xp_logs | Ororo/Remy: Atlantic City!

Remy and Ororo head down to Atlantic City for a much needed weekend of rest. Although, her driving can't always been counted on for relaxation.

"I think it is a left turn here-- no! I was wrong." Ororo barely
managed to keep the Jeep from ramming into three very-full trash cans
as she wrenched the wheel, turning them back onto the main road, which
looked like a scaled-down version of the Las Vegas strip, complete
with dazzling lights and enough all-you-can-eat buffets to keep even
the students at Xavier's busy. "What does the map say? Vermont, is
that not correct?"

"Remy going to die here. Dey going to say what finally was able to
take down de great Gambit and de answer going to be his girlfriends'
driving." Remy said, tossing the map into the glove compartment. "Pull
over dere for a sec."

Ororo pulled over, and to her surprise, Remy leaned out with a bill in
his hand to the hooker on the corner. He swiftly asked a few questions
before passing over the bill and eased back into his seat. "Down 'bout
five blocks, and den de first left. Hookers always know de fastest
route to a hotel, chere." He said with a crooked grin.

"I could have found it," Ororo grumbled with a roll of her eyes,
nevertheless following the directions Remy's 'friend' had given them
to a successful end, pulling into the hotel (really more of a motel,
really - not that it mattered) parking lot and shutting off the
engine. As far as impromptu trips went, this one was not too bad thus
far. After the past few weeks they had both endured, getting out of
New York and away from the craziness had seemed like an especially
good idea. And it had actually been Ororo's suggestion that they drive
down to Atlantic City... apparently substituting a whole different
kind of craziness was what passed for vacations these days.

Remy hopped out and pulled their bags off of the back seat. He still
sported a couple of spectacular bruises where Marie has tossed him end
over end like a rag doll, but the stiffness was gone. With an easy
grace, he swung one of the bags over his shoulder and waited for Ororo
to join him.

"So what did you have in mind for de weekend, chere? You got
some gambling addiction dat you been hiding from me all dis time?"

This earned a laugh from the woman, and she joined him by the side of
the Jeep, hefting her own bag. "What did I have in mind? Besides
taking advantage of the in-room hot tub and free shrimp cocktails?
Absolutely nothing."

"In-room hot tub? Remy think dat you've already scouted dis place
out." They walked through the automatic doors and towards the front
desk. It had been some time since he'd been to Atlantic City, and
certainly never under circumstances this appealling. "So, do you want
to sign us into de register as Mr and Mrs Smith or should I?"

"And here I always thought I would keep my maiden name," Ororo teased.
"Go right ahead."

Being Atlantic City, they decide to make a little wager, however this one involves questions of LeBeau's past, and how concerned some little things have him.

They had registered and dropped their bags off in the room, stopping
to admire the hot tub that took up a generous portion of the bathroom.
Ororo had taken the opportunity to change into something 'more
comfortable', which had turned out to be a short black dress and heels
more suitable for cocktails than her trousers had been. Making their
way down to the hotel bar, they ordered their drinks and found a seat
on the outdoor patio, listening to the cawing of the gulls and the
roar of the not-so distant ocean.

"Well. It feels almost strange, not having a CD slipped to me under
the table," 'Ro joked, crossing her legs as she situated herself
comfortably in the chair. "It will take some getting used to."

"I could tip de waiter to put us in mortal danger again if it makes
you feel more comfortable." LeBeau joked, easing back and watching the
birds swoop for discarded fries and crusts on the street. He'd already
taken a long and admiring look at Ororo in the black dress,
accentuating the length and tone of her legs in a way not lost on any
of the men in the lobby as they crossed it.

"Personally, I think dat I prefer dis method. Dese meetings always end
so much better den dey used to."

"This is true." Smiling, Ororo slid her hand across the table and
placed it on Remy's, rubbing her thumb idly across his skin. It was no
secret that she was a very tactile person; it was nice to finally be
able to indulge that particular quirk. "Although perhaps it is the
ambient noise... maybe all meetings from now on should be conducted to
the sound of the ocean. I am sure Pete would agree to purchasing some
New Age tapes for your office."

"Don't give dem ideas. 'manda and Marie-Ange would end up trying to
put up wallpaper dat invokes de right 'mood' or something." He smiled
lightly, watching her thumb as it stroked the back of his hand. He'd
been trying to shut off the analytical part of his brain, that still
didn't trust that this was really happening. Instead, he tried to
focus on the moment, the feel of her skin against his; the sound of
her voice, her own light scent.

"Dat happens, Remy end up voluntarily talking to dat Sofia."

"Oh, no," Ororo gasped, laughing. "Anything but that. I will be sure
to keep my mouth shut, then. The last thing I would want to do is
facilitate inter-office communication."

