xp_logs | Logs: Birthday Boy

“How de hell did you forget to mention dis meeting, ‘manda?” Remy growled at the blonde girl, following her up the stairs. Ororo had called Snow Valley on Friday, suggesting an informal meeting to discuss the particulars of their cooperation in finding Marius and Jennie. According to the message, Storm considered it a good starting point to arrange a limited amount of cross training and mission sharing between the mansion and the Center, albeit hidden.

“I could have sworn I put it on your calendar,” Amanda protested. “And I was off with the kids all Saturday, so I was sort of tied up. ‘S just an informal thing any way – I’m sure you can spare half an hour out of your busy schedule and all.” It was a good thing she was in front of him – the grin was threatening to split her face in two entirely.

“It would have been nice to get my notes together.” Remy grumbled, something that was becoming an increasingly frequent habit. He was musing about small and boring American cities to send Amanda to on pointless errands as they cleared the stairwell and stepped into the common area.

It was perhaps an indication of Wanda’s training having an effect, the neat way Amanda managed to somehow side-step, ducking behind Cain as Remy entered the common room. “Actually,” she said, peering around the larger man’s bulk. “There’s something else I ‘forgot’ to mention.”

"SURPRISE!!"

Remy's utterly wide-eyed, slacked jawed look of complete shock was followed with a single sentence in the silence following.

"What de fuck...?"

"So, did 'manda get you involved in setting up dis too, or you just an innocent bystander?" Remy asked Marie-Ange, as she handed him a fresh drink. A lot of people seemed to be doing that, taking his stunned look with bemusement and a little surprise. Despite knowing his background, Remy's reactions to what to them were common events still surprised people.

Marie-Ange gave Remy a saintly smile, and finished the last of her own drink before answering . "Would I have anything at all to do with anything that made you walk around looking as if someone had dropped the building on your head and knocked you silly?" At Remy's incredulous look, she smirked. "The catering is all my fault, and the lack of terribly awful hats. I was insistent that there were to be no awful hats."

"I guess dat means I owe you some money for dat." Remy sighed and took a measured sip. "Some spy I am. My entire office sets me up and I don't even have de slightest clue. I think I need to hang up my tuxedo and my laser watch."

"Remy? You don't pay for your own birthday party." Marie-Ange explained quietly. "You help pay for ours when we have a birthday, but you never pay for your own." She shrugged a little and waved a hand towards the rest of the group. "Everyone here contributed."

"See dat you called de school." He noticed one significant absence, and couldn't just let it go without saying something. "Did someone ask Lorna at all?"

Marie-Ange looked sheepish. "I .. am not sure. I was not doing phone calls. I am not sure who was." She supposed that someone should have, it just hadn't occurred to her at the time.

This would not go over well, Remy considered, although he should have expected it with Amanda setting things up. Still, maybe it was better if Lorna wasn't here. He hadn't heard from her since she'd left him, giving her the room she said she needed.

"It's alright, chere. I'll give her a call later." He took a sip from his drink. "Did you need to bribe Cain, or just trick him here?"

"We have to promise him that there would be 'real' beer, and he wouldn't be stuck drinking 'fruity Euro crap." Marie-Ange joked lightly. "But that was after he said he would be here, so I am not sure, does that count as a bribe?"

"More like an incentive, by dat point." Remy nodded. "Surprised to see Marie as well. I guess she's still got enough of Logan in her head to not be able to say 'no' to a party. 'nough to make Remy get all emotional, you know."

"Or, she came because she likes you." Marie-Ange offered. "People generally do not come to parties for people they dislike." She looked around the room. "Unless Americans are all insane. Which is certainly possible."

"Wit' dat one? I bet on insane." Remy grinned. "Already given her all sorts of reasons not to like me. Good ones, too. Figure dey sunk in."

He swirled the ice in his glass a few times, watching them spiral before speaking again. "Merci, Marie-Ange. I don't know how to react to all dis, but it feels important. Dat's not something dat happens for Remy all dat often."

"Marie is... remarkably forgiving, I suppose. Or tolerant." Marie-Ange glanced over towards the other young woman, frowning a little. "She spends enough time with Logan, she must be." She had no real quarrel with Rogue, but her dislike of Logan was well known, and long-standing.

"I think dat she's likely drunk all de time. Trying to match Logan's healing factor by slygrogging all de time. Seen it before." He winked at Marie-Ange's wry _expression. "So, dis is a birthday party. What do I do next? Preferably something wit' alcohol and no singing."

"Usually, you eat cake and open presents." Marie-Ange said. "Or have toasts in your honor if you are very important, or your friends think they are very funny." She smirked, and looked over at Doug, and Mark and Amanda, laughing at ... something. "Or play silly party games, but somehow, I think... no."

"I think my idea of party games are a little different den most peoples." He said suggestively, and grinned at the look he got in return. "But de group might be a few too many for dat one to work out. Think dat maybe we'll stick wit' some food and go from dere."

Marie-Ange laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I think your idea of a party game is to turn everything into an innuendo." But that was Remy, for as long as she had known him. "Did Amanda or Marie tell you, we made Doug go get the cake?" She said, all too innocently. "The ... ah.. very wrong cake, not the regular chocolate cake."

