NYC: Dinner Remy/Lorna

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Remy makes Lorna dinner. Lorna gives Remy a tacky gift. They continue to fumble their way through something they still haven't defined. Set Thursday



Remy rather sheepishly escorted Lorna through the lobby and up the stairs. The brownstones, for lack of a better term, still looked like hell. They'd torn up most of the linoleum and started on buffing and sealing the hardwood underneath. The walls of the hallways had been painted finally, but everywhere else there were signs of construction and repair. Remy opened the door to his third floor apartment, bringing her in. He'd specifically made sure that Amanda was out with friends and none of the other 'X-Force' people, as Doug had started calling them, were in residence tonight, in case Lorna wanted to keep their meeting secret.

"It's not much but... well, actually, it's pretty much just not much, chere." Remy said with a slight smile as she stepped into the apartment he'd chosen. True to his word, it was mostly bare. The walls were freshly scraped clean, with a few slashes of different colours of paint to test them. Remy had acquired a cheap table and chairs at a nearby place, and most of the cookware was equally rapid Sears purchases. It didn't fit Lorna, the slightly dingy environment, clean but bare and lifeless.

Lorna looked around and did an admirable job of hiding her reaction. "Well, it's...a step up. In New Orleans, it was like you didn't care. Here it's just that you haven't had time yet." She was trying to think of this as a work in progress. The building had potential, much like the man next to her. It would just take time and care to make things right. Lorna smiled at him, "As promised, a very tacky gift." She handed him the box that had been tucked under her arm. A tall skinny bag dangled from her wrist, the also-promised wine.

"I should warn you. Remy already killed de cactus Cain left." He said jokingly, taking the box. Remy was actually impressed that his hands were steady. Taking her into this place, now? He should have waited. Gotten things ready. Done more.

Carefully he set the box down on the counter and took her coat, stowing it into the closet. Nervousness warred with other feelings; guilt mostly. Lorna knew who he was. It was unfair to think she'd be preoccupied with appearance or the apartment. Still, the discontent stayed, threaded through his insecurities. "If it's dessert, you just trying to show me up, you know." Remy joked, carefully unwrapping it.

"Oh, no. I'm not cooking at all for this. You promised me that I didn't have to." She folded her hands, watching him with no small amount of nerves. She didn't really know if he'd like the carved wood music box but she thought it was really interesting. "It's just a little something."

Remy pulled out the wooden box carefully, as if it was something delicate or fragile. He opened the top, and smiled slightly as the first tinny notes began to play. He placed it on the counter and opened it fully, watching the wooden carved gears and cogs inside drive the tiny toothed wheel that generated the music. "It's very intricate." He said finally, using a finger to trace the edge of the case. "What's de song?"

"The Entertainer. It was either that or Lara's Theme from Dr. Zhivago so..." Lorna shrugged and gave him a nervous smile, "Do you like it?"

"It's nice." Remy said quietly, watching the movements. He didn't really know how to react to it. It was, well, a gift. He'd gotten others; few, and never understood what to say. "Is it a popular song?"

Nice wasn't precisely what she'd been hoping for. Nice was what you said when you didn't like something and were being polite. "Oh...um, I'm not sure. I just remember hearing it a lot when I was growing up. It's just kind of bright and fun, I think." She fidgeted in place for a moment then lifted the wine in its bag, "Do you have a corkscrew? I'll just go ahead and open this so that it can breathe a bit."

"Dere's one on the counter." Remy said distractedly, still watching the movement of the mechanism of the box. He completely missed her reaction, trying to follow the clear notes as they rang and the associated motions. Finally, only the sizzle of the pan on the stove pulled him from the study of it. "Here, let me-" He carefully closed the lid of the box, cutting off the sound and moving into the kitchen to bustle in the traditional cook's prerogative. He passed her the corkscrew as he moved to the stove, stirring the contents carefully and added a dash of cayenne. "You like your food spicy?"

"Not too spicy. I'm not insane like Doug." She twisted the corkscrew in and drew the cork out with both hands firmly on the bottle. Sometimes her mutation was so very useful. Setting aside the bottle to let the wine breathe a bit, she turned and looked over his shoulder to see what he was making. "That looks good. I think that's one of the recipes you brought me a while back." Without really thinking about it, she rested a hand lightly on his back. It was her nature to touch people, after all.

