xp_logs | LOG: remy and Betsy (Reply)

Remy and Betsy talk about the future on a rainy day.

It was a dreary day outside and looking more like England everyday. Betsy smiled as she looked about the grounds from the back porch, a lit cigarette in her right hand. The rain kept the regular smokers away, but this was the only way she liked to smoke on rainy days that reminded her of home.

"You know," Remy said from his perch, actually surprising the telepath. "Dose things 'll kill you." Remy's damned spatial powers ran his thoughts so fast that it was easy to lose him against the normal buzz of the school. The mutant was sitting on a window ledge, his one foot kicked up against the frame and a cigarette hanging from his lips.

Betsy looked over to the man, standing behind her and gave him a sardonic smile. "Thanks for the health tip," Betsy said, tipping her cigarette to him. "I'll keep that in mind."

Remy took a long drag from his own cigarette and blew a smoke ring out on to the porch, where the thin drizzle quickly ripped apart its cohesion.

"'course. Important dat everyone stays healthy. Lots of vegatables, sleep," Remy grinned. "wholesome physical activity."

Betsy took another drag off her cigarette and snorted out loud. "I'm glad to know you're so worried about everyone's well-being."

"Absolutely. Next week, Remy going to start his areobics class on de front lawn. Cain got his own pink legwarmers and everything." Remy slipped down from the window ledge and dropped on to the patio.

"Oh god," Betsy protested, her right hand coming up to her chest, feigning a weak heart. "I don't need those images to follow me to sleep. I'm sure you don't either." She looked over to the Remy, sitting next to her on her left. "You're a strange creature, LeBeau."

"Funny how often people say dat. I figured dat everyone knew at least one genetically augmented former assassin turned badly outclassed spy operative." Remy shrugged and took another drag. "Maybe it's odd in some places."

"For the states, at least." Betsy added, shrugging at him. "Not so unique back home though. But, that says something about us now, doesn't it." Noticing her cigarette was pretty much done, Betsy stamped it out onto her boot heel and placed into the receptacle. "So, what are your plans for this dreary day?"

"Well, I had brooding on de agenda. Thinking of maybe smoking several hundred cigarettes, and finding forty-seven drinks at Harry's. Yourself?" Remy said with a grin.

"Nothing in particular." Betsy said, noncommitedly. "But you sound like you're in for a long night which will could end up with you being dragged somewhere and taken advantage of," Betsy's eyes amusedly flicked over his form. "Pity."

"Always figured dat it was de other person getting de advantage, chere." Remy said, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching. "Unlike de others, Remy didn't meet his true love withen his first eight hours in de mansion, so I'm forced to look elsewhere.

"And at Harry's of all places," Betsy jested. "I'm sure you could do better than what you'd find in there." She smiled then, pulling back and studying his ______expression. "Unless you've already found something there, of course?"

"Thought dat only Remy followed de soap operas. Dere a reason why you so interested in Remy's love life?" Remy's smile turned into a leer. "Or you getting ready to make an offer yourself?"

"Absolutely not," Betsy said in mock disgust. "When you're a vegetable as many times as I've been, you spend quite alot of time playing catch-up with the rumor mill. Your exploits have been one of the far more amusing stints of this establishment. " She peered a bit closer at his face. "And your eyebrows grew back quite nicely, I see."

"Amazing what you can do wit' cosmetics dese days. Guess I should be flattered dat you spent some much time following my history here." Remy didn't budge, his smile still insoucient. "Dat mean you want an autograph?"

"No," Betsy said with a wicked grin, pulling back with ease. "Definitely not. But, you're quite different from the street rat I picked up so many months ago. That's something, for sure."

"Dey tell me it's the de grooming. And de smell." It wasn't hard to see that Remy was being deliberately flip with his responses. Obviously the LeBeau played things as close to his chest as the old one had. "From what Remy hears, you 'bout de same, chere. Looks like you put on some muscle." It figured that he's notice it.

"So, I'm not the only one around here who pays attention to the little things." Betsy said, rather amused. "Yes, well, that whole eating concept that took me for a spin last year. It was rather hard to nail down in the beginning, but I think I've got the hang of it. And....I've been keeping active."

"Sword drills. And you move different." Remy flicked his finished butt into the can and lit another cigarette. "You on de balls of you feet; pivoting. Dat's a weapon stance, plus de muscle on your shoulders, upper arms." Remy's spatial awareness gave him a very clear idea of how people moved after a while, and he could sometimes pick up subtle changes in mood by how people walked.

"Why...." Betsy said, pulling back slightly, alittle disconcerted by the exacting look she was under. "Thank you," she finished lamely. Betsy was giving Remy an incredulous look and yet, she was still impressed with him. "I've been getting up every morning, practicing. But, it still isn't enough...."

"Enough for what?" Remy leaned against the window ledge. "Correct me if I'm wrong, chere, but you Betsy Braddock. Hell, even Gambit knew 'bout you, back in de SHIELD days? Or was it STRIKE? Never get dem right."