"Dat's not as much 'bout communication as it is a slow torture." Remy
said glibly. He turned his hand over, using his fingers to stroke the
underside of her wrist. "Like having all dese people 'round right now.
Slow torture."

Remy met her eyes as he said it, his fingers trailing up her wrist,
following the line of her pulse.

Ororo smirked, though she didn't try to hide the faint blush in her
cheeks. "Well, since you are always saying I will be the death of
you.. perhaps I will extend this torture a bit longer. What do you say
we find ourselves a table and see who has the better poker face, mm,
mpenzi?"

"Dat a challenge, Stormy?" The light flickered oddly in Remy's red on
black eyes. "Oui, since we are in Atlantic City after all.
Although, if you want to take all Remy's money, I just know dat you'd
rather pick my pocket for it." He was only half teasing as he said it.

"Perhaps. But I am willing to level the playing field in order to be
fair. Unless you would rather not..." The taunting implication
was strong in her tone.

"I think I'm game, but I don't think dat you know what you're getting
into." Remy took a sip of his freshly arrived drink, a contemplative
look on his face. "So if we going to cut up a table, what sort of side
pot are we playing for? And you know dat I'm not interested in you
betting money."

"Oh no? A joyride in the Blackbird, then, is that more to your
liking?" she offered, pulling her hand back slowly. "Or perhaps you
were hinting at my gardening services. I would be happy to take a look
at any plants or botanical specimens in need of attention."

"You know, dat's not entirely what I was thinking." Remy said. "In
fact, what I was thinking is less exciting den what I'd like to say.
But still... if I win, I need a thief for a short time. And you de
prettiest one dat I know. For once, nothing illegal either. I need
some information and only somebody dat can talk de talk will be able
to get it."

The arched eyebrow and quirked lips were enough to tell Remy what
Ororo's initial reaction was, and she surveyed him archly for a moment
before replying. "Covering it up with compliments does not hide the
fact that you are once again trying to be a bad influence. What sort
of information are you after, Remy, and why do you need me for it? Why
not do it yourself?"

"Because it's about me. Dere's--" Remy paused. "Dis gets complicated.
Dere's a series of guilds in New Orleans, oui? We've talked
'bout dem. My psychotic ex-wife has seized control and by doing so,
basically purged de Thieves Guild. Dey now scattered all over de
country, and I've been helping dem stay organized 'gainst her."

He took a sip from his glass, trying to make sense. "De other day, one
of dem dropped off a package for me wit' Sofia. Dat's not unusual.
What was is dat when dey did, Sofia claims dey wanted de package to go
to Pere LeBeau. In de guilds, de title of de Guild Master is refered
to as pere or mere; mother or father by de rest of de guild members.
It's some kind of connection back to when de guilds really were just
big families. I've talked to Arlen, who is de defacto head right now,
and he has no idea what I'm talking 'bout. Fortunately, Remy don'
trust him."

There sounded like there was more of a story behind this incident than
could be explained in a single evening, but Ororo trusted Remy - if
not to keep her safe, then at least not to put her into any situation
she couldn't handle. "Very well. I will help you... if I lose."

"And if you win, chere? You got something in mind for dat?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," she replied primly. "If I win, you will
have to find another nickname for me - no more 'Stormy'."

"Dat sounds like a pretty big bet, Stormy." Remy deliberately stressed
the last word. "Guess dat I don't have much choice but to say yes. You
got a game in mind yet? I know it doesn't just come down to us playing
headsup, or fleecing de overweight holiday crowd, neh?"

"Something legal would be nice. We are in the right place for it,
after all." Finishing her drink, Ororo stood, holding out a slim hand
in Remy's direction. "Come, let us go try to find a likely test of our
skills while the night is still young."

Remy took her by the fingers, almost bowing over the hand. "Dere's much better tests of skill for when de night is old too."

Ororo and Remy square off, only one of them plays regularly with top players, and the other cheats as naturally as most people breathe. Who's going to win?

It was a sit and go table near the bar that Ororo finally pointed at. The Hold 'Em tables here were midlevel, a five hundred dollar average in the pots and a mix of excited tourists and bottom rung sharks trading chips back and forth. This was the bush league, but everyone at the table had the idea that it was a step to the Taj and Johnny Chan's table or something.

"Let me get dis straight, chere. We play until de stroke of midnight. De person who ends up taking de most money off of de players by den wins, oui?"

"Correct," Ororo murmured back to him, her arm currently wound about his waist closely. A few of the men at the table had already glanced in their direction and she was more than happy to gift them with a smile, hoping they would draw the conclusion that she was 'the girlfriend' and therefore no threat to them at all.