"Dis is Tante Mattie's famous jambalaya. Dey say dat it's so good, you come back from de dead for just one more bite." Remy grinned. "And when you talking 'bout a voodoo queen, dat might not be an exaggeration." He stirred it again and lowered the heat for a while. Lorna's hand on his back was like fire through the thin material of his shirt, and he tried not to let it distract him.

Lorna laughed, "I can't wait to taste it then. Do you need me to do anything? Toss a salad or set the table or something?" She moved away again to lean against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Well, not really much to set." Remy indicated the two plates beside the stove and the utensils. "You looking at de sum total of Remy LeBeau's kitchen. Think dat I might not get dat cooking show anytime soon."

Remy took his cane and hobbled past her to the fridge, where he pulled out a bowl of salad greens and a bottle of dressing he'd picked up easier that day. Outside of that, the fridge was mostly bare, like the rest of the apartment. He was a little embarrassed of the spartan place, with the grungy construction and the ages of dust. Wisdom had lit off immediately, and had settled for sending Remy articles from Martha Stewart over e-mail and referring to him as the decorator. Remy had dark thoughts about revenge over that.

"Don't worry. I've heard from several sources that those shows aren't all they're cracked up to be. The lights mess will temperature and texture like mad and it's impossible to get anything to come out right." Lorna smiled cheerfully, hiding nerves. She picked up the plates and flatware, setting the rickety table. "Maybe I should have brought you a flatware set instead of a music box though. That's a little pitiful."

"You impugning de fine craftsmen at Ikea for dere kitchen ware?" Remy said, mock offended as he placed the bowl on the table. He picked up one of the forks and put it back, amusement in his mismatched stare. "Case you hadn't noticed, dis whole place sort of a lashup right now. Remy considering kidnapping dat Frost and making her live here until de place is done."

"A good thought but then you'd have to live with Emma." It wasn't that Lorna disliked Emma. It's just that she was such an easy target. "I did notice. But it looks like things are at least in transition. It could be much worse."

"Not sure how. De help from de mansion is nice. Watching dat Kitty phase out flooring is a little strange at first. Cain says de place is actually in pretty good shape. Just got seventy years of crap layered on it." Remy limped back over to the stove. "Sounds like de rest of us, neh?"

"Maybe like you. I'm layered with 22 years of marvellous, thank you very much." Lorna lifted the wine, "So do you have glasses or shall we just drink straight from the bottle like the class acts that we are?"

"Unfortunately I couldn't find a brown paper bag at Ikea, so I guess we'll have to use glasses." Remy pulled down a pair from the cupboard and handed them over to Lorna to pour. He turned back to the pan, killed the heat, and started dishing the concoction on to the two plates. "Couldn't believe how hard it was to find okra up here. Remy nearly had to kill a man."

She gave him a wary look, "I do hope that it didn't come to that. You could have just asked you know. I have a list of all the specialty food stores in a five state area. And they all love me." Lorna poured a splash of wine and sipped it thoughtfully, rolling it around her mouth. She swallowed and smiled, "Which is how it should be? Taste?" She held out the glass to him.

"Merci." Remy took a slow sip of the wine, savouring the velvet flavour. "Remy's contacts not dat good." He handed over both plates to her, not being able to carry them both and walk with his cane. Carefully, he eased himself into a chair at the table and motioned for Lorna to sit. "Come on, chere. It's not de best, but I think dat you might like it. Besides, you finally get a meal from me dat doesn't come in a wrapper."

She set the plates down then went back for the wine before she sat. She poured both glasses with the finesse of a master sommelier. "I think this looks absolutely wonderful, Remy. I had no idea that you were at all this good a cook." She smiled and raised her glass to him, "Thank you for inviting me."

"It was either dat or another exciting night of peeling wallpaper. Remy starting to hate wallpaper." LeBeau mock scowled and chimed his glass against her. "Besides, can't imagine another person I'd rather be spending an evening wit', so I guess it all works out, neh?"

"I'm not a fan myself. I like plaster finishes. You get color and texture all at the same time." Lorna sipped her wine. "Is that all you've been up to? Just the interior decorating? Haven't you had time for any fun at all?" She raised an eyebrow at him as she lifted a bite of jambalaya to her mouth.