"STRIKE." Betsy corrected, her voice filled with nostaglia. Those days felt like ages ago. Simpler for some reason until she buggered it all with a few unwise decisions. A definite pattern. "I've been out of sorts with the team. There are new simulations, tactics, team rotations. Not to mention that bloody physical," Betsy said that last part with complete disdain. "Our outfit was always undercover. Reconnaissance, mostly. But how did you ever.....?"

"Remember, chere. When you started at STRIKE, I was in your dossairs. A few of us took notice when a supermodel ended up an operative, and even more when you dropped right off de fucking radar. Dat takes skill." Remy smirked around the cigarette, seeing her look. "Dere we people dat thought de whole Slaymaster thing was a setup, and you were still operating in Europe. You were good at what you did."

Betsy nodded through the swirl of smoke. Her finger twitched for another cigarette, but she decidedly chose against it. "If only that were true," Betsy admitted. "Things would've been...different."

He was right. Gambit had been in her dossairs. Psychological workups and physical profiles. Complete SHIELD Intelligence focused on one entity and yet, no one, not even STRIKE's psi-reconnaissance division could pigeon-hole the arse. "It's funny that you mentioned that," Betsy said. "I ran into some old acquaintances while overseas that were indiscretly fishing for my re-enlistment." Her lips quirked at that. "I told them to fuck off."

"Not such a bad idea when you think 'bout it." Remy pointed with his cigarette. "Not a criticism of de team, but you wasted as an X-Man. Dey all small unit ops, while you're a trained agent. Surprised dat Wisdom didn't snap you up de second he hit de mansion."

Debating her use as an operative was something that tended to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. So to remedy that, Betsy stretched over and slowly reached into Remy's coatpocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. "You don't mind?" she asked, tipping the box in his direction, but not even waiting for his approval, she pulled one out.

"As for Pete, that was fairly obvious," she said as she began ticking off the reasons. "At the time, I was still on the injured list. And while I was more than capable of retrieving newly discovered mutants. On the other hand, I wasn't going to chance pulling off anything without fear of worsening my condition at the time." She brought the cigarette to her mouth, letting it hang loosely from her lips. Her hand digging into her pockets for a light. "There's also a bit of problem relating to the crushing blow to my noggin' and my ego."

"Dat doesn't seem to be a problem at de moment." Remy reached over and lit the tip of her cigarette with his finger. "Look, dere a lot of good fighters here. Dat Scott is likely one of de best small unit tactical commanders Remy ever seen, and de pop star is surprisingly good. But none of dem have your training, chere. You got skills dat are far more important den whether or not you can jump over a pit or go hand to hand 'gainst one of de Brotherhood."

"I won't argue on my abilities and the capabilities of others," she said, taking in a generous drag, smiling slyly at Remy. "Or who'd win a battle of wits. But, if the time ever came to help in that capacity again, I'm sure I'd manage." Betsy laughed. "Who'd have guessed I'd be getting compliments from a man I spent a good bit of time trying to get neutralized."

"Everyone spent a good deal of time trying to neutralized me. Paid for a few departments. I bet de unions miss me." Remy shrugged. "So, what if I told you de time was now?" Betsy cocked a curious eyebrow at Remy, who leaned against the rail and went on. "It's no secret dat Wisdom's defection humped us hard. Jake and I are running around and plugging holes de best we can, but it's not good enough. I need more people in de field if I'm going to have de slightest hope of getting us back on our feet. Dey got three teams and a whole bunch of trainees for de X-Men, and not a single one of dem has de background or de training to help us. You do."

"You've got to be joking!" Betsy laughed increduously at him, her eyes lighting up with mirth. "Oh, that is rich. Who put you up to this? Cain? Nate?"

"Remy dead serious, chere. I can't outmanouver Pete Wisdom and de Hellfire Club, watch Magneto, set up an entirely new intelligence net and monitor for new threats at the same time by myself. Even if Xavier wave his magic brain and make things better, we still too short handed and strung out to do dis right." There was only the professional in Remy's voice, all the bullshit charm and swamp pigdin wiped away. "But I can't force you if you don't think dat you up to it, or tell Xavier dat I need one of his X-Men."

Betsy chewed on her inner cheek for a moment. She thought ruefully on his situation and what it would entail. Remy's tone denoted that he was serious and needed help now and while helping him wouldn't solve his manpower issue, it'd help him significantly. And she realized that the option for re-enlistment with the team would always be there. Besides, Scott made it clear that she'd have to work at returning, of course, to ensure she was no longer a liability.

This was another option. A way to affect change on a grand scale, even if covertly. "I'll think about it," Betsy said, non-commitedly. "You have a timeframe I have to work with? A deadline?"

"Frankly, Remy needed you yesterday. Look, I'm supposed to met wit' de Professor in a few days, update him on de state of intel and what I'm supposed to do about it. Let me know by den, and I'll ask him." Remy pitched his butt into the smoke can with a light purple flare, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You let me know."

Betsy watched him go. "Yuushuu no Bi o Kazaru," she whispered to herself, her eyes dragging back across the damp, gray sky. Well, if she left this plane of existence, she'd rather go out with a
bang than fade away. Betsy snorted, bringing the cigarette back to her lips and drinking in its' contents.

Life-changing decisions should never be made while the sun was out.