Post by Gambit on Oct 1, 2006 13:59:48 GMT -5
Black queen, red king.
When there was nothing left to do, Remy often resorted to the age-old tradition of simply sitting down with a bottle of soda, a bag of tortilla chips and his favourite pack of cards. Solitaire was a game designed to be played alone.
And Remy was good at doing things alone.
Black ten, red jack.
For some reason, however, it just wasn't gripping him today. There was no sense of relaxation. Rather, the young Cajun was feeling decidedly on edge, which he had never done at Xavier's before. The Institute had always been a haven to him, a sanctuary. But now, maybe it was because the Professor was gone, it no longer felt quite the place of peace and cloistering he had yearned for.
Red four, black five, deal three.
Paige pulled on a pair of low-cut jeans and a gray t-shirt, slipping into a pair of sandals before running down the stairs. She wasn’t sure what she was after but this staying in the mansion business HAD to go. Warren had been so sweet taking her out earlier, but what was she supposed to do with the rest of her day?
Taking the stairs two at a time, she almost ran into the guy playing cards at the little table in the foyer.
“Woah- hey-“ she said, grabbing hold of the railing to stop her momentum. It made the mane of shaggy sunshine-yellow hair fall into her eyes. She pulled it up away from her forehead and looked down at him, smiling. Relaxed and not thinking about it, her Kentucky accent was as thick as all-day barbecue sauce.
“Well hi there,” she said.
The card-player paused in what he was doing to lift his eyes to meet hers. This was hard to tell as they were currently hidden behind dark glasses. However, other signs of approval appeared in his face; in the tell-tale smile, the slight straightening of the back.
"Bonjour, cherie," he said. "Nice day for sittin' around playin' with th' cards a li'l, non?"
If HER accent was thick, you could have sliced this one up and put it in sandwiches.
Oh My. Do they make them ALL this gorgeous around here?
“I guess so sweetheart, if that’s all ya got left to do…” She looked around, smirking a bit. “This lockdown hooey’s got ta go.”
Sliding her hands to those notorious hips for a moment, she thrust out a hand for him to shake. “Name’s Paige Guthrie. People call me Husk, but Paige’ll do fine.”
"Enchanté," he said, taking her hand and kissing it with practised charm and the ease of an obvious gentleman. "Remy LeBeau. Folks call me Gambit. Other folks call me other names, but they ain't so flatterin'."
He released her hand and seemed to consider her thoughtfully for a moment or two. "Lockdown ain't ever been somethin' t'keep ol' Gambit down. I jus' been - workin' hard lately an' figured I'd take a break."
Paige looked him over, rather obviously. Smirking happily at his comment, she turned back to the hall, looking back over her shoulder at him.
“Well. You get tired’a fiddlin with those cards, feel free to harass me any time.”
A slow, easy smile flickered across his face and he pushed his glasses up on his head, revealing his strange eyes. "Now THERE'S th' kind of offer a man like me can't refuse." He tipped his head back on one side, then in a sudden motion, swept all the cards off the table and into a single deck. He proceeded to shuffle the deck as he stood up.
"You plannin' on bustin' y'self outta here, petite? 'Cos if y'are, then how 'bout takin' an escort wit' you? Th' streets ain't safe for a lovely lady like yourself, an' it ain't no skin off ol' Remy's nose t'escort such a belle femme."
Paige turned around, walking backwards down the hallway as he followed. The tip of her tongue touched a canine tooth as she thought.
“Well… not sure how I’d get out, don’t exactly have transportation... or for that matter where I’d go. There has to be –something- around here to do.”
She frowned a bit, curious. “You an X-Man?”
He chuckled lightly. "No, petite, I'm still very much a man, nothin' 'ex' 'bout me." He laughed at his own joke, then shook his head. "Non, I ain't one of th' Professor's finest, never quite made the grade. Too many things t'do, people t'see...or was that people t'do, things t'see...Nah, ol' Remy just a guest here, for now. Is a good place t'come when y'gotta back off th' real world a li'l."
A sly wink. "I got access to one of th' bikes in th' garage, that is if y'fancied gettin' out sometime."
Hot.
Paige bit her bottom lip, but at which part of his quick response, who could tell.
“Oooh. And those are nice machines, Bobby showed ‘em to me. Before he took off and all.” She stopped in the hallway, leaning back against the wall and looking at him.
“I’m game if you are.”
"You'd better believe I'm game, chere," he said, standing up and stretching languidly. "Hope you're good at holdin' on."
