PI LOG: Travel Plans -- Remy and Rogue
As the Day of Atonement Attempts draws near, Remy finds himself falling more and more into somber, unflattering thoughts. Even Rogue's presence can't completely chase the clouds away, although it does quite a bit of good for the Cajun.
May is supposed to be a month of life and renew, when spring really takes hold of the weather and people stand up and notice that hey, they're still alive after all this time. It's the time of romantic poets and idyllic orchestral scores--and of Angst, if you're Remy LeBeau. Ever since the tender age of eighteen, Remy has more or less hated May, and all the things it reminds him of, not the least of which being how much he hates himself. On the end of the couch the Cajun has placed a satchel full of small white votive candles, but right now he stands on his fire escape in the cool spring air, leaning on the railing with his head full of thoughts and a newly-opened can of beer dangling carelessly from his fingers.
Rogue knows now what she didn't know this time last year, the significance of the month to Remy and the very good reasons he has to dislike it. But having the information and putting it to use are two different things, and it hasn't yet quite occurred to Rogue what must be on the Cajun's mind as she comes gliding in from the sky above, light as a bit of dandelion fluff on the cool breeze.
Remy looks up at Rogue descends, his bright eyes caught by her motion, and he affords her a smile that's a little more muted than usual, swirling the can with his wrist without, apparently, meaning to take a drink from it. "Hey, you." The Cajun says as soon as she's within earshot, scooting over to the side to make enough room for her to land. Through the window, she might be able to see Jolie sprawled in front of the couch, asleep.
"Hey, yourself," Rogue answers lightly, settling down for a landing and promptly turning to sling a companionable arm around Remy. "You all right, sugah? You're lookin' a little down."
"Jus' dat time of year, I guess." Remy admits, rather than hide it from her as he has for so, so long--which may speak on just how much it still bothers him, perhaps. He offers her the can of beer as if he thinks she might want it; from the smell of him, this is the first one, and he can't be more than three or four sips into it.
Rogue accepts the can from him and takes a little sip from it, but she's more interested in watching his face, her brows drawing together a little in concern. "Anything Ah can do?" she wonders, her voice still light. Casual.
Remy's eyes slip off of Rogue almost as if he can't bear to keep them there, and he looks out over the skyline instead, the barest hint of a frown touching at his face. "I'll need anot'er ride to N'Yawrk soon. Promise dis time I won' disappear on you." The Cajun says, a little huskily, before he looks down at his hands as he spreads them, empty, into the air. He doesn't pause long before he continues. "Y'know, I been t'inkin'. It'd be a shame if we didn't take advantage of dis lull, whatever's brough' it on."
"Yeah?" The idea has Rogue's brows lifting, and a more serious expression comes over her face as, a little belatedly, she remembers what it is that's occupying Remy's thoughts lately. "Well," she says slowly, "if you ain't gonna ditch me this time, Ah don't see why I couldn't fly you on over there..."
The Cajun shakes his head, still looking at his hands instead of Rogue. "No ditchin'. Not dis time." Which is, somehow, cause for more angst. Remy frowns a bit more sharply at his hands before looking back at her. "Coul' go whenever."
Rogue regrets the words soon after she's spoken them, and she shakes her head, reaching up with her free hand to touch gloved fingertips to Remy's jawline. "Hey," she says gently, "Ah didn't mean anything by it. Ah was just raggin' on you, darlin'. What was that you was sayin' 'bout takin' advantage of th'lull?"
The touch, if nothing else, really draws Remy's attention to Rogue, and the Cajun tries again to smile to her without much success. "Well," He says, gradually as if he's thinking very hard about each and every word, "'Lways wanted to show you 'round Nawlins. Mebbe it ain't de one I was born in, but can't be dat different, neh? Vacation'd prob'ly do us good." Or make them want to kill each other, either is possible.
Rogue considers this for a little while, letting her hand drop again as she contemplates it, and slowly beginning to smile. "Ah think that sounds like a pretty good idea. Be a nice break, after headin' over
She does? Remy almost expected Rogue to shoot him down, and he looks at her with vaguely raised eyebrows. "Oui? Figure we oughta rent a car at de very least, since I don't t'ink dat's a trip my ass wants to make on de Harley. Or fly." He mimics an airplane with his hand, thumb and pinkie sticking out. "I know, ain't as fast as you, but I coul' prob'ly hack firs' class an' dey give you booze dere."