"De one wit' de muppet dat everyone thinks is so funny, and no one wants to tell Remy why? I'll make sure dat his next assignment in de field involves an even bigger mustache." Remy mused. "Maybe sideburns too."

Marie-Ange laughed, only avoiding snorting out her drink by gulping air quickly. "No... the -other- cake." She explained. "The muppet cake.. I think that may have been Cain. And ... I can explain why it is so funny but it would be easier just to show you the movie it came from."

“You people sent dat poor batard to go and pick up de erotic cake?” The mental image of Doug inside a naughty cake shop flashed in his head, and before they knew it, both of them were laughing uncontrollably, using the table for support. “You know something, chere? You did find exactly what Remy wanted for his birthday!”

Ororo glanced around the room, surveying the assembled guests with a small smirk on her face. How long had it been since she had been to a party? Too long to recall, apparently, but that didn't mean she wasn't enjoying it all the same. The idea of it was even more pleasing - Remy deserved something like this, a gathering of people to affirm friendships and affection. The room was even decorated, which she assumed was the work of someone like Marie-Ange... not many other of the Snow Valley crew seemed like party planners.

She spotted Marie and Doug deep in conversation to one side of the room, and had noticed Sofia slipping in and out as stealthily as she had been able to manage. Which reminded her, where was Remy? She hadn't seen him in some time, and this was his party, after all. She decided to seek him out, if only to see what he thought of it all. She was sure he had some opinion.

Remy was standing at the edge of the party, holding the same drink he'd been poured about a half hour ago, staring out the window. He'd been obviously surprised by the party, and looked like he didn't know how to react. It wasn't as if he'd been avoiding people, but as the natural eddy and flow of a party had picked up and moved the rest of the guests, he'd been unable to figure out how to follow.

"I heard there might be a piñata later," Ororo murmured, quietly stepping up beside him. "Of course, I do not know if I trust half the people in here with a blindfold and a bat, so that may be only a rumor."

"Remy could likely hit it from de other room." Lebeau shrugged. "I'm sorry, Ororo. I'm not dat good at dis."

"There is no need to apologize to me," the white-haired woman said, shaking her head. "I had never thought of you as the 'party' type. But it is still a kind effort on Amanda's part... she wants for you to be happy."

"I know." He sighed and sipped his drink. "De thing she hasn't figured out yet is dat I'm not good at happy. Just relaxing wit' people feels... unnatural to me. I can gather intel at a damn embassy dinner wit'out using de wrong fork or making de slightest misstep, but dat's part of de job. Dis is supposed to be after de job, and I feel uncomfortable even walking up to just talk wit' de homme I shared a house wit' for a year."

He gave her an embarrassed half smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sounds pretty sad, doesn't it?"

"It sounds as if you should not tell this to anyone with a 'practice makes perfect' mentality, or you would be attending parties every night until you felt comfortable at them," Ororo joked lightly. She sipped her drink, glancing out once again at the other guests. "It is just one night. I think you can make it," she said then, looking back at him. "And if you need to disappear for some time, I will cover for you. Just be forewarned I do not promise that the story I make up will not be embarrassing..."

"If I sneak off, unless I've got a willing femme on my arm, Amanda will kill me, cut my body into strips and deepfry me." Remy's smile grew a touch more relaxed. "Non, I should do this. I want to be able to be comfortable wit' dese things. Because ever step takes me a little further away from Gambit, and dat's de most important thing."

He finished off the glass with a gulp, and set it down on the windowsill. "Besides, after not having any one I could call a friend for almost twenty years, I've come to de conclusion dat I like having dem. Dat means making an effort so dey don't want to walk away, no matter how gloomy a bastard I get, neh?"

"You give something, you get something in return," Ororo quoted with a smile. "Oh! Which reminds me. One moment, hold this, please." Handing him her glass, she held up a finger momentarily before turning and heading into the kitchen to retrieve her present.

Upon returning she proudly presented him with a tiny pot, in which rested a small, strange-looking plant. Each green stalk terminated in two semi-circular, glossy red leaves which seemed to be bordered by long, nasty-looking spines. "For you," she declared with a grin, waiting to see what his expression would be.

"Dis is de most unappetizing looking salad dat Remy's gotten so far." He turned the plant one way and then the other, looking closely at it. "What is it?"

"It is a Venus Flytrap... Dionaea muscipula. I have several in my greenhouse, along with some other carnivorous plants. This one in particular always reminds me of you."

"If dat was flattery, you suck at it." Remy said dryly, looking closely at the plant. He'd never actually seen a real one, and was surprised how slowly the 'trap' part of the plant swung shut. "Dat's... dis is a pretty neat plant, actually. Never thought dat I'd every say dat phrase."

"I have reasons, you know," she said, elbowing him in the side as she took her drink back. "It is a swamp plant, did you know that? And it is one of the few unique plants that is capable of such quick movement. It is quite deadly, if you were an insect. And it is also delicate and hardy at the same time... very interesting."

"Remy guessing dat's what you see in it? Almost tempted to call it Tante, but she'd know. She always knows, and Remy don't need to get my teeth slapped out of my head." LeBeau grinned, ducking into his room and putting the plant carefully down on the coffee table. "Merci, chere. I'll take de bug-eating plant as a compliment."