A pause.
"REAL tight."
When there was nothing left to do, Remy often resorted to the age-old tradition of simply sitting down with a bottle of soda, a bag of tortilla chips and his favourite pack of cards. Solitaire was a game designed to be played alone.
And Remy was good at doing things alone.
Black ten, red jack.
For some reason, however, it just wasn't gripping him today. There was no sense of relaxation. Rather, the young Cajun was feeling decidedly on edge, which he had never done at Xavier's before. The Institute had always been a haven to him, a sanctuary. But now, maybe it was because the Professor was gone, it no longer felt quite the place of peace and cloistering he had yearned for.
Red four, black five, deal three.
Paige pulled on a pair of low-cut jeans and a gray t-shirt, slipping into a pair of sandals before running down the stairs. She wasn’t sure what she was after but this staying in the mansion business HAD to go. Warren had been so sweet taking her out earlier, but what was she supposed to do with the rest of her day?
Taking the stairs two at a time, she almost ran into the guy playing cards at the little table in the foyer.
“Woah- hey-“ she said, grabbing hold of the railing to stop her momentum. It made the mane of shaggy sunshine-yellow hair fall into her eyes. She pulled it up away from her forehead and looked down at him, smiling. Relaxed and not thinking about it, her Kentucky accent was as thick as all-day barbecue sauce.
“Well hi there,” she said.
The card-player paused in what he was doing to lift his eyes to meet hers. This was hard to tell as they were currently hidden behind dark glasses. However, other signs of approval appeared in his face; in the tell-tale smile, the slight straightening of the back.
"Bonjour, cherie," he said. "Nice day for sittin' around playin' with th' cards a li'l, non?"
If HER accent was thick, you could have sliced this one up and put it in sandwiches.
Oh My. Do they make them ALL this gorgeous around here?
“I guess so sweetheart, if that’s all ya got left to do…” She looked around, smirking a bit. “This lockdown hooey’s got ta go.”
Sliding her hands to those notorious hips for a moment, she thrust out a hand for him to shake. “Name’s Paige Guthrie. People call me Husk, but Paige’ll do fine.”
"Enchanté," he said, taking her hand and kissing it with practised charm and the ease of an obvious gentleman. "Remy LeBeau. Folks call me Gambit. Other folks call me other names, but they ain't so flatterin'."
He released her hand and seemed to consider her thoughtfully for a moment or two. "Lockdown ain't ever been somethin' t'keep ol' Gambit down. I jus' been - workin' hard lately an' figured I'd take a break."
Paige looked him over, rather obviously. Smirking happily at his comment, she turned back to the hall, looking back over her shoulder at him.
“Well. You get tired’a fiddlin with those cards, feel free to harass me any time.”
A slow, easy smile flickered across his face and he pushed his glasses up on his head, revealing his strange eyes. "Now THERE'S th' kind of offer a man like me can't refuse." He tipped his head back on one side, then in a sudden motion, swept all the cards off the table and into a single deck. He proceeded to shuffle the deck as he stood up.
"You plannin' on bustin' y'self outta here, petite? 'Cos if y'are, then how 'bout takin' an escort wit' you? Th' streets ain't safe for a lovely lady like yourself, an' it ain't no skin off ol' Remy's nose t'escort such a belle femme."
Paige turned around, walking backwards down the hallway as he followed. The tip of her tongue touched a canine tooth as she thought.
“Well… not sure how I’d get out, don’t exactly have transportation... or for that matter where I’d go. There has to be –something- around here to do.”
She frowned a bit, curious. “You an X-Man?”
He chuckled lightly. "No, petite, I'm still very much a man, nothin' 'ex' 'bout me." He laughed at his own joke, then shook his head. "Non, I ain't one of th' Professor's finest, never quite made the grade. Too many things t'do, people t'see...or was that people t'do, things t'see...Nah, ol' Remy just a guest here, for now. Is a good place t'come when y'gotta back off th' real world a li'l."
A sly wink. "I got access to one of th' bikes in th' garage, that is if y'fancied gettin' out sometime."
Hot.
Paige bit her bottom lip, but at which part of his quick response, who could tell.
“Oooh. And those are nice machines, Bobby showed ‘em to me. Before he took off and all.” She stopped in the hallway, leaning back against the wall and looking at him.
“I’m game if you are.”
"You'd better believe I'm game, chere," he said, standing up and stretching languidly. "Hope you're good at holdin' on."
A pause.
"REAL tight."