"You have three hours to prove yourself, Remy LeBeau. You had better start thinking of a new nickname." Turning and planting a kiss on his lips that grew deeper as her hand slithered down to his thigh, 'Ro waited just long enough for the other players to notice this public display of affection before pulling back and flashing Remy a grin. "Was that your wallet, or were you just happy to see me?" she asked in a coy tone, turning for the table."Make room, boys, I'm in the mood for a couple hands."

From the looks, it was obvious where they wanted to put the couple of hands. A seat was more grudgingly shifted for LeBeau. A pretty woman is welcome everywhere, while a scruffy Cajun is usually more expected washing dishes in the back. Besides, Ororo had just cut up the table of fish and sharks into a willing feast. They play aggressive against him to show him up past her, meanwhile folding midstack and playing loose for Ororo.

In basic terms, she had just turned the time limit into a major liability for Remy and an advantage for her without even drawing a card. He snorted in amusement. That good, how could you not fall for her?

They both passed over five hundred and received a stack of chips in return. Remy kept his sunglasses on, not to make him less readable but to keep attention down. Casinos took a dim view to mutants.

The next hand was dealt and the game began, and it progressed much the way Remy had predicted. Ororo seemed to have no objections playing up to the other men, smiling and flirting just enough with each one to keep them distracted from the fact that she actually knew what she was doing well enough. Each good hand she laid down was met with a delighted grin and a giggle, and when she lost she pouted adorably.

It was a little scary.

Meanwhile, Remy had to make do with actual skill, quickly learning the weaknesses and tells of the other players at the table and playing off of them while guarding his own hand closely. None of the men seemed particularly inclined to make it easy on him, and one of them, an overweight, balding man named Phil who ran a housing contract firm in Jersey, seemed to have a personal vendetta against the Cajun. Each time Remy won a hand he would mutter under his breath and up the stakes, until finally the other players began to drop out one by one.

With less than half and hour to go, Remy was rapidly running out of options. The aggressive play against him had forced him into a tight defensive style. He was steadily earning chips, as he guarded his bets carefully and set traps for the men, but Ororo's presence was earning her a much looser competition. She'd already run three straight low pockets into significant pots and been paid on all three.

Remy's only chance was Phil, a slob of a man who alternated between menacing glares at LeBeau and hungry looks at Ororo's chest. He was playing with a chip on his shoulder, and Remy needed him to continue. He dropped his big blind on the cushion, and looked at his cards.

A seven and a two, unsuited. Phil raised cautiously to his right, and everyone else either dropped out or called. Already on the hook, Remy limped in with a call. The flop came down, and suddenly the field was very different. A ten, a five, and a two sat on the table, giving LeBeau two low pairs. Phil again bet hard into him, and this time Remy came back over the top, trying to act as he was trying to overbet Phil out of the pot. He called, and the turn coughed up a jack.

Phil learned back and pushed in his stack. On a weak flop, he must have put LeBeau on a low pair with an overcard, and just made his top pair. It was possible he'd tripled up, but unlikely from his small opening raise. Remy called, and opened up his cards. Phil's king/jack lost against the two pair, and the man got up with a curse. He walked by Remy, intentionally shoving him as he did so.

"Guess dat Phil don' like Remy dat much." LeBeau joked. He'd just run up a sizable lead on Ororo, with only a couple of hands worth of time left. However, his heart sank after he folded his card, both men to his left pushed all in, and Ororo did the same with a triumphant smile.

There was something to be said for luck - not that Ororo had been betting on it the whole game, but this hand was certainly lucky enough to give her a chance at beating Remy, still. Two queens peered up at her as she lifted her cards; she hoped they'd be enough.

"I think I'm beginning to understand how this game is played," she told the man to her left, leaning forward to survey the chips on the table and consequently giving a generous view of her chest to everyone at the table. "And I think you boys are playing easy with me. Naughty, naughty." A quick calculation showed her she'd have just enough to put her over Remy if she won, and then the call came to flip their cards. She did so, and then turned to look at the rest of the table curiously.

"Naw, honey, you're just a natural," the man replied with a chuckle, his hands resting on top of his cards. Slowly he turned them face-up, revealing an eight and a jack that didn't altogether reassure Ororo. The other player flipped as well, revealing two diamonds along with a wolfish grin. "Looks like the lady's in it to win it, eh?"

Smiling demurely, Ororo sat back to watch as the dealer laid out the cards, barely-concealed excitement and nervousness bubbling just below the surface. As the man had said, she was in it to win. Sneaking a peek at Remy, she found herself watching his face instead of the cards, trying to read his expression as the hands were revealed.