"Good," Ororo said, satisfied. "It was intended as such. Give it plenty of light and water and it will flourish." She flashed him a smile, finishing her drink and then leaning in to hug him all in one smooth motion. "Happy Birthday, Remy."

There was one person he didn't expect to see here. His last meeting with Marie hadn't gone over all that well. The truth was that he had been impressed with her, the job they'd done together. But when she'd shown up at his office, asking about Magneto with the obvious intent, he'd smacked her down hard. He thought she was a decent person, someone with the real nature of a hero inside. He didn't want to see her ruin that.

Which didn't make for comfortable small talk. "Salut, Marie. It was good of you to come."
Marie nodded at Remy, a stiff smile on her face. In truth, she was only there because Amanda had asked her. It had been good to see her friend planning something with a smile after learning about Manuel and she had wanted to encourage that in any way she could. She hadn't thought Remy would really want to see her after their last encounter, or maybe it was more that she didn't want to face him. "Ah guess Ah haven't officially wished you a happy birthday yet. Enjoying the party?" Oh yeah, real smooth Rogue.

"Never had on before. Trying to figure it out." He said. Surprisingly, he did look a little nervous, something that she hadn't seen before. "How 'bout you?"

She looked at him, a bit of surprise entering her expression. Remy, who didn't flinch in front of Sabretooth was looking tense at a birthday party? "Not too much to figure out. People give you presents. Someone usually takes a couple embarrassing pictures of you in a party hat. And there's cake." No matter how many times she heard it, she just couldn't imagine a life without birthday parties. Her parents... She stopped the thought before it could form. She wasn't going there tonight. "It's nice to be doing something, well, normal for lack of a better word."

"You know, normal for me is sitting out on some window ledge, trying to figure out de best way around de security system to get a clear line of sight." Remy gave a little shrug. "Guess dat's why I'm not really sure 'bout what to do here."

"Ah guess it's always about perspective," she said. Marie glanced around at the other people at the party. "These type of things are just about getting together with the people who you're close to, who you care about...and about celebrating what you've done in the past year." She had almost said 'in your life' but had thought it better to amend her wording to better fit Remy.

"Something to think 'bout." Remy nodded. Marie was remarkably stable about all of this. Most people had issues with his past, but she at least seemed able to look past it in general. He pointed to her glass. "It looks like you need another drink. I know dat I do."

"Another birthday thing. There are never too many drinks," she said. She bit her lip, thinking something over, as they walked over to where someone had set up a makeshift bar. "Can Ah ask you something?"

"I think dat I can answer a few things tonight. Unless you propositioning me, and while you're pretty, you just not my type, chere." He said as a joke while he topped up both of their glasses.
Marie couldn't resist batting her eyelashes at Remy with an obviously fake simpering expression before a smile broke out over her face. "If I start propositioning you, it means one of the other folks in my head has taken over." She very purposefully did not say which voice and quickly moved on, her tone growing quiet and a bit more serious as she glanced over at the blonde witch on the other side of the party. "How's Amanda doing?"

"Depends on de day you ask." Remy quelled his initial urge to make a cheap joke, instead taking a sip from the drink before going on. "She's upset, and part of her feels responsible. Dat's something dat she won't tell anyone, but I know how she thinks. She always thought dat somehow, if she tried hard enough, Manuel would actually change. I don't think dat she's ever really gotten over de fact dat he didn't, even more den de relationship itself."

"You can only change someone who wants to change," was her sad reply. She had never had the issues most people had with Manuel, but he'd never seemed like he wanted to be much different than he was. She swirled the few bits of ice around in her glass, staring at the liquid swishing around. "Ah'm sorry, your party isn't exactly the best place to be askin' such questions. Ah just worry about her." She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "Now insert something witty and light-hearted here to change the mood," she said with half a smile.

"You asking me for dat? Boy, did you choose de wrong person?" Remy grinned over his glass. His next words were more sober, serious but not grim. "I'm glad dat you here for her. Dat femme needs people, and too often, dat's been used against her. Or she's gotten caught up wit' de people dat make life a little difficult. Case in point."

"Not like any of us makes life particularly easy," she said with a slight lift of an eyebrow. " We all seem to be trouble magnets, some of us are just more magnetized is all. And Amanda deserves good friends. She's one of the best ones Ah've got."

"Dat's good. She needs someone like you. Besides," Remy paused for a second, his grin turning sharper and villainous. "you need someone like her. Keep you from getting too honest, neh?"

That got a very unladylike snort from Marie. "We wouldn't want that, now would we?" She took another sip of her drink, relaxing slightly. "So how many candles are there going to be on that cake of yours Remy? Forty? Fifty?" she teased.

"Enough dat we going to need a fire extinguisher, but thank's for reminding me." Remy said dryly, walking towards the table. Despite his age, he still looked closer to her age than, say, Nate's. "At least I still look pretty, chere."

"Sugah, you just the purtiest gal at the ball," she drawled. Following him, a wide grin spread across her face. "So you've never had the pleasure of the birthday song either, have you?" she asked. Somehow, the idea of all of them singing to Remy amused her greatly. With some of their voices, it would be pretty close to torture.

"I'm just glad dat I already figured out an escape route." He said, as they reached the table.

