain't gonna happen if she's not done watching the movies before the man gets home.
At least she *answered.* "Uh, Ria?" Rogue's drawl carries hesitantly across the line. "This is Rogue. Listen, Ah hate t'bother you this late, sugah, but... Remy won't go t'th'hospital 'less Ah knock him out first, an'Ah don't trust myself t'try t'put in stitches." That last sentence comes out in a bit of a rush.
There's a little flare of red from across the living room as Remy tries to open his eyes a little more and glare at Rogue. Of all people and she called *Ria*? Just great.
Rogue is calling her? *Rogue*? For a moment, Ria can't respond at all, honestly too surprised. Then she's sliding out of bed, giving her movie a forlorn sigh. "Okay. Well - Wade's gone." Which is likely a good thing, all things considered. "But I can catch a ride from one of my kids. Will he hold out ten minutes while I get someone here to drop me there?" She shoves her feet into her slippers. Hey, they drag her away from the Elves, they can take her just as she is.
Remy will just sit here and look mostly braindead, thanks. And muster enough energy to put his hand on the head of the puppy who has made her way onto the couch to rest her chin on his good leg.
"Yeah." After she says it, Rogue pauses and gives him a more critical glance. "He's lost a good bit of blood an' he's pretty out of it, but Ah wrapped it up an' Ah think it's quit now. F'it'd be quicker, Ah could maybe come pick you up..." She sounds a little reluctant, though, not eager to leave Remy alone right now.
"Don't bother." Ria's grabbed the other cell phone, and has it against her other ear. "Manny? Be a doll, come grab me? I need a lift and the boy is outta town. Yeah, yeah - I know. I owe you.. hey, waitaminnit! Who was it fixed up that tattoo you got before your girlfriend saw it, hmm? Yeah.. thought so. Get yer skinny ass over here, boy. Thanks." That phone is tossed to the bed, and Ria's back with Rogue again. "Like I said - ten minutes, maybe less. Manny's nuts on his bike. The apartment building in Chinatown, right?"
"Yeah," Rogue says again, sounding more than a little relieved now. "That's th'place. Thanks, sugah. Ah 'preciate this."
"Not a problem. I'll be there soon as I can." Ria hangs the phone up and sighs. No movie tonight. Well, not for a while yet. It'll take her just a hair under ten minutes to show up, but she does make it there as promised, knocking on the door about eight minutes later.
"Not a problem. I'll be there soon as I can." Ria hangs the phone up and sighs. No movie tonight. Well, not for a while yet. It'll take her just a hair under ten minutes to show up, but she does make it there as promised, knocking on the door about eight minutes later.
Rogue hops up from the arm of the sofa to get the door, offering Ria an apologetic and slightly harried smile as she steps back to let her in. No comments on Ria's outfit. Instead, she says again, "Ah'm really sorry to have dragged you out like this. S'just, after what happened th'last time he was in th'hospital..."
Remy, upon reflection, is coming to the vague conclusion that Rogue is right. He has no dignity left. He's sitting in his boxers and a longsleeved sweater on his couch, and just has enough energy to muster looking up at the door when Ria enters. "..." That was supposed to be a hello, but he just doesn't have it in him. He's a bit pale, really.
"Salright, Rogue." Ria says, her expression sobering when she gets a look at Remy. "I figured it had to be something important for you to call me in on it. Sorry I look a wreck but - I didn't figure it was worth changing, especially if it was bad." Wiping her hands off on the edge of her shirt, she walks over to kneel beside the Cajun. "Hey Remy - just hang on a couple minutes more, alright? We'll get you fixed up, right as rain."
Rogue hangs back, watching from a safe distance as Ria does her work. "Not life threatenin', Ah don't think," she says, "an' Ah cleaned it up best Ah could, but Ah'm no medic. Didn't wanna take any chances with leavin' it."
Remy's eyes lag a little as they follow Ria across the room. "Tryin'," He assure her, and goes to say something more, but it just doesn't come out. The bandaging is around Remy's upper leg; removing it will reveal a nasty, deep-biting slash that comes frightfully close to the hamstring itself and does indeed sever some of the lesser muscles. He's lost a lot of blood, and is still losing it.
"Yuck. What in the hell did this - or do I want to know?" Ria settles down beside Remy, tugging his leg, foul as it is, across her lap. It's easier if she can touch - it works better, and faster. Right now, better and faster look like good things. "Actually - hold that thought. It's hard for me to pay attention when I'm doing this."
The Cajun opens his mouth again to explain--but then Ria cuts him off and he doesn't say a word. By and large, the wound on his leg is the worst, having come so close to hamstringing him. There is the barest graze along his temple, and something knotted at the base of his brain, but the latter has long since been aclimated into Remy's natural patterns. His eyes lid a little as Gambit struggles to stay consious.