Rogue lets out a short little laugh at that, and nods. "Yeah," she agrees, "Ah know whatcha mean. Ah can make it there fine, but it ain't a comfy trip carryin' a passenger th'whole way. An' there ain't no peanuts or in-flight movie, neither."
A little of the Cajun's real personality shines through, there, and his eyebrows lift higher only to allow him to adopt that insuffering, superior and smug look he's perfected so for a few heartbeats. "Non, but I figure de in-flight entertainment's better dan it is on de plane." Remy tucks his gaze after a moment, however, and reaches with the intent to take the beer from Rogue and take a sip.
Rogue lets him have the beer back - it was his to begin with, after all. "Yeah, yeah," she drawls, cocking an eyebrow in an expression that would be warning if it weren't also amused, "just remember, you get too entertained Ah'm liable t'drop you."
"You wouldn' do dat." Remy asserts, his humor warming a little more at that familiar expression over Rogue's face. "It'd take you f'ever to get de stains outta your jacket dat'd come from me splattin' on de ground." There's something almost gallows in the smiles he hides behind the beer can, abruptly.
"Well," Rogue allows a little coyly, "maybe Ah'd miss you, f'Ah went an' did a thing like that." She reaches up to touch his face again, this time just a quick pat on the cheek. "But any case, Ah'd rather take a plane for a trip that long. If only for th'booze."
Remy's eyes go a little sly, his smile managing to linger. "Mebbe you'd miss me? Well, hell. Can't go an' get splatted wit' an admission like dat." He traces his eyes out towards the skyline yet again, and abruptly lets out a funny, soft little laugh. "You an' me'll get plastered an' mock de movie."
"You got a date, sugah," Rogue informs him easily. "An' a ride t'New York an' back, when y'want it. But Ah'd best sort things out at Ogori's 'fore Ah go runnin' off on any vacations."
"Yeah, you don' want to get Michiko mad at you," Remy says, his eyes widening now, straightening a little as if this is the most serious thing they've mentioned all night. "'Course she been naggin' at me for a mont' now to take some time off." As if most of his time wasn't 'time off'. Michiko doesn't *know* that, but the Cajun's schedule probably seems wide open to her, and full of restlessness.
Rogue can only roll her eyes at that, stifling a grin. "Oh, sure," she drawls. "After *you* t'take time off. Ah ain't heard her suggest it t'*me* yet." And while Michiko may not know how much of Remy's time is free time, but Rogue certainly does.
It makes up for the brief spates of very, very finely honed, professional-level Danger he goes through in order to do his real job. Remy grins around the lip of the beer can, his voice honestly amused now. "She t'inks *I* work too hard."
The look with which Rogue fixes Remy is a dubious one that suggests something of what she is thinking when she says, "Ah wonder where she got *that* idea?"
Remy lifts his eyebrows to Rogue, blinking for a moment before he lifts his free hand. "Hey, I didn't never tell her I work hard. Mostly I jus' drop by an' eat all her food. An' when I try an' leave money she hits me wit' a broom. De workin' part was all her makin' up."
Rogue thinks over this for a little while, before seeming to come to decision and nodding shortly. "Tell y'what," she says, in brisk and decisive and cheerful tones. "Under th'circumstances, Ah think it oughta be *you* that tells Michiko Ah need some time off. Since she sure ain't been tellin' me."
Gambit laughs, there, before he gives Rogue a sly look out of the corner of his eyes. "You in dat much of a hurry to get rid of me?" Remy shakes his head a little, amused. "Well, too bad, won' work. I give her big red puppy-dog eyes an' she'll tell me to go now an' take you for 'long as it takes to get better."
Rogue grins back at Remy, not the least bit chagrined. "An' that," she drawls back at him, "is exactly why you oughta be th'one t'tell her. F'Ah ask, Ah'll get t'hear all about my lazy self."
"Hey," Remy says, pointing a figure at Rogue as if he's threatening her. "I like your lazy self. So dere." It made sense before it came out of his mouth, really.
Rogue laughs a little, just a little chuff of sound in her throat, and she bats gently at his pointing finger. "You're so lucky you're cute, boy."