Seeing that Remy had escaped to a quiet corner during the party, Wanda promptly followed, gift held behind her back. She grinned at him when she reached him, having dodged yet another person trying to feed her cake.

"Happy birthday," she told him.

"Merci. I'd tip my ugly paperhat to you, except dat Marie-Ange was nice enough to ensure dat dere are no ugly paperhats for today." He looked at the party with a strange expression, both apprehensive and touched at the same time. The common thread had been Remy's surprise wasn't just due to the fact that he hadn't seen it coming, but also that he'd never done it before.

"I think she threatened to kill anyone with an ugly paperhat if one made an appearance here. Knowing Marie-Ange, I do believe if anyone could kill someone with one of those, it would be her." Bringing out the package--with an amazing lack of bows and frilly wrapping paper--from her back Wanda handed it. "Here you are."

Remy took it gingerly, as if he was afraid it was about to explode or something. Seemed like getting gifts was in the same category as birthday parties for the Cajun. "I know enough not to ask what it is before unwrapping it. I've been studying." He picked at the paper.

"Ooh, you can be taught," Wanda laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "I hope you like it because I certainly can't return it."

"You got me a biological weapon? Dat's so sweet, chere." He joked as he pulled away the wrapping. He smiled as he saw the label of the Jim Beam's Distiller's Masterpiece, one of his favourite bourbons. Wanda had overspent. However, his smile turned to confusion as he finished unwrapping the package, to see a stuffed animal holding on to the neck of the bottle.

Wanda didn't even bother to not try to laugh. "It's a monkey, Remy," she said. "A spider monkey, actually. In a trench coat." She gave him a mock serious look. "Do you realize how many children I disturbed in the Build-A-Bear Factory by cackling madly as I painted his eyes red? I can't ever thank you enough for that..."

When she'd gone shopping for Remy, she'd wanted to get him a small gag gift and the conversation to Amanda about him reminding her of a spider monkey in the jungle had come rushing back.

His look to Wanda had been one of surprise, and then turned to the traditional 'she's crazy' as she explained. He held up the bottle with the monkey on it, turning him around and peering at him. Finally, and with great dignity, he spoke.

"I'm no where near dat hairy, you know."

"Of course not," Wanda soothed, smothering her laughter. "It would have just been a pain in the butt to try and shave him. I like you but not that much."

"Well, shaving a stuffed animal is a little above and beyond de normal duties." He put the bottle down on the end table that held a collection of his other gifts. "Merci, Wanda. I appreciate it. Truly."

"You're very welcome. It was nice being able to give you a surprise like this. Apparently there is digital evidence of the look of surprise on your face when you came in, though I'm certainly not saying who has the camera." Wanda tried for innocent but it never really came through.

Remy sighed, knowing that by the next work day, it would be up on people's screen savers or something thanks to Doug. "I figured dat was going to happen. Been told dese things are part celebration, part embarrassment. At least no one crazy enough to try and spank de assassin, neh."

"Oh, it is still early yet," Wanda laughed. "And the plus side to birthday parties is cake for breakfast the day after. And lunch and possibly dinner considering the size of that thing. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm not sure. It's all too new, you know?" He said a little sheepishly. "I'm glad to see everyone, but I'm not so good at knowing what to do at a party."

"You just be your normal, charming, sometimes cranky self. No one expects you to start a samba line in the middle of the party." Pausing, she gestured at him frantically. "And we certainly hope that will never come to pass. Seriously, though, Remy, just chat, eat and drink a whole lot. And most of all relax and have fun."

"See, you're outside of my area of expertise." He took the bottle and slipped an arm around her waist. "Let's go get a couple of glasses and you can help me figure out how this works while we open dis bottled wonder. De monkey can watch us drink it."

"I knew I liked you for a reason."

Remy bit into a cracker, trying to figure out exactly what might be in the earthenware bowl on the table. It wasn't salsa, it didn't smell like anything recognizable, and the rest of the party had relegated it to the end of the table. Remy was a spy, which meant his job was to find information. He wondered if that should include checking the dip, despite the potential risks.

Cain's sudden appearance at the table gave him a better idea. "You want some dip, homme?" After all, Cain was invulnerable, wasn't he?

"Hey, dip!" The large man grabbed a handful of crackers, scooping Up the unknown dip and taking a large mouthful. One chew, a second, Then a strange look crossed Cain's features. "Whaddafuck y'put
in dis, Wemy?"

"Not my cooking. I just wanted to know what it was, and it's not like I'm going to try it." Remy grinned. "Looks like you just became an expendable asset, homme. Does it taste as bad as it looks?"

"If it looks like thirty thousand camel asses," Cain mumbled out after a mouthful of beer. "Oh, hey. Birthday and shit. Here." Cain shoved an awkwardly wrapped package at Remy. "Don't make any cracks about then wrapping job. Scotch tape's damn small."

"I'm more surprised dat you didn't get one of de kids to do it as an assignment for extra credit." Remy had spent a while ribbing Cain for his teaching post, amused at the idea of the huge man trying to talk about American history to a class full of preteens. He unwrapped the package, and grinned. "Where de hell did you find 'De Plains of Home' on DVD?"

The boxed set, covered in Cyrillic, was a Kazakhstani soap opera that Remy had started watching during his time in the boathouse. He spoke Russian fluently, which was what the soap opera was in, and had led to Cain retaliating with Cold War anti-Soviet classic movies.