Shifting her vision, Ria allows her attention to fall into the pattern. It's a mess - though she's seen worse. Strands, broken and bleeding color all over the place. She starts off taking care of the worst of it, getting the bleeding to stop and the skin to seal over, before she tackles the muscles themselves. Thankfully none of it is that *difficult*, it's just time-consuming. A good half hour will creep by before the last of the outward signs of injury fade away.
There's nothing for Rogue to do but stand and watch, and breathe out a slow sigh of relief as Remy's injuries heal away. Even when the marks are all gone, she hesitates, reluctant to interrupt until she's sure Ria is done.
As he begins to feel better, gradually, Remy opens his eyes again, the focus coming back to the red within the black. He blinks, a few times, before he turns to placidly watch Ria as she works, watch the injury as it fades away. It's all so odd looking.
"Not much longer." Ria's voice sounds different, when she talks from in here. There's a dazed, drowsy quality to it, as though she's both stoned and speaking from quite a distance. There's nothing confused about the way she mends the last of it, though, pulling ripped and shattered muscles together, healing the hurt in them and bringing them back to health. As she finishes up, the last of the bruising will fade - even the injury to Remy's temple will disappear. Then she's opening her eyes, and blinking dazedly down at his leg. It's always so trippy, coming back from that.
The only other time she's seen this, she was on the receiving end, and not really in any condition to notice what happened after. So, after a moment's hesitation, she wonders, "There anything Ah oughta be gettin' for either of y'all?"
"Act'lly...I feel pretty good." Remy says quietly, leaning down to examine his leg. It seems like it's all in one piece, seems like it might bear his weight. If Ria lets him have his leg back, in fact, he'll test just that theory, and reach for his pants before remembering they've a big bloody gash across the inner leg.
Ria is more than happy to let Remy have his leg back. "Actually - if you've got some coke, that'd be great." She tells Rogue, shifting backwards until she has room to stand up. "Nothing too difficult about that - but it kinda wears on you." She's glad, suddenly, that she had Manny wait for her outside. She's going to want a ride home after this is done.
"Pretty sure there's somethin'." Rogue makes for the fridge, opening it up to hunt through its contents for a Coke or something close, to bring back out to Ria. "Here y'go," she says. "An' thanks. Ah owe y'one."
From afar, Bruce grins. I just dumped Death.
You paged Bruce with 'That doesn't sound like that's terribly intelligent.'.
Bruce pages: Well, it seems amicable. :) Lemme know if she says anything in the chat about it.
Remy gestures with his hand, vaguely. "Some regular in dere, an' some Coke wit' lime b'cause Azure t'inks for God knows what reason." A little excursion to the bedroom for sweatpants that aren't bloody and ruined and back proves the leg in complete working condition. It's shyly and behind his hair--and behind Rogue--that the Cajun offers, "Merci, Ria. Beaucoup."
Accepting the can gratefully, Ria shoves herself to her feet. She just can't be comfortable here. "You don't owe me anything - either one of you," she says quietly. She'd like to run away from this, but.. the healer has had to do a lot of growing up over the last few months, and this is just one of those things you don't run away from. "Look - I'm sorry Wade got out of hand before, Remy. I'm sorry for a lot of stuff, but.. you shouldn't have had to deal with that. For what it's worth.. I made some bad decisions, so did he.. but I really *did* believe that he'd walked out on me, at the time. That's no excuse, but.." She shrugs, unable to look at either of them. "It was a mess. A helluva mess - and I just wanted to apologize for my part in it. But.. also, it's done. Over. We're - all even now, if you all are good with that. You need help, you call me. That's what I'm here for." And she'll keep Wade in line if she has to put a god-damned leash on him.
"S'okay," Rogue answers, only a little sheepishly. "Like y'said - s'over an' done with. Forgive an' forget an' all of that. Though Ah hope that if Ah do have t'call you again, it'll be at a saner hour."
From afar, Seishi is amused.
"Desole," Remy says quietly, still using his hair and Rogue's body to hide himself from Ria. "But seems when streetgangs go after poor single mot'ers, dey don't wait for teatime. Next time, I lift m'leg higher." There's a ghost of the Cajun's normal smile, there, over his face. This is really awkward.
"Better you than weepy little girls crying over the fact that they might've accidentally nailed the guy that just 'bout killed them," Ria replies tartly, making a face. "Get my ass outta bed in the middle of the night so I can listen to some sweetness and light wannabe drama queen make sad eyes at Jack Celliers and whimper on and on.." She shakes her head then, taking a long drink from her Coke. "Listen to me - I think I need my bed, and a couple of hours of pretty elf boys to make the world right again. You two okay now?"
Remy bobs his head, fingers stretching forward to touch at Rogue's hip, as if to draw her close and assure himself he isn't in trouble again. "All better. Merci beaucoup." He'll ask Celliers about the weepy girls later. Is he the only one feeling like a total ass, here?
"Nah, Manny is waiting for me downstairs." Ria's smile is a more genuine now than when she came in. "You two have a good night. I'm gonna take myself home. Promised Kess I'd come by the shop tomorrow, and see if I couldn't do some actual work for a change."
Finis!