"Not even interior decorating. Remy just grunt work to get all de garbage lifted up and out. Frankly, de idea of having to make colour choices fills me wit' dread. My current plan is to dump it all on Betsy de second she comes through de door." Remy grinned and took a mouthful, chewing thoughtfully. "Otherwise, it's been mostly dis, and den work. Making sure my networks are reporting, threatening Jake over de phone, trying to get established. You might have noticed dat I don't have many hobbies."

"I'm really hoping you're not backing up that logic with something like 'because she's a woman' or something else stupidly sexist." She took her first bite and forgot what she was saying. Her lashes fluttered closed and she gave the food all her attention, swallowing with a slight moan and a contented sigh. "This is really quite good, Remy," she told him, as she opened her eyes again.

"Dat's better den any reaction I ever got from Tante." Remy grinned. "And no, Remy planning to dump it on Betts because she has taste. Also, she's English and was raised rich, which means dat we likely not going to get tacky stuff from Walmart or something."

"Just checking." Lorna dug in for another bite, carefully ignoring the little voice in her head yammering away about calories and fat and what this was going to do to her weight if she kept eating. "I'd help you if you liked. Not, like, lifting or peeling wallpaper or anything. Just the simple stuff like colors and what you should buy."

"I'd like dat. Betsy can figure out de common rooms and things, and everyone else's place is dere own. But dis room is mine, and I'll be honest. Remy can't think of a single idea for it." LeBeau gestured around with his fork. "Since I've got an office now, I'm not allowed to decorate it in my 'shades of files' norm."

"God, no. Ugh, doesn't that color give you nightmares?" Lorna looked around thoughtfully. "What colors do you like? Black is not an answer."

"Dark grey?" Remy held up his hands before she could throw a fork at him. "I don't really know, chere. Never really thought about it before, you know?"

Lorna just rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, we'll try this the remedial way. Do you like blue or red more?"

"Um, blue?" Remy laughed and shook his head. "Tell you what? Maybe we can figure dis out wit' one of dem colour wheels or something? I'm not good trying to just picture it." He took another bite of the jambalaya, mentally apologizing for perpetuating another stereotype.

"Oh no. I'm just going to start buying things and having them shipped here COD." She grinned. "I'd promise that you'd like them but really, since I don't know I'm just going to say that if you hate them you should pawn them off on Pete."

"You not serious, are you?" Remy said, obviously suddenly confused, until he caught her expression. "Eventually I'll make dis place work, you know."

"Will you? I saw your apartment in New Orleans, remember. As I recall, you'd mastered the basics of white going with white." But for all her teasing, she was pretty sure that he was right. Given time, he could make it work. "How about this? I'll come over next week after you've got everything torn down to the base and you can make dinner again. I'll bring along some ideas for you to pick from to decorate."

"Is dere something wrong wit' white on white? It matches, you know." Remy said, leaning back in the chair. "But yeah, I'd like dat. Have to shuffle a little to get most of de people out of here first but maybe Remy just phone in a bomb threat or something."

Lorna laughed. "That's a novel way to get the place to yourself."

"Well, dey already figured out de box marked 'anthrax' is a fake." Remy took another swallow of wine. "How things going on your big dance?"

"Oh about as well as can be expected. It's a horrible disorganized mess and it'll be a miracle if everything comes together the way it should. Which means that it probably will and I'm worrying for no good reason at all." She'd thought about inviting him. Had agonized over it. In the end, she decided that it was better to stay single for the night. No distractions from chaperoning. There was a tiny guilty voice inside her that said that it would be easier too, if she didn't have to suffer the inevitable worry that people didn't approve. Lorna drank more wine.

"Remy sure dat you able to put it all together. Aren't parties part of you curriculum in Southern California?" Remy said lightly, but he wasn't fooled by her apparently offhand reaction. It was worry, he considered. She was afraid he'd ask about going with her, and didn't know how to tell him no. That was why all the secret meetings and quiet dinners away from the mansion. Once she figured out this was a bad idea, no one else would ever know. "'manda is going wit' dat Angelo. You should have seen her. Like one of dem family movies, all excited and girly. Nearly didn't recognize her."