"Asked Ramsey to figure out what you hadn't put on the TiVo, made a few calls, shook a few trees, y'know," Cain rinsed a mouthful of beer around his mouth to kill the last vestiges of the Dip From Hell, surreptitiously spitting into a trash can. "It was that or get another Hallmark card. Turns out they actually don't make 'Congratulations on another year of not being a murderous psycho'. I think it'd sell."

"It's something of a limited market, true. Still, I appreciate de thought." Remy put the box down on the table, suddenly turning serious. "I've been slipping, It's all in tiny amounts, but dey dere. Even gone so far as to talk to dat Sofia in de office 'bout it. I can't say dat I'm not worried." His voice had gone low, so only Cain could hear.

Cain leaned on the table, resting on his knuckles and looking out at where the rest of the assembled group of Remy's friends and colleagues mingled. "It kills you, don't it? Doubting whether or not that person was you or someone different? It's easy to have someone to blame it on, ain't it? But sooner or later, the shit you done comes back to you. Either knockin' at your door or knockin' at your conscience." He turned to Remy, a look in his eyes that didn't speak of condemnation or pity, but genuine sympathy. "Can't erase it, just got to deal with it."

"It just seems so close, you know. And dere's no way out." He shook his head. "Down in New Orleans, Lorna got to see some of de results. It didn't go over so well. Guess it has me thinking dat... I don't even know what. Like dat's going to be what's left of my life. It's not like what I did as Gambit doesn't merit dat and more, but-- guess dat's killing de whole party mood, neh?"

"That fucking dip killed the mood," Cain replied as if he and Remy had been discussing nothing more than football scored, "It's your goddamn birthday. Want to go throw some darts, have a beer?"

Remy actually smiled. Thet was something nice about Cain. It was easy enough to let himself get caught up in his past, until Marko dropped a dose of either common sense or just sense in general on top of it. "Wanda bought me very expensive bourbon that needs other people tasting it. Can I interest you in a glass?"

"Wanda's got taste, line me up for two. One for drinkin', and one to burn out that toxic sludge from between my molars. Who fuckin' catered this, the boys from Tuskegee?" Cain downed the last of his beer and clapped Remy on the back. "Come on, birthday boy, we still gotta see if anyone hops out of the cake. With your luck, they'll have machine guns."

Remy glanced over the soundsystem, actually amazed at Mark's restraint. The young man had lashed up a much smaller version of his normal DJ system for the party, providing music without deafening out the conversation. LeBeau made a mental note to get him access to some of the tech research firms that Frost Industries had. If he was doing this well with off the shelf components, he could be exponentially more effective with access to top of the line gear. X-Force needed a stronger tech presence, allowing them to maximize their time in the field and minimize exposure to danger.

And always the job, he mentally shook himself. That, he knew, was what he wasn't supposed to be doing at a party. Remy took a sip just as Mark came over to switch his playlists.

"Amanda tells me you have a certain penchant for Hindi soap operas," Mark said to Remy, white Russian in hand. "Happy birthday." At the press of a button, what sounded like the bastard child of Aishwarya Rai and Christina Aguilera began to play. "I also wanted to get you a cake in the shape of a naked woman, but Angie wouldn't let me."

"Marie-Ange grew up Catholic. A sense of decency or something still ingrained." Remy didn't mention that the cake they'd gotten didn't make any sense to him, despite everyone else laughing. A naked woman would have made more sense then the muppet shrimp he'd gotten instead. "And oui, but not just Hindi. Dere's some very good Russian and southeast Asians ones too."

"I'd pay to see you Bollywood through the office," Mark mused. "Do you actually speak those languages? Guess you wouldn't have too. Can't be too hard to figure out when the past half-season's arc about the heroine's clone taking her place and sacrificing her baby to demons was just a dream."

"You know, dey all laugh 'bout it. I deal wit' too much reality every day. Watching people talk 'bout ridiculous love affairs and badly act dere way through contrived situations and strange family relations. It's soothing..." Remy said, taking sips from his drink. "And it helps dat I do speak most of dose languages. Some better den others, since I was primarily a European specialist, but enough to get through in most places."

"Well, I watch Dawson's Creek and Degrassi and The O.C.," Mark admitted. "So I see what you mean." He downed the last bit of his drink and shut his eyes, feeling the beat of the bass and the strum of the sitar was over him. The music was an odd combination of styles, but before enough similarity to Western pop that Mark could access his mutation, drawing light towards him so the room darkened slightly but he began to glow. "Wow. Never done that one before. It's a good day for all of us, huh?"

"Dat's right." Remy looked at him oddly for a moment. "Before de end of de night, you take a couple of minutes and talk to Stormy, de white haired woman in de corner. She can arrange a few sessions in a specialized training environment, give us a better idea 'bout what you powers can do."

Mark glanced over his shoulder at the woman who really ought to have been a super model, in his humble opinion. "So long as they don't mention She of the Pseudo-Disco. I get enough comments from Angie and Amanda and Doug about that."

"I doubt dat your training regimen and Alison Blaire's would be de same." Remy said wryly. "But you going to need to know how to use dose powers de best dat you can, and dere's no better trainers or training room den de place at de school."