Remy grins, tucking his head a little as if she's said more than she has, and letting his finger drop. "Je sais." That's, apparently, all he has to say about that. His thoughts are sliding maudlin again.
Finis!
May is supposed to be a month of life and renew, when spring really takes hold of the weather and people stand up and notice that hey, they're still alive after all this time. It's the time of romantic poets and idyllic orchestral scores--and of Angst, if you're Remy LeBeau. Ever since the tender age of eighteen, Remy has more or less hated May, and all the things it reminds him of, not the least of which being how much he hates himself. On the end of the couch the Cajun has placed a satchel full of small white votive candles, but right now he stands on his fire escape in the cool spring air, leaning on the railing with his head full of thoughts and a newly-opened can of beer dangling carelessly from his fingers.
Rogue knows now what she didn't know this time last year, the significance of the month to Remy and the very good reasons he has to dislike it. But having the information and putting it to use are two different things, and it hasn't yet quite occurred to Rogue what must be on the Cajun's mind as she comes gliding in from the sky above, light as a bit of dandelion fluff on the cool breeze.
Remy looks up at Rogue descends, his bright eyes caught by her motion, and he affords her a smile that's a little more muted than usual, swirling the can with his wrist without, apparently, meaning to take a drink from it. "Hey, you." The Cajun says as soon as she's within earshot, scooting over to the side to make enough room for her to land. Through the window, she might be able to see Jolie sprawled in front of the couch, asleep.
"Hey, yourself," Rogue answers lightly, settling down for a landing and promptly turning to sling a companionable arm around Remy. "You all right, sugah? You're lookin' a little down."
"Jus' dat time of year, I guess." Remy admits, rather than hide it from her as he has for so, so long--which may speak on just how much it still bothers him, perhaps. He offers her the can of beer as if he thinks she might want it; from the smell of him, this is the first one, and he can't be more than three or four sips into it.
Rogue accepts the can from him and takes a little sip from it, but she's more interested in watching his face, her brows drawing together a little in concern. "Anything Ah can do?" she wonders, her voice still light. Casual.
Remy's eyes slip off of Rogue almost as if he can't bear to keep them there, and he looks out over the skyline instead, the barest hint of a frown touching at his face. "I'll need anot'er ride to N'Yawrk soon. Promise dis time I won' disappear on you." The Cajun says, a little huskily, before he looks down at his hands as he spreads them, empty, into the air. He doesn't pause long before he continues. "Y'know, I been t'inkin'. It'd be a shame if we didn't take advantage of dis lull, whatever's brough' it on."
"Yeah?" The idea has Rogue's brows lifting, and a more serious expression comes over her face as, a little belatedly, she remembers what it is that's occupying Remy's thoughts lately. "Well," she says slowly, "if you ain't gonna ditch me this time, Ah don't see why I couldn't fly you on over there..."
The Cajun shakes his head, still looking at his hands instead of Rogue. "No ditchin'. Not dis time." Which is, somehow, cause for more angst. Remy frowns a bit more sharply at his hands before looking back at her. "Coul' go whenever."
Rogue regrets the words soon after she's spoken them, and she shakes her head, reaching up with her free hand to touch gloved fingertips to Remy's jawline. "Hey," she says gently, "Ah didn't mean anything by it. Ah was just raggin' on you, darlin'. What was that you was sayin' 'bout takin' advantage of th'lull?"
The touch, if nothing else, really draws Remy's attention to Rogue, and the Cajun tries again to smile to her without much success. "Well," He says, gradually as if he's thinking very hard about each and every word, "'Lways wanted to show you 'round Nawlins. Mebbe it ain't de one I was born in, but can't be dat different, neh? Vacation'd prob'ly do us good." Or make them want to kill each other, either is possible.
Rogue considers this for a little while, letting her hand drop again as she contemplates it, and slowly beginning to smile. "Ah think that sounds like a pretty good idea. Be a nice break, after headin' over
She does? Remy almost expected Rogue to shoot him down, and he looks at her with vaguely raised eyebrows. "Oui? Figure we oughta rent a car at de very least, since I don't t'ink dat's a trip my ass wants to make on de Harley. Or fly." He mimics an airplane with his hand, thumb and pinkie sticking out. "I know, ain't as fast as you, but I coul' prob'ly hack firs' class an' dey give you booze dere."
