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xp_logsBetsy pays an unexpected visit to Remy.
Paris in the fall. Despite all the issues and cliches, it was still a romantic city. In a little bistro off of Rue Domat, close to the water ferry along the Seine, Remy LeBeau sipped his third cup of their excellent coffee and made notes on a pad of paper and his palm pilot. To the casual observer, he looked like a a business man doing some work on the weekend in more comfortable surrounding, or maybe some kind of academic arranging his notes. With his suit jacket slung over his chair with his trenchcoat, and white shirt opened loosely at the throat, he looked nothing like the kind of man who was dodging assassins all over Europe.
Generally Remy operated rarely in Paris. His french never gave up the Acadian accents of his use, and he'd never become fluent in omore traditional Parisian language, more comfortable with the mottled creole of New Orleans. Still, it was an excellent place to lay low and catch up on work for a few days before moving on again. Another week in Africa was looming, and Remy did not relish the prospect. Africa made it very easy to die ugly, and it chewed up even the best operatives after a while. He idly wondered what it would be like to visit it with Ororo, eyes drifting over to a couple sitting on the patio, talking closely.
That would have to come later. Remy waved his hand for another cup of coffee.
"Oui, monsieur," a waiter snapped to attention before turning away.
A slender hand appeared with a fresh cup of coffee, slipping it just below Remys's elbow. "I'd laugh at how fast he turned tricks almost as well as he got coffee but that wouldn't be fair." A well-manicured hand traveled up Remy's arm and followed the line of his collar, caressing the nape of his neck. Lips came down and placed a not-so chaste kiss on his cheek. A special rendez-vous for all those watching. The hand continued along the path towards the other arm as its owner took a seat next to him. Elisabeth Braddock, Betsy to those who know her well enough to duck, sat down in the seat next to him. She was dressed in an oversized black hat, shades and a ridiculously long form-fitted black dress. Betsy smiled sweetly at Remy through her glasses as she spoke. "It's good to see you. I take it all is well?"
Remy grinned wryly at her. "See dat you haven't forgotton how to make an entrance, Betts. We playing illicit affair for de crowd? Kind of a stereotype in Paris, chere."
He took a sip from the cup and set his work aside. "Things are a little hectic. Since de Agency gave SHIELD a paddling over de Deathbird incident, it looks like dey got a lot of funding back on de books. Langstrom's trying to put a net over de whole damn EU. How's things in Britain?"
"I like to be pragmatic when it comes to work." Betsy said, crossing her legs and turning towards Remy in his seat. She looked casually around the outside cafe and lowered her voice. "Typical bureaucratic reaction and hopefully it'll blow over but that's not the reason for this visit." Betsy paused, taking her shades off casually and looked piercingly at Remy. "I've come to ask you to come back with me, Rem. It's not right for you to be out here, alone."
"Not going to happen, Betts. Langstrom gets even a hint dat I'm anything other than Gambit, de devil he thinks he knows, and he'll start digging hard. He knows Remy associated with de Morlocks, he knows Sarah's name, and he knows your rep from STRIKE and de school. He bothers to see you and her in a New York office together, and he'll throw a net around us dat even Remy can't clear." Remy said with utter conviction. Langstrom didn't have the same 'evil for evil's sake' that Whelan had cultivated, but when it came to the protection of the Agency and the United States, he could be far more ruthless without the slightest hesitation. "Until Remy can find a way to make sure dat he's only looking outside de US for Gambit, I can't come back."
"I'll make him go away then," Betsy moved to get up. "It'll be taken care of and then you won't have to worry about that bastard anymore."
"No, you won't. If it was as easy as just taking Langstrom out, Remy would have done it already." Remy took her arm, and eased her back to the seat. "Taking out Langstrom is declaring war on de CIA. Dat's one we can't win."
"This is utter shite." Betsy murmured, looking darkly at him. "You can't spend the rest of your life waiting Langstrom out. And as much as I'm sure everyone is loving the free reign over the Brownstone, it's better for the the lot when you're around. You ground Amanda. Jubilee finds strength. Doug is courageous and Marie-Ange...." Betsy sighed. "How long?"