"This involves me actually leaving the confines of Manhattan, doesn't it?" Mark sighed. "Well, if my job is dependent on it . . ." The look on Remy's face said it was, and Mark sighed again. A resigned, over-the-top sigh, as was his style. "So when do I get the trenchcoat?"

"When you earn it, many interesting scars from now." Remy said dryly. "You still got a lot of training to go, Mark. Plus, you'll be out in de field next time we go. Have to see how you handle yourself." He'd been concerned about Mark's youth at first, but the reality was that the young man had strength under his flip attitude. It wasn't fake tough, which Remy could recognize and break in minutes, but a deep sense of what was right and what shouldn't be allowed. Wisdom once referred to it as the ethos of Fucking People Over Is Wrong; and that people who broke that deserved it right back at them.

"Also, you'd look like you dressed up in Dad's clothing wit' one. Maybe will be like de X-Men. You training uniform can be, I don't know, leather jackets like 'mandas. Den when you graduated to full bastard mode, you get you trenchcoat and intensely bitter world view."

"I was kinda hoping for purple spandex with belts and pouches everywhere, like in the comics. You know, really conspicuous clothing that the baddies don't see because they're evil." Mark had to wonder how Remy put up with his flippant attitude when he, Remy, was always on the job. Even at a party in his honor.

"You've just officially disqualified yourself from ever getting to choose team outfits or disguises." He said, a wry look on his face.

Nathan had lingered on the fringes of the party, not out of discomfort - he did after all know most of these people, and quite well - but out of a strange, slightly perverse desire to get a good look at just how Remy did react, and interact, under conditions like this. Seeing the
'birthday boy' headed in his direction, Nathan hid a smile by sipping at his beer.

"You may not want to open my gift until you're in private," he said to Remy. "I could see the kids give you a hard time. And you giving me the evil eye."

"What's de worst dey can do? I, on de other hand, can bury dem in archives upstate for a couple of weeks wit' all sorts of good reasons to need de data." Remy's statement wasn't exactly true, but close enough. His aptly timed removal of Amanda from the offices during the crisis in Monaco hadn't gone unnoticed by the other staff.

He tore the paper sideways and stared puzzled at the package. "Huh," He said finally. "A rock. Can't wait to tell my friends. Bet none of dem have a rock dis big."

"Turn it over," Nathan said patiently, and waited until Remy did, revealing the 'Alcatraz Preservation Project - Save The Rock!' label on the front. "I figured you might like a little memento," he said with a perfectly straight face.

Remy turned it over, looking carefully at it before suddenly looking back up. "I thought dat it looked familiar! Dis de very same rock dat big bastard bounced my head off of 'bout a dozen times!" Remy's laughter was sudden, as surprising as a whore's tears.

"Never let it be said that I don't have a fairly sick sense of humor," Nathan said with a crooked smile, but the amusement in his eyes had a hint of contentment. "I am after all the man who gave you a glass purple ass the last time I was in a gift-giving mood."

"Ceser guards my drinks cabinet, you know." Remy replied, with great seriousness. "He's not a donkey to be trifled wit'."

"I thought he had a certain air of toughness about him. Despite being purple." Nathan took another sip of his beer, then smiled again. "Enjoying your party? You don't look quite as shell-shocked as you did."

"Adapting. Never had one of dese before. Figured dat I'll have to work up to being comfortable." Remy said, looking around at the people there. "Didn't figure I'd get a crowd like dis outside of a full fledged disaster response or something."

"Life is full of surprises. Moreso when you have devious friends." Nathan's gaze roamed the room briefly. "And yours are more devious than most."

"Train dem dat way." Remy grinned. "Some master spy dat I turned out to be. Set up by my own office without de slightest warning."

"Well, if they'd warned you, it wouldn't have been a surprise, would it?" Nathan sipped at his beer, then smiled again. "It's a good party. Although, that cake..." He laughed.

"Eventually, de going to explain what de joke is." Remy turned the rock over in his hands.

The look in Nathan's gray eyes was very serious suddenly, although the smile was still lingering on his face. "So long as you realize that it is just the cake that's the joke. The party itself... no one's going to jump out and say 'Smile, you've been on Candid Camera'... and wow, did I just date myself."

"Could be worse. I think dat I once heard Cain refer to Scott as a 'hotrodder'." Remy grinned. "So now I need to send a research team on a cake. Speaking of, I see dat you touched 'manda for some work in Germany. Dis not related to dat business in Prague, is it?"

Nathan shook his head slightly. "Niger. Visibly mutant children being turned away from feeding centers - I've been trying to follow that since before we founded Elpis." His smile was more crooked, this time. "We're not going to find the answer to Prague in an archive somewhere... but anyway. Not the best subject for a celebratory occasion. I don't think I'll have her away from the office too long."

"Dat's alright. I think Wisdom is planning to bill you for doubletime no matter what." Remy noted, looking at his drink for a moment before taking a sip. "Good to get her out for a bit too. After Manuel, work is a welcome distraction."

"Yeah, there is that. She was talking about getting in touch with her brothers while she was in Berlin, too. That will do her good." Nathan snorted softly, staring down into his own drink. "I'm a bit envious. I could use a vacation myself."