Lorna didn't roll her eyes at the mention of Amanda. She considered that progress. "Yeah, but I went to a private school. They make us take VIP Parties instead of just regular teenage parties so it's kind of a different paradigm. I aced that AP test." She sipped her wine again, trying to determine if his light reaction was covering up a greater unease. But given the nerves they were both working through, it was impossible to tell. She looked down at her plate then picked it up and held out her hand for his. "You cooked so I'll wash up."

"Course." Remy passed over the dish and picked up his glass to follow her to the kitchen. Again she'd ducked the question. He picked up one of the dish towels and leaned himself carefully against the counter to give both his hands free. "When dey expecting you back at de school?"

She dumped the dishes in the sink and flicked on the water, letting it run over her finger until it was too hot to stand. "I don't exactly have a curfew but I told Lee that I would call him if I was going to be later than the kids'. You know how he gets otherwise." She scrubbed at the plates with unnecessary force, then handed one off to Remy to dry. "I have breakfast shift tomorrow. Nathan stole Rahne from me so I have to do actual work these days."

"I used to make it a specific point to sneak in past Kuk's security. Just to annoy the hell out of him." Remy grinned as he took the plate and swabbed it dry. There weren't many dishes to actually need to wash in any case. "Heard dat Nate recently joined de ranks of de ridiculously wealthy. Elpis sounds right up his alley." Another thing about being a spy; you never could turn it off.

"Yes, I know. And don't think that the resulting security tapes weren't hilarious." Mansion security versus the various intel freaks was a long running battle. "Yeah, Nathan's been busy spending it just as quickly as he got it." Not that it took a spy to find out about Nate's good fortune. A quick skim of the journals would tell you the same. But talking about it was less nerve wracking than thinking about what a lovely domestic scene they made right now.

"Dat's good." Remy nodded, placing the plates back on the counter. "So, de secret dinner pass muster? Or is Remy going to have to have to fall on his spice rack?" He said, mostly joking.
"No, you acquitted yourself admirably. I always tell people that cooking isn't hard and…wait, secret?" She frowned at him. "You're the one who suggested a quiet dinner here."

"Alright, quiet dinner den." Remy said placidly, drying the rest of the utensils. Mentally his cursed the poor word choice. He knew Lorna didn't want people to know about this, and hadn't meant to underline the fact. "Remember what I do for a living, chere. You lucky I didn't call it covert or something by accident instead."

Lorna made herself smile and laugh at that. "If you'd said that I would have felt like I was dress inappropriately. Not nearly enough non-reflective black clothing and the heels would have been all wrong." And considering how much trouble deciding what to wear had given her, she really would have had a nervous breakdown if it had turned out to be wrong.

"I think you look beautiful." Remy said simply, and turned back to put the rest of the dishes away. He folded the cloth carefully and laid it on the counter. "It's getting late. If you've got all dat organizing to do, might be best if Remy don't keep you here, neh?"

Her smile widened, pleased by the simple compliment. "Thank you. Yeah…I suppose I should get going. The kids are going to be crazy, I fear." She remained where she was for a second then pushed away from the counter and started to slip past him to go get her purse and coat.

The brush of her against him was enough to make him tense. Despite all of that, Remy's hands remained on the counter. What he wanted still wasn't the right thing. He took a deep breath through his nose as Lorna reached the closet and pull out her coat. Somewhat steadier, he picked up his cane and limped over to the door.

Lorna pulled her hair out from under the collar of her coat and adjusted her purse on her shoulder as he joined her at the door and stood, looking at him, waiting and wondering and… "Thank you for dinner. I…" she smiled a little shyly, "I had a good time."

"Moi aussi." Remy settled his cane on the floor, balancing his weight carefully between his good leg and the crippled one. The moment hung for a long time, neither of them speaking. Finally, Remy took her hand and kissed the back of it. "You get home safe, chere." He said, his voice low and slightly husky

She looked at her hand then back up at him, taking a slow, shaking breath. "Yeah. I will." Lorna hesitated for another moment then pulled the door open. In split second impulse, she turned back to him, brushed a kiss over his cheek and then stepped out into the hall. "Good night, Remy."