PI LOG: Kick 'Em In The Head -- Remy and Warren
A leisurely walk down Main Street becomes a close encounter as one of Beacon Harbor's resident birdpeople takes an acception to Gambit's head.
Main Stretch -- Beacon Harbor
It's been a cold snap for spring, and subsequently a certain Southern swamprat has gone back to the ways of sweatshirts and trenchcoats, doing his best to hide from the biting wind that flares every so often and threatens to make its way between the layers of his clothes and against his bare skin. People have more or less abandoned the sidewalks, which makes it easy for Gambit to idle along, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a cup of coffee from the local Froo-Froo coffee place. Remy has his head bowed just a little against the grey sky, blowing the steam off of his drink and more or less ignoring the world around him.
Silence drapes an angelic figure like a shawl over an old lady in winter. The angelic figure would be a beautiful sight to behold, were it not for the horrific color of his skin. A deep blue it shows, easily visible against the shimmering metal of his wings, and the black of his jeans and his black 'I Love Metallica' tee shirt. He swoops down with a slight grin on his face and then suddenly reverses his angle. He touches the bottom of a slick shoe to the top of Remy's head ever so slightly--enough to be felt, but not even really enough to move Remy's head--and immediately says, "Maybe I'll use you for an impromptu drum when I audition."
"Oi!" Remy shouts, dangerously close to spilling hot coffee down his front as Warren's shoe hits his head. "I jus' took a shower dis mornin', an' now you're ruinin' it all! Damn birds." It's a broad grin that the Cajun lifts, however, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he scans the sky until he finds Warren. "Got my present, I see."
Warren loops back around and touches down gently in front of Remy. "Don't tempt me to kick a bit harder," he says with an equal grin. "And if that's your idea of a present, I'd hate to see what you have in mind when you're mad at me." His wings retract with the faint hiss of metal being sheathed. "You want something in particular, or just feel like taunting me on behalf of Scottie?"
Remy's grin only gets broader, before he hides it briefly behind a sip of coffee. "Watch, you get me mad an' you'd get tickets to de actual show. An' I figure somebody oughta harass you since Scotty ain't gonna be holdin' up his end of de bargain." The Cajun shrugs a little, his expression going sly. "B'sides, got de video off a pawn shop for two bucks."
"Cute," Warren says, slipping his hands into his pockets and falling in beside Remy. "Remind me to get you a subscription to Contortionists Weekly," he mutters. "So anything interesting been happening lately? I've been a bit out of it while adjusting to the new job schedule."
"Uh," The Cajun articulates, his eyes rolling up a little as he things. "D'fine 'lately.' An' for dat matter, d'fine 'interestin''. B'cause t'ings been happenin', but I don' know where to start or what you t'ink'd be a good story." Remy takes another sip of his coffee, watching Warren as he does.
"Well, start with the obvious and work your way out from there," Warren suggests with a shrug. "Mostly I'm looking for things that might be considered extraordinary. Major villains, birthdays I forgot among the X-crowd, arrivals of purple-haired ninja ... the every-day stuff at Xavier's, yanno?"
Remy shakes his head, swirling the coffee with one hand. "Not'in' dat big, which sorta makes me nervous since dis city's got a habit of bein' overrun by demons an' zombies an' de like. Ain't seen Psylocke 'round, so if she's here it's news to me. Stole Rogue's powers 'bout a mont' past, now, an' used dem to beat de hell outta Deadpool." All of this, said in a casual train as if it's all, as Warren said, everyday.
About as casual as Warren's not-so-casual hope that Psylocke arrives sometime. "Stole her powers, eh? Isn't that a bit backwards?" he asks with a slight grin. "So how'd you enjoy flying over the city at mach two? And how many buildings did you break learning to control it?"
"Yeah, l'il bit backwards," Remy says, his voice a little distant, briefly, before his eyes slant to Warren again. "Didn' last very long. Hour, or so. I didn' run into not'in'." He won't mention this is as much because he already knew the basics of flight as because the powers came with Rogue's understanding of control. "De look on 'Pool's....mask....was pretty priceless, 'dough." So to speak.
