xp_logs | Ororo and Remy | Saturday night (Reply)

During one of their evenings in the city, Ororo and Remy discuss his reaction to Mark's death, and decide that their next vacation spot may well be Istanbul (not Constantinople).

New York. Midnight. Atop a pillar extending out over the Hudson River, the city didn't seem as much huge as it did omnipresent. Remy sighed as he dawdled at his perch, watching Luke finish the last set of runs with Jubilee, cursing non-stop in thick Creole with every stumble and miscue the young Asian girl made. Luke was one of the most natural la parkour experts Remy had ever met; a man who naturally considered three-sixty as his range of options while moving.

Surprisingly, despite the odd crashing mistake or, Remy's favourite, missed handhold and animated Chinese cursing from whatever dumpster she landed in five stories below, Lee had a natural talent for it. She wasn't going to challenge Luke any time soon, and Remy had mutant powers on top of his own talent with the techniques, but she was rapidly reaching passable Guild level, which was as strenuous and difficult in its own way as anything she'd done with the X-Men.

Truthfully, he didn't need to be watching her training today, but with Emma Frost in the office, along with her new bodyguard Bishop and the terrifying spectre of them both bonding with Sofia, escape was in order. So LeBeau watched the Cajun and his new charge disappear into the distance without making any attempt to join them.

"Either you bribed 'manda to track me down, or you bugged Remy's trenchcoat last time I stayed over, chere." He said offhandedly, seemingly to the empty sky as he lit a cigarette.

"Or," came the reply, accompanied by the soft rustle of the wind, "I could have noticed you while on my way to a more usual meeting place." Ororo touched down gently, finding her balance seemingly effortlessly with the help of the breezes that wafted around her. "It isn't every day you see handsome men loitering above the river in the middle of the night."

"Or slightly grubby Cajuns for dat matter. Unless you been looking." Remy smiled as he lowered his smoke. "Dat what you been looking for, 'ro? More Cajuns?"

"Just the one, I think, is enough for me." She smiled back as she stepped closer, leaning in to catch his lips and kiss him deeply. When she pulled back her eyes were sparkling. "Though I suppose it could not hurt to stockpile them... they could be used as decoys, in case we need to escape the madness at a moment's notice."

"Bad idea. I don't even trust one of myself, much less more." Remy grinned and perched on the edge of the pillar. "So, race you to de bottom?"
With a single, smooth motion, the Cajun flung himself out into the air, arms outstretched like a man performing a swan dive over a pool, although in this case, it was hurtling towards the hard cement a dozen stories below.

With a laugh Ororo gathered the winds about her, swooping off the pillar and dropping towards the ground quickly. Though completely trusting in Remy's abilities she kept an eye on him all the same in case the unexpected arose and he needed aid.
The air rushed around him as he plummeted, until only a few stories above obliteration, he snapped out an arm, catching a rail just long enough to pull himself sideways. It robbed a fraction of his momentum, as the next clothline did, and the flagpole, and the awning, and each bit of the building that he touched, bouncing between like a human pinball, but each fractional moment stealing a little more of the killing speed, until finally, he dropped to the asphalt with no more of a sound than if he'd alighted out of a second story window.

Not too long after Ororo joined him on the ground, the sound of her boots hitting the asphalt echoing slightly in the night. "If I were a weaker woman I don't think I could watch that," she remarked, still grinning.

"If you were a weaker woman, you wouldn't want anything to do wit' me, chere." Remy grinned at her, lightning quick, and kissed her. "Been told dat I require a strong stomach to put up wit'."

"Are you sure they were not talking about your drinking habits?" the silver-haired woman inquired, arching an eyebrow. "Bitter coffee and whiskey chasers can do some damage to your stomach lining."

"De day dat my stomach lining is de main risk to my well being, Remy's life be a lot more peaceful and worthwhile." He slipped an arm around her waist. "What are you plans for de rest of de night?"

"Enjoying myself in the city, what else? Though how exactly I am going to accomplish that has yet to be decided." She flashed him a grin. "I am, as always, open to suggestions."
"Well, considering dat you hate de city, I'm going to guess dat Remy supposed to be involved in all dis." He grinned. "You hungry?"

"I skipped dinner to fly out here - I am starving."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in East River park, listening to the babble of salsa music coming from the portable stereos around the clusters of other late night visitors to the park. It was the first unseasonably warm night for New York City, and the populations around the park were out late. Remy passed over the order of cochinita pibil to Ororo, while wiping a spot of grease from his mouth.

The food was excellent, the music infectious, and the company pleasing, as always. It seemed like a startling brush with normality to be there with Remy, enjoying the feel of the grass against her bare feet (she had long since kicked off her shoes) and the sounds of the music wafting down on them. Not that such moments were all that few and far between, but twenty-odd years of strange circumstances led her to appreciate every bit of ordinary happenings that occurred.