"It won't be de rest of my life. Merde, dis isn't what I want either, Betts. It's just dat de dangers involved... it's not even just for protection. If dey knew dat Remy not still de psychopath dat dey created, dey'd be able to use everyone against me. Morlocks, de school, even Xavier; I've got two decades of completely illegal operations in my head, and I'm de best dey ever had. Only way for Langstrom to be safe is if I'm forced to work for him, dey eliminate me, or if dey believe dat my only interest is making money and killing wit'out restriction." LeBeau shook his head. "It's self interest too, Betts. I don't want to go back to being de chief assassin for de Agency because dey can threaten to eliminate 'manda, or 'ro, or you if Remy say no."
"Fine," Betsy grounded out. "I understand this isn't an easy fix but for Chrissake, Remy. There has to be another way. Something we haven't thought of just yet."
"You come up wit' any bright ideas, Remy all ears. Leading assassins 'round Europe and staying just one step ahead isn't as fun as it might sound." LeBeau picked up his cup and took a long sip. "So, Tante Braddock, dat de reason you came all de way to Paris?" He said, the lightly mocking tone obviously affectionate.
"Oh believe me, I will." Betsy retorted. She turned the rim of her cup, taking in Remy's words. "What? Don't believe I'd travel all this way for a visit? Rem, I'm hurt. Truly."
"You could be, if it wasn't for de fact dat you're just as up to you neck in work as Remy is." He pointed out reasonably. Vacations were mostly something that happened to other people in thier lives. "If dis just a lunch date, bien, but dat would be a surprise, chere."
"Surprise," Betsy said lamely,wagging her fingers at him. After a beat, she shook her head. "There has been some rumblings lately. A slight undercurrent that has me concerned. I think it'd be wise for you to go under for a while until it settles."
"Really?" Remy sat back in his face, considering what Betsy had said. He hadn't run across anything more than the usual dangers coming near him, but he knew the measure of her opinion too well. If she said something was up, it meant she'd found something he'd missed. "Well, Remy was planning to head to Africa next. Maybe try South America instead. We need someone to swing through dere, and Remy's got enough contacts in Rio to lose anyone from dat point."
The Cajun dug out some bills and dropped them on the table. He got up and slung his jacket over his arm. "Merci Betts. I'll give you a call next week, see what's on de threat board." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Remy miss you too."
"Be safe," Betsy murmured before spending one moment longer than necessary staring at Remy's retreating form before getting up and walking the other way.
Paris in the fall. Despite all the issues and cliches, it was still a romantic city. In a little bistro off of Rue Domat, close to the water ferry along the Seine, Remy LeBeau sipped his third cup of their excellent coffee and made notes on a pad of paper and his palm pilot. To the casual observer, he looked like a a business man doing some work on the weekend in more comfortable surrounding, or maybe some kind of academic arranging his notes. With his suit jacket slung over his chair with his trenchcoat, and white shirt opened loosely at the throat, he looked nothing like the kind of man who was dodging assassins all over Europe.
Generally Remy operated rarely in Paris. His french never gave up the Acadian accents of his use, and he'd never become fluent in omore traditional Parisian language, more comfortable with the mottled creole of New Orleans. Still, it was an excellent place to lay low and catch up on work for a few days before moving on again. Another week in Africa was looming, and Remy did not relish the prospect. Africa made it very easy to die ugly, and it chewed up even the best operatives after a while. He idly wondered what it would be like to visit it with Ororo, eyes drifting over to a couple sitting on the patio, talking closely.
That would have to come later. Remy waved his hand for another cup of coffee.
"Oui, monsieur," a waiter snapped to attention before turning away.
A slender hand appeared with a fresh cup of coffee, slipping it just below Remys's elbow. "I'd laugh at how fast he turned tricks almost as well as he got coffee but that wouldn't be fair." A well-manicured hand traveled up Remy's arm and followed the line of his collar, caressing the nape of his neck. Lips came down and placed a not-so chaste kiss on his cheek. A special rendez-vous for all those watching. The hand continued along the path towards the other arm as its owner took a seat next to him. Elisabeth Braddock, Betsy to those who know her well enough to duck, sat down in the seat next to him. She was dressed in an oversized black hat, shades and a ridiculously long form-fitted black dress. Betsy smiled sweetly at Remy through her glasses as she spoke. "It's good to see you. I take it all is well?"
Remy grinned wryly at her. "See dat you haven't forgotton how to make an entrance, Betts. We playing illicit affair for de crowd? Kind of a stereotype in Paris, chere."
He took a sip from the cup and set his work aside. "Things are a little hectic. Since de Agency gave SHIELD a paddling over de Deathbird incident, it looks like dey got a lot of funding back on de books. Langstrom's trying to put a net over de whole damn EU. How's things in Britain?"