"You take pictures for me? I've got at least a dozen scores to settle with Mister Wilson myself from back home," there's that winning grin of his, blue-eyes aspsarkle. "So how'd you wind up with her powers, anyways? She learn to do the opposite, for once, or was it some kind of a freak accident, or ... what?"
This is sort of a longer explanation than Gambit would really like to get into, and he staves it off with another sip of coffee. "Freak acc'dent. We got 'hold of a t'ing dat was s'posed to damp her powers out, but bes' I can tell is it switched dem 'round instead, so dat insteada pullin', she pushed." Remy shrugs, as if it doesn't matter much.
"Sucks," Warren says, and sounds like he means it. "I'm sorry to hear that." He sounds like he means that one, too. He walks along quietly for a moment or two, not sure what to ask next. "So hey, I was thinking of picking up a few tickets to see a play some time next week. You and Rogue want to come?"
"I'd havta check her work schedule, but if you's willin' to take a coupla ignorant hicks like us to somet'in' all cultured like dat, *I'd* be game. Even got me a suit somewhere, 'dough it's really a tux." Remy will gloss right over the topic of the disaster with the collar given the slightest opportunity, using his free hand to push his hair briefly away from his eyes.
"Ignorant hicks?" Warren asks, raising his brows slightly in surprise. "FIrst off, it's community theatre, so not as fancy as broadway." Warren grins and looks at Remy, then adds, "And second off, if you're anything like the Remy I know, calling you an ignorant hick would be like calling a mouse gargantuan. Sure, it's all in perspective, but somehow I don't think you meet the qualifications for ignorant or hick."
The Cajun grins over the lip of his coffee cup, amusement clear. "You tryin' to make me blush, wit' all dis unprecidented complimentin'? Ain't gonna work. I don't t'ink I'm act'lly *capable* of blushin'." Another swallow of coffee, and Remy's eyebrows go up. "Unless you's implyin' I fall short of eit'er one."
"Compliments?" Warren asks, then snorts softly. "I'm simply refusing to let you lie to me about something so simple. Frankly, you're nowhere /near/ as sophisticated, debutante, and declasse as I." The flagrant boast is accompanied by a touch of his hand to his chest, as though he's a king. "Anyways, the show's a representation of six of Shakespeare's sonnets, compiled into what I /hear/ will be an interesting take on modern love. Should be interesting."
"Wasn't dat what I was sayin', wit' de 'ignorant hick' part?" Remy says, something like confusion causing his eyes to narrow. Warren makes No Sense sometimes. "It's play lengt', but it's only six sonnets?" Now the narrowed eyes are followed with a frown, thoughtful instead of angry.
"I don't know, they're based on the sonnets, not necessarily the sonnets themself." Warren shrugs and says, "I can only guess they're going to expand upon the themes and make a single story which will contain elements of the sonnets themself. I haven't a clue which they're using, though. The play's called 'Of Love and Wisdom,' which would include about half of Shakespeare's sonnets if I were utterly stupid about poetry, and closer to all of them for someone who knows them. I have no clue what they're going to do."
Remy raises his eyebrows as he drains his cup to the halfway mark, before he offers in a placid voice as if it's so obvious; "Somet'in' lovin' an' wise is my guess."
"Wait ... really?" Warren asks mocking astonishment. "Wow," he says, then grins. "I'd have never thought of that." He gives Remy a smirk, then reaches up and slicks back his blonde hair. "Anyways, I just came by to give you a boot to the head and invite you to the show. I'll drop the tickets by later this week."
"You watch y'self, one of dese days you gonna cut y'self on dat sarcasm." Remy warns Warren, pointing with the hand holding the coffee. "D'accord, you know where I live. If Roguey can't come, I let you know an' you can rustle up a t'ird party member."
"Fourth," Warren replies cheekily, "and if I need to watch cutting myself, you must be walking the razor's edge." He winks, then spreads his wings wide and begins to lift off the ground. "Adieu, mon ami. Bon soir!"
Remy grins, lifting his free hand and calling, as an afterthought, "If you's bringin' dat girl from de bar, gimme a *warnin'* b'forehand, neh? Au revior!" The Cajun is mostly hoping that isn't the case, because he doesn't want to deal with the levels of awkward.