"Doubt she'll consider it a vacation." Remy shrugged. "And we'll have work enough for her after it.

"Of course. The work never really ends." Nathan shook off whatever train of thought had been drawing him downwards and raised his glass to Remy in a half-salute. "Anyway. Happy birthday - I thought the choice of date was a nice touch."

"Merci, 'manda did well." He toasted him with his glass. "Can't say I enjoyed having twenty years of hell stuffed into my head all at once, but she's right. It was de day Gambit died and Remy was born."

"I've taken a little ridicule at times, back at the mansion, for collecting significant dates the way I do," Nathan said reflectively, after a moment and another sip of his drink. "Good and bad. It's a way to give your life some shape, on a fundamental level, if you mark the days where something happened that really made an impact on you."

Remy considered it for a moment, staring into his glass. "Guess you might be right, Nate." He took a sip and grinned. "Now, we can mark dis day by showing Cain my rock. See if we can trick him into trying to eat it or something."

"I'm all for indulging evil senses of humor," Nathan said more cheerfully, and polished off his beer.

It was just a little too much, Remy considered, as he climbed the steps to the roof. He shouldn't be running away from his own party, but he needed a couple of minutes to clear his head, and get control of the conflicting emotions. A quiet cigarette on the roof would help his jangled nerves.

Of course, sitting crosslegged on the ledge and eating something, was Sarah. Remy lit the cigarette and sighed. There went the relaxing, head-clearing smoke. Still, he'd already run away from one thing. Might as well deal with the other.

Sarah hadn't expected to see Remy up here. Any number of people at the party, yes, but not the main event. She put the plate down on the ledge beside her, just out of his view. "You know they're going to come looking for you the moment they realize your gone. I'm not hiding you."

"Unless I disappear for hours, 'manda will impale anyone wit' a party favour dat comes after me." Remy took a drag from his cigarette and came over to lean on the ledge. His eyes flickered over to the plate, and he tried not to grin. "Guess dat you decided to attend. Makes sense."

"No, I didn't." There wasn't any hostility in her voice--not yet anyway--just a matter-of-fact tone. "I went in, stole a piece of your cake, and came up here to stay out of the way. Welcome to the 'I promised I'd behave' party."

"Well, I'm told de killing of de person de party is held for often destroys de mood. Maybe during your birthday, you can kill me, as kind of a party game?" Remy said quietly, leaving the package of cigarettes on the ledge between them.

"Nah, I'm told that well-adjusted people refrain from killing their co-workers, even on their birthdays." Sarah eyed the cigarettes on the ledge for a moment, and finally went for her own, tucked neatly in her jacket pocket. This was still Remy, and she still wouldn't trust him, cigarettes or no. "It's disappointing."

"You could always set me up to die in de field. Make it look like an accident?" Remy looked out over the street, watching the people move between the lights and the cars, bustling even late at night in the East Village.

Sarah shot him a sideways glance. She might have grinned. "Quit being helpful. Makes it hard to hate you when you're being helpful."

"Well, we supposed to be training you, after all. Might as well get de full ranges of studies in." Remy said, finishing off his drink and setting it down on the ledge. "Sarah, I've asked Logan if he's willing to give you some advanced training; hand-to-hand. Teach you how to use dat healing factor best in a fight and counter other forms, like agility and speed based combat forms. He's old, smells like a taxi cab mat, and has no social graces, but he's a hell of a fighter."

"I know that. I've worked with Logan before." Sarah took a drag off of her cigarette and snorted softly. This time, the grin was unmistakable. "In fact, I think I begged and pleaded with him until he finally agreed to rough me up a little."

"Dat's not going to be a problem dis time." Remy said. "De deal is simple. De goal is to get you to a point dat you able to take any of us down. You got de best mix of powers and abilities for de front line, and we're going to need you to get dere as fast as you can."

"And for practice, I get to try taking you down?" Sarah approved of this plan. Very much so. In fact, it took all she had not to do the 'happy dance of joy' right there on the roof. For one, it was embarrassing to do it in front of anyone, and well, it was probably kind of rude to celebrate getting to beat up the birthday boy in front of him. Not that propriety had ever stopped her before.

"Oui, you will." Remy looked serious for a moment. "Because eventually you and I need to balance things out. If death is de only way, den we'll need to figure dat out. If dere's something else, we'll need to find dat route."

Sarah snorted softly, flicking ashes over the ledge beside her. "You and I both know that's not how it's going to happen. I do that, and everybody gets pissed off at me again. I'm not that stupid anymore."

"I also know dat as long as you see me and Gambit as de same person, you've got every right to do it." Obviously LeBeau wasn't that concerned about his survival, but that was typical of him. He'd thrust himself into the meat grinder as soon as he could, like a man with a deathwish.

"That's the problem. You've got enough people thinking otherwise, that it doesn't matter what I believe." Well, so much for being polite to the birthday boy.

"You already know dat it does." Remy shrugged. "Because you going to be stuck having to trust me in de field. If you don't, one or both of us is going to get killed. And if we're lucky, we won't take anyone with us. Since you don't even believe de word of Xavier dat de two people are different, you need to figure out how to deal wit' it."