"I like to be pragmatic when it comes to work." Betsy said, crossing her legs and turning towards Remy in his seat. She looked casually around the outside cafe and lowered her voice. "Typical bureaucratic reaction and hopefully it'll blow over but that's not the reason for this visit." Betsy paused, taking her shades off casually and looked piercingly at Remy. "I've come to ask you to come back with me, Rem. It's not right for you to be out here, alone."
"Not going to happen, Betts. Langstrom gets even a hint dat I'm anything other than Gambit, de devil he thinks he knows, and he'll start digging hard. He knows Remy associated with de Morlocks, he knows Sarah's name, and he knows your rep from STRIKE and de school. He bothers to see you and her in a New York office together, and he'll throw a net around us dat even Remy can't clear." Remy said with utter conviction. Langstrom didn't have the same 'evil for evil's sake' that Whelan had cultivated, but when it came to the protection of the Agency and the United States, he could be far more ruthless without the slightest hesitation. "Until Remy can find a way to make sure dat he's only looking outside de US for Gambit, I can't come back."
"I'll make him go away then," Betsy moved to get up. "It'll be taken care of and then you won't have to worry about that bastard anymore."
"No, you won't. If it was as easy as just taking Langstrom out, Remy would have done it already." Remy took her arm, and eased her back to the seat. "Taking out Langstrom is declaring war on de CIA. Dat's one we can't win."
"This is utter shite." Betsy murmured, looking darkly at him. "You can't spend the rest of your life waiting Langstrom out. And as much as I'm sure everyone is loving the free reign over the Brownstone, it's better for the the lot when you're around. You ground Amanda. Jubilee finds strength. Doug is courageous and Marie-Ange...." Betsy sighed. "How long?"
"It won't be de rest of my life. Merde, dis isn't what I want either, Betts. It's just dat de dangers involved... it's not even just for protection. If dey knew dat Remy not still de psychopath dat dey created, dey'd be able to use everyone against me. Morlocks, de school, even Xavier; I've got two decades of completely illegal operations in my head, and I'm de best dey ever had. Only way for Langstrom to be safe is if I'm forced to work for him, dey eliminate me, or if dey believe dat my only interest is making money and killing wit'out restriction." LeBeau shook his head. "It's self interest too, Betts. I don't want to go back to being de chief assassin for de Agency because dey can threaten to eliminate 'manda, or 'ro, or you if Remy say no."
"Fine," Betsy grounded out. "I understand this isn't an easy fix but for Chrissake, Remy. There has to be another way. Something we haven't thought of just yet."
"You come up wit' any bright ideas, Remy all ears. Leading assassins 'round Europe and staying just one step ahead isn't as fun as it might sound." LeBeau picked up his cup and took a long sip. "So, Tante Braddock, dat de reason you came all de way to Paris?" He said, the lightly mocking tone obviously affectionate.
"Oh believe me, I will." Betsy retorted. She turned the rim of her cup, taking in Remy's words. "What? Don't believe I'd travel all this way for a visit? Rem, I'm hurt. Truly."
"You could be, if it wasn't for de fact dat you're just as up to you neck in work as Remy is." He pointed out reasonably. Vacations were mostly something that happened to other people in thier lives. "If dis just a lunch date, bien, but dat would be a surprise, chere."
"Surprise," Betsy said lamely,wagging her fingers at him. After a beat, she shook her head. "There has been some rumblings lately. A slight undercurrent that has me concerned. I think it'd be wise for you to go under for a while until it settles."
"Really?" Remy sat back in his face, considering what Betsy had said. He hadn't run across anything more than the usual dangers coming near him, but he knew the measure of her opinion too well. If she said something was up, it meant she'd found something he'd missed. "Well, Remy was planning to head to Africa next. Maybe try South America instead. We need someone to swing through dere, and Remy's got enough contacts in Rio to lose anyone from dat point."
The Cajun dug out some bills and dropped them on the table. He got up and slung his jacket over his arm. "Merci Betts. I'll give you a call next week, see what's on de threat board." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Remy miss you too."
"Be safe," Betsy murmured before spending one moment longer than necessary staring at Remy's retreating form before getting up and walking the other way.
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Date: 2008-10-07 12:21 am (UTC)WHAT?
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Date: 2008-10-07 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 01:04 am (UTC)*melts* That's what Amanda keeps saying. :)
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Date: 2008-10-07 09:40 am (UTC)