Finis!
Main Stretch -- Beacon Harbor
It's been a cold snap for spring, and subsequently a certain Southern swamprat has gone back to the ways of sweatshirts and trenchcoats, doing his best to hide from the biting wind that flares every so often and threatens to make its way between the layers of his clothes and against his bare skin. People have more or less abandoned the sidewalks, which makes it easy for Gambit to idle along, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a cup of coffee from the local Froo-Froo coffee place. Remy has his head bowed just a little against the grey sky, blowing the steam off of his drink and more or less ignoring the world around him.
Silence drapes an angelic figure like a shawl over an old lady in winter. The angelic figure would be a beautiful sight to behold, were it not for the horrific color of his skin. A deep blue it shows, easily visible against the shimmering metal of his wings, and the black of his jeans and his black 'I Love Metallica' tee shirt. He swoops down with a slight grin on his face and then suddenly reverses his angle. He touches the bottom of a slick shoe to the top of Remy's head ever so slightly--enough to be felt, but not even really enough to move Remy's head--and immediately says, "Maybe I'll use you for an impromptu drum when I audition."
"Oi!" Remy shouts, dangerously close to spilling hot coffee down his front as Warren's shoe hits his head. "I jus' took a shower dis mornin', an' now you're ruinin' it all! Damn birds." It's a broad grin that the Cajun lifts, however, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he scans the sky until he finds Warren. "Got my present, I see."
Warren loops back around and touches down gently in front of Remy. "Don't tempt me to kick a bit harder," he says with an equal grin. "And if that's your idea of a present, I'd hate to see what you have in mind when you're mad at me." His wings retract with the faint hiss of metal being sheathed. "You want something in particular, or just feel like taunting me on behalf of Scottie?"
Remy's grin only gets broader, before he hides it briefly behind a sip of coffee. "Watch, you get me mad an' you'd get tickets to de actual show. An' I figure somebody oughta harass you since Scotty ain't gonna be holdin' up his end of de bargain." The Cajun shrugs a little, his expression going sly. "B'sides, got de video off a pawn shop for two bucks."
"Cute," Warren says, slipping his hands into his pockets and falling in beside Remy. "Remind me to get you a subscription to Contortionists Weekly," he mutters. "So anything interesting been happening lately? I've been a bit out of it while adjusting to the new job schedule."
"Uh," The Cajun articulates, his eyes rolling up a little as he things. "D'fine 'lately.' An' for dat matter, d'fine 'interestin''. B'cause t'ings been happenin', but I don' know where to start or what you t'ink'd be a good story." Remy takes another sip of his coffee, watching Warren as he does.
"Well, start with the obvious and work your way out from there," Warren suggests with a shrug. "Mostly I'm looking for things that might be considered extraordinary. Major villains, birthdays I forgot among the X-crowd, arrivals of purple-haired ninja ... the every-day stuff at Xavier's, yanno?"
Remy shakes his head, swirling the coffee with one hand. "Not'in' dat big, which sorta makes me nervous since dis city's got a habit of bein' overrun by demons an' zombies an' de like. Ain't seen Psylocke 'round, so if she's here it's news to me. Stole Rogue's powers 'bout a mont' past, now, an' used dem to beat de hell outta Deadpool." All of this, said in a casual train as if it's all, as Warren said, everyday.
About as casual as Warren's not-so-casual hope that Psylocke arrives sometime. "Stole her powers, eh? Isn't that a bit backwards?" he asks with a slight grin. "So how'd you enjoy flying over the city at mach two? And how many buildings did you break learning to control it?"
"Yeah, l'il bit backwards," Remy says, his voice a little distant, briefly, before his eyes slant to Warren again. "Didn' last very long. Hour, or so. I didn' run into not'in'." He won't mention this is as much because he already knew the basics of flight as because the powers came with Rogue's understanding of control. "De look on 'Pool's....mask....was pretty priceless, 'dough." So to speak.