Sarah shrugged, annoyed that he was lecturing her. Again. "Excuse me for not trusting telepaths entirely. I've had bad experiences with some of them." She stubbed out her cigarette with a huff. "And seeing as how you're not dead yet, I'd say I'm dealing quite well, thank you very fucking much for your concern."

"What we do is bigger den de both of us, Sarah. I can't tell you dat I'm sorry for what happened. It's impossible to even hope to convey anything dat would cover what both Gambit and de Agency set up for you people." Remy said quietly. "De memory of what happened sits up here every day, along wit' all of de other things dat Gambit deserved a thousand deaths over. But I'm not going to let him hurt anyone else any more, and if dat means you and I can only work dis out over top of de corpse of one of us, den you tell me now."

"I bet that would make things easier for you, wouldn't it? You know I can't take you out right now, so you get a free pass to take one more person who won't let you forget Gambit?" She unfolded her legs, putting them back on the roof of the building so she could put more space in between them. "Nice try."

"I doubt dat." Remy shook his head. "If it was de people dat wouldn't let me forget Gambit, den dis would be a lot easier. It's very simple, Sarah. If you can't accept dat he and I are different, den you choose de time and de place. A year from now, next week, whatever you need to get ready. However, if dat's not something dat you ready to do, den we need to come to an understanding or we going to get someone killed. You still want revenge, I'll give it to you when you decide. If not, den we both out of excuses and threats to not deal wit' it."

Remy flicked his butt over the ledge and turned back to the door, heading back into the brownstone.

Things seemed to be winding down, or at least getting to the point of relocating - Mark was talking about nightcaps at Silver. And Remy was wearing the strained ___expression of someone who was at the end of his rope. Buggerit. Amanda finished her drink with a sigh. It looked like Nathan had been right after all. It had been an awful idea.

Maybe she should just go down to the airport now?

Remy was sitting against the window sill, a glass in his hand and a contemplative expression on his face. The look of slightly stunned wariness he'd worn for most of the night still flickered, but not as much. There had been music, and a cake shaped like a muppet shrimp (a reference that Remy still didn't get but had caused great hilarity to everyone else at the party). Thanks to Marie-Ange, he'd avoided the awful paper hats, which was a success in and of itself. He took a sip of the bourbon, as most of the people filtered out, waving over their shoulders as they left.

There was one more beer left in the cooler. Shame to waste it, really. Grabbing it, Amanda took a long swig before wandering almost casually over to where Remy sat. Might as well face the music now, get it over and done with. "Hey," she said lamely. "Not joining the rest?"

"Non, I don't think so. I think dat I might spend a few hours just trying to relax a bit." Remy swirled the ice in his glass. "It's been quite a night, neh?"

"You could say that." Swigging again, Amanda leaned with her shoulder against the wall next to his window, watching him. "Was it... was it all right, tho'?" she asked at last, biting her lip a little and sounding as young as she actually was. "Did you enjoy any of it?"

"I've never been more terrified or out of place in my life." Remy drained the rest of his drink and set the glass on the sill next to him. "I also don't remember a night dat mattered more to me." It was a bit of a lie, but close enough to the truth. He kept Beaumont-les-Bains strictly to himself.

Amanda's worried expression gave was to a shy smile. "Really? It did?" The smile turned a little goofy. "I'm sorry for the terrified bit, but I wanted you to know that there's people out there who care 'bout you. And putting 'em all in the same place seemed like the best idea." She looked down, toeing the floorboards with her boot. "Well, Mark gave me the idea. But I'm glad you liked it. Sort of."

"Never had a birthday before. Never really thought 'bout it, you know? It was just something else dat made me anonymous outside of my job." As Gambit, not being a person was important. People couldn't do the things that he did without going mad. It left Remy without the skills to do it very well. "Now, I guess I'm not so mysterious any more. Must be de function of age."

"Well, according to the event I picked, you're technically only two years old..." Amanda teased, relaxing a little.

"I still have files dat I could use from Albany, 'manda. Don't push it."

She mock-shuddered. "I'll be good. Any thing but that." Taking another swig of beer, she leaned companionably against his shoulder, glad for the quiet. Sitting with Remy like this, trading banter... it was like old times. She'd missed it. "I see Nate got you a rock," she said, nodding at said item, sitting on the table.

"De same one dat my head got bounced off of, I believe. I think I might name it after him." Remy grinned.

That got another snort of laughter. "Nate the pet rock. Has a sort of a ring to it." Taking another swig of beer, she admitted, a little shamefaced: "I didn't get you anything. Couldn't think of what would be good - what do you get the ex-assassin who's got nothing, y'know?" she added, would-be lightly. "And I didn't want to go the lame route and get you a gift certificate or something."

"You already got me something. Dis. Better den any gift certificate, you know."

She blushed, ears and cheeks turning pink. "I'm glad you see it that way," she said, ducking her head a little. "I had a lot of help. I've never thrown a party for anyone before - I tend more towards the 'lets go down to the pub and have a piss-up' kind of thing."

“Speaking of, I think dat dey waiting for you dere, chere. Why don’t you get going?” Remy leaned back and smiled lightly. “Remy be alright here.” He had a phone call to make.

For a moment she seemed about to protest, to ask if he wasn’t coming along, but then she nodded, understanding. “I’m glad you liked it,” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek briefly. “Happy birthday, swamp rat.”