Ladies. She was going to beat him with ladies in the pocket. Remy winced at the reveal. The flop came down, adding a diamond for the one man's desperate flush draw, and offering no luck to the other. Then the turn, a jack of diamonds. Flush draw and potential triple, since Remy knew he hadn't folded a jack. Ororo sat calmly, the same smile and sense of surity about her. She knew she was going to win.

The river, the ace of spades, confirmed it, and the area around Ororo erupted in applause as the two men groaned theatrically and pushed over their chips.

"Ma'am, can't say I remember a time enjoying losing more." Said the one with a shake of her hand as he left.

Ororo was sure to keep up the act as long as there were still people lingering by the table, though the glee in her eyes wasn't entirely feigned as she turned back to Remy at last. "It looks as if I have won, mpenzi," she said, gathering up her chips. "Though you did play quite well, I will admit."

"You beat me at de cards, dat's for sure, Stormy. Fair and square." They cashed out their chips, and Remy took her arm as they walked through the casino. "But I'm afraid dat I won de bet."

"Excuse me?" Ororo raised her eyebrows dubiously. "Those were the
terms, were they not? I took the most money from the players in the
time alloted. Therefore, I won."

Remy reached into his pocket, and drew out a worn brown wallet that most definately was not his own. He flipped it open, and drew out a small stack of bills, mostly twenties, before holding it so Ororo could see the drivers license.

"Phillip J. Terrence, from Red Bank, New Jersey." Remy flipped it closed again, and dropped it into the hands of one of the security guards as he went past. "Someone dropped dere wallet on de floor, homme." LeBeau said to the man as he and Ororo left the casino space and entered the lobby.

"Wit' his cash, dat puts me over de top."

Ororo opened her mouth to protest, then realized that under the terms of their 'agreement', Remy had won - if not fairly, then squarely enough. "I suppose it does," she said, resignedly, the earlier thrill of winning somewhat subdued now. "Congratulations."

"Couldn't lose my favourite nickname. Besides, Remy know dat you're wishing dat you had done it instead." Remy slipped his arm around her waist as they approached the elevator. "You won de game, chere. I cheated 'cause I needed to for de bet. Now, assuming dat you still want to talk to me, Remy can make it up to you?"

"And how do you propose to do that?" the weatherworker asked, her tone just a little petulant. She wasn't that put out, truly, but what good was it if she couldn't milk the opportunity for all it was worth?

Fortunately, everyone ends up getting what they want at the end.

Ororo leaned forward, chest deep in the soapy water as Remy's strong fingers dug into the muscles of her back and neck. The heat of the water had plastered Remy's hair to his head, making him look slightly wicked as he lounged in the hot tub with her. He found a particularly tight muscle, and methodically began to work out the knots in it, pausing only for the occasional wash of hot water along her back or light caress of her as he massaged.

"Mm..." Ororo leaned back into the pressure, welcoming the twinge of sore muscles as Remy's fingers and the warm water worked to relax them. "If you think this absolves you from cheating... you are absolutely correct." She glanced over her shoulder at him, the tips of her silvery hair damp and stuck together with water.

"Remy had a feeling dat it might, chere." He bowed slightly to place a kiss on the damp skin of her shoulder, fingers never ceasing their kneading of her flesh. The skipped over light scars, the signs of her professional, occasionally tracing them lightly. His own shoulder and back was covered in mottled bruises, but they seemed not to bother him much.

Ororo reclined slowly against the Cajun until she could rest her head on her shoulder, his hands finally stilling and then slipping around her waist. "You could have simply asked me," she said then, seemingly out of the blue, though the thought had been in her mind for some time. "You did not need to wrangle me into it with a bet."

"Oui, but dat wouldn't have nearly been as much fun." Remy lightly stroked the skin of her belly, closing his eyes to focus on the sensations. "Besides, Remy trying to keep you clear of dis Guid business much as I can. 'manda, Marie-Ange, Lorna; dey already been marked by dis. Figured dat if I lost, it was a sign dat getting you involved was a bad idea."

"If you wanted to lose so badly, perhaps you should not have cheated," Ororo pointed out, though there wasn't any heat to it. In fact, she chuckled, a sound that turned into a satisfied purr as his hand briefly slipped a bit lower. "And as much as I appreciate the thought, I would like to help you in this. However I can."

"You know dat Remy can't not try his best, chere. 'sides, now you know dat de next time you win, dat I tried everything, and you still won." His finger because slightly less teasing, guilding along the lines of her under the water. "It would be best if you steered clear of de Guilds, but I'm not sure how possible dat's really going to be. Still, if you really want to help--"

Remy shifted slightly, hands drawing her a little closer to him as he whispered in her ear. "Remy got some more immediate ideas for dat."