Rogue lets out a short little laugh at that, and nods. "Yeah," she agrees, "Ah know whatcha mean. Ah can make it there fine, but it ain't a comfy trip carryin' a passenger th'whole way. An' there ain't no peanuts or in-flight movie, neither."
A little of the Cajun's real personality shines through, there, and his eyebrows lift higher only to allow him to adopt that insuffering, superior and smug look he's perfected so for a few heartbeats. "Non, but I figure de in-flight entertainment's better dan it is on de plane." Remy tucks his gaze after a moment, however, and reaches with the intent to take the beer from Rogue and take a sip.
Rogue lets him have the beer back - it was his to begin with, after all. "Yeah, yeah," she drawls, cocking an eyebrow in an expression that would be warning if it weren't also amused, "just remember, you get too entertained Ah'm liable t'drop you."
"You wouldn' do dat." Remy asserts, his humor warming a little more at that familiar expression over Rogue's face. "It'd take you f'ever to get de stains outta your jacket dat'd come from me splattin' on de ground." There's something almost gallows in the smiles he hides behind the beer can, abruptly.
"Well," Rogue allows a little coyly, "maybe Ah'd miss you, f'Ah went an' did a thing like that." She reaches up to touch his face again, this time just a quick pat on the cheek. "But any case, Ah'd rather take a plane for a trip that long. If only for th'booze."
Remy's eyes go a little sly, his smile managing to linger. "Mebbe you'd miss me? Well, hell. Can't go an' get splatted wit' an admission like dat." He traces his eyes out towards the skyline yet again, and abruptly lets out a funny, soft little laugh. "You an' me'll get plastered an' mock de movie."
"You got a date, sugah," Rogue informs him easily. "An' a ride t'New York an' back, when y'want it. But Ah'd best sort things out at Ogori's 'fore Ah go runnin' off on any vacations."
"Yeah, you don' want to get Michiko mad at you," Remy says, his eyes widening now, straightening a little as if this is the most serious thing they've mentioned all night. "'Course she been naggin' at me for a mont' now to take some time off." As if most of his time wasn't 'time off'. Michiko doesn't *know* that, but the Cajun's schedule probably seems wide open to her, and full of restlessness.
Rogue can only roll her eyes at that, stifling a grin. "Oh, sure," she drawls. "After *you* t'take time off. Ah ain't heard her suggest it t'*me* yet." And while Michiko may not know how much of Remy's time is free time, but Rogue certainly does.
It makes up for the brief spates of very, very finely honed, professional-level Danger he goes through in order to do his real job. Remy grins around the lip of the beer can, his voice honestly amused now. "She t'inks *I* work too hard."
The look with which Rogue fixes Remy is a dubious one that suggests something of what she is thinking when she says, "Ah wonder where she got *that* idea?"
Remy lifts his eyebrows to Rogue, blinking for a moment before he lifts his free hand. "Hey, I didn't never tell her I work hard. Mostly I jus' drop by an' eat all her food. An' when I try an' leave money she hits me wit' a broom. De workin' part was all her makin' up."
Rogue thinks over this for a little while, before seeming to come to decision and nodding shortly. "Tell y'what," she says, in brisk and decisive and cheerful tones. "Under th'circumstances, Ah think it oughta be *you* that tells Michiko Ah need some time off. Since she sure ain't been tellin' me."
Gambit laughs, there, before he gives Rogue a sly look out of the corner of his eyes. "You in dat much of a hurry to get rid of me?" Remy shakes his head a little, amused. "Well, too bad, won' work. I give her big red puppy-dog eyes an' she'll tell me to go now an' take you for 'long as it takes to get better."
Rogue grins back at Remy, not the least bit chagrined. "An' that," she drawls back at him, "is exactly why you oughta be th'one t'tell her. F'Ah ask, Ah'll get t'hear all about my lazy self."
"Hey," Remy says, pointing a figure at Rogue as if he's threatening her. "I like your lazy self. So dere." It made sense before it came out of his mouth, really.
Rogue laughs a little, just a little chuff of sound in her throat, and she bats gently at his pointing finger. "You're so lucky you're cute, boy."
Remy grins, tucking his head a little as if she's said more than she has, and letting his finger drop. "Je sais." That's, apparently, all he has to say about that. His thoughts are sliding maudlin again.
Finis!