"Tempting to come down here during de day. Play hooky from work and de school and just relax." The Cajun said, leaning almost bonelessly on his elbows. Like a cat, Remy had a remarkable ability to flop, letting his limbs rest and his unnatural agility and flexibility to cause a disjointed looking sprawl.

"Mm, indeed," Ororo agreed, setting down the carton of food and shifting to sit a bit closer to the reclining Cajun. "Though if we were truly playing hooky, I would head for a place with a bit more sky. The city is not exactly my idea of the perfect escape."

"Plenty sky dere. See?" He pointed out over the river, where the skyline of Brooklyn edged the water. "Just happens to have a border 'round de bottom is all."

"Border is just another name for a wall, mpenzi. And no one likes those."

"Depends on which side of de wall you on, chere. Sometimes dey keep you safe instead of keeping you out, neh?" Remy said, letting his head loll and looking up through the just budding branches. "Keeping you safe." He muttered, repeating the phrase with a low, distracted tone, almost to himself.

Ororo's expression was faintly dubious, but she eschewed an argument in favor of lying back on the grass, staring up at the faint pinprinks of stars in the violet sky overhead. It was true that not every part of the city was oppressive in its civilization; there was still beauty to be found if you looked hard enough. "I suppose they are necessary enough, sometimes."

"And sometimes dey don't work." LeBeau sighed and scuffed at the grass under his feet. "Couple of things been jumbled up in my head lately, chere. Been helping dat Forge test his security on de mansion. Every time dat I beat it, we talk 'bout what it is, and he keeps trying to make better, smarter walls. De thing is, every time dat I do it, and he tells me dat next time he going to get me, Remy just shake my head and know dat's not going to happen, and what he needs to believe. Den dere's what I believe in, my own training and people, and it turns out, dat's just as much of a false belief as his in his walls."

"Perhaps, but they are certainly better than nothing," Ororo replied thoughtfully. "Certainly they cannot keep everything at bay, nothing could. There are too many weaknesses to be exploited, too many cracks to get through. That does not mean we should give up. What would be the purpose in that?"

"Dat's not what I was thinking 'bout. Doing dis life, dere's risks. I've been used to dem all my life." Remy shook his head. "I've sent people into danger. Sent some knowing dat dey would die. Of de seventeen teens dat I trained wit' in de Lost Boys program, only three survived de first three years. No one else made it out of dere first decade. It never bothered me like dis."

Rolling over onto her front, Ororo propped herself up on her elbows, tilting her head to observe Remy. "Perhaps you have connections with people now that you did not have then," she suggested gently. "It is difficult to send people into danger when you actively care about their well-being. Especially if they are your friends."

"It's not de danger. Remy been feeding de rest of de team into situations dat are suicidal at best." He took a breath. "Remy come to terms wit' de fact dat I'm going to lose someone at some point. Did dat a long time ago. But when Mark-- when dere was no chance at all dat Mark had survived, I didn't question de need for what he did, or any of de choices he or we made. But den later, hours after we were sure, suddenly it all came down on me. Never felt like dis before."

"Mpenzi..." Her hand went to his knee, as if trying to soothe away the now-misplaced pain. "It hurts to lose family." It was a simple statement of fact, though of course her tone said volumes more. "However they may be defined."

"It's a little new for me still, chere." He shuffled to be able to cover her hand with his. "Guess dat's what I been missing. Ready to break de wrists of a seventeen year old wit' all de life experience of a turnip and knot his arms together wit' his hands because he makes a smart comment 'bout it. Why? Because he doesn't understand, can't understand what de other people 'round Remy currently trying to deal wit'. Ready to send dem to die if I need to, but ready to get angry wit' people after its happened for not understanding."

"It is not an easy position to be in. And I wish I could counsel that it becomes easier. But..." Trailing off, Ororo shook her head. "Just try and be patient with those that do not understand. They are fortunate, and if they continue to be so will never have to understand how it feels to experience that kind of loss." She squeezed his leg. "Even as we do."

"Dere was a point dat I used to feel a little lucky to be a monster. Couldn't hurt me because de was nothing I cared 'bout, including myself. De trade-off is an adjustment." He smiled wanly at her. "We could still run 'way. Be in Instanbul in twelve hours, plenty of juicy targets. Remy bet we could steal a million in de first month."

"You would miss the brownstone before the first week was out," she said wryly.

"Oui." Remy said simply, leaning back on his elbows, nudging her closer to him with his leg.

Ororo slipped her arms around his waist, sighing softly and resting a cheek on his shoulder. "That does not mean we cannot play hooky, however. Whenever you like."

Remy grinned. "Istanbul?"