"You take pictures for me? I've got at least a dozen scores to settle with Mister Wilson myself from back home," there's that winning grin of his, blue-eyes aspsarkle. "So how'd you wind up with her powers, anyways? She learn to do the opposite, for once, or was it some kind of a freak accident, or ... what?"
This is sort of a longer explanation than Gambit would really like to get into, and he staves it off with another sip of coffee. "Freak acc'dent. We got 'hold of a t'ing dat was s'posed to damp her powers out, but bes' I can tell is it switched dem 'round instead, so dat insteada pullin', she pushed." Remy shrugs, as if it doesn't matter much.
"Sucks," Warren says, and sounds like he means it. "I'm sorry to hear that." He sounds like he means that one, too. He walks along quietly for a moment or two, not sure what to ask next. "So hey, I was thinking of picking up a few tickets to see a play some time next week. You and Rogue want to come?"
"I'd havta check her work schedule, but if you's willin' to take a coupla ignorant hicks like us to somet'in' all cultured like dat, *I'd* be game. Even got me a suit somewhere, 'dough it's really a tux." Remy will gloss right over the topic of the disaster with the collar given the slightest opportunity, using his free hand to push his hair briefly away from his eyes.
"Ignorant hicks?" Warren asks, raising his brows slightly in surprise. "FIrst off, it's community theatre, so not as fancy as broadway." Warren grins and looks at Remy, then adds, "And second off, if you're anything like the Remy I know, calling you an ignorant hick would be like calling a mouse gargantuan. Sure, it's all in perspective, but somehow I don't think you meet the qualifications for ignorant or hick."
The Cajun grins over the lip of his coffee cup, amusement clear. "You tryin' to make me blush, wit' all dis unprecidented complimentin'? Ain't gonna work. I don't t'ink I'm act'lly *capable* of blushin'." Another swallow of coffee, and Remy's eyebrows go up. "Unless you's implyin' I fall short of eit'er one."
"Compliments?" Warren asks, then snorts softly. "I'm simply refusing to let you lie to me about something so simple. Frankly, you're nowhere /near/ as sophisticated, debutante, and declasse as I." The flagrant boast is accompanied by a touch of his hand to his chest, as though he's a king. "Anyways, the show's a representation of six of Shakespeare's sonnets, compiled into what I /hear/ will be an interesting take on modern love. Should be interesting."
"Wasn't dat what I was sayin', wit' de 'ignorant hick' part?" Remy says, something like confusion causing his eyes to narrow. Warren makes No Sense sometimes. "It's play lengt', but it's only six sonnets?" Now the narrowed eyes are followed with a frown, thoughtful instead of angry.
"I don't know, they're based on the sonnets, not necessarily the sonnets themself." Warren shrugs and says, "I can only guess they're going to expand upon the themes and make a single story which will contain elements of the sonnets themself. I haven't a clue which they're using, though. The play's called 'Of Love and Wisdom,' which would include about half of Shakespeare's sonnets if I were utterly stupid about poetry, and closer to all of them for someone who knows them. I have no clue what they're going to do."
Remy raises his eyebrows as he drains his cup to the halfway mark, before he offers in a placid voice as if it's so obvious; "Somet'in' lovin' an' wise is my guess."
"Wait ... really?" Warren asks mocking astonishment. "Wow," he says, then grins. "I'd have never thought of that." He gives Remy a smirk, then reaches up and slicks back his blonde hair. "Anyways, I just came by to give you a boot to the head and invite you to the show. I'll drop the tickets by later this week."
"You watch y'self, one of dese days you gonna cut y'self on dat sarcasm." Remy warns Warren, pointing with the hand holding the coffee. "D'accord, you know where I live. If Roguey can't come, I let you know an' you can rustle up a t'ird party member."
"Fourth," Warren replies cheekily, "and if I need to watch cutting myself, you must be walking the razor's edge." He winks, then spreads his wings wide and begins to lift off the ground. "Adieu, mon ami. Bon soir!"
Remy grins, lifting his free hand and calling, as an afterthought, "If you's bringin' dat girl from de bar, gimme a *warnin'* b'forehand, neh? Au revior!" The Cajun is mostly hoping that isn't the case, because he doesn't want to deal with the levels of awkward.
Finis!