xp_logs | Log: Remy and Ororo

Backdated: Remy takes Ororo out to dinner for her birthday.

Ororo had specifically requested a quiet, low-key birthday. There was no call for a big celebration and she felt no need to mark the beginning of her 29th year with any fanfare. Which was of course all well and good, but it didn't explain why she was sitting alone in Remy's apartment, having driven into the city that evening and let herself in on his instructions. Low-key was one thing. Spending your birthday being stood up was entirely another.

At that moment, LeBeau was high above the city, dropping rapidly through the web of rooftops, fire escapes, and landings to reach the top of the brownstone. He eeled past the ladders, scaling the side of the building and came in through his own window, dropping almost soundlessly to the floor in front of where Ororo was sitting.

"Salut, chere," he said, straightening up.

"Remy," she murmured, one hand rising to press to her chest. "I was beginning to wonder where you were. Is everything all right?"

"You say dat like you think Remy got a knack for getting into trouble or something." LeBeau said, snatching a kiss from her. "I know dat you wanted quiet and low key, so I arranged for a private table at de top of de Rockefeller Centre. Dey technically closed for renovations still, so it going to be just us, and de Centre's executive chef serving. He used to cook for de State Department years ago, and owes me a favour for getting him out of Haiti alive. Dat sound like what you were thinking?"

Ororo blinked, a bit shocked by the sudden, unexpected opulence. "I am sure that will be very nice," she demurred, looking down at the less-than-formal outfit she was wearing.

"We can buy you a dress on de way over, if dat make you feel more comfortable." Remy said, catching the quick glance at her outfit. Remy was dressed in much the same level of casual, obviously not too worried about appearances in the empty dining room. He slipped an arm around her. "It's just us, chere, and Remy can't remember a time dat you don't look beautiful."

"As I cannot remember a time without outrageous flattery," came the reply along with a wider, more genuine smile. "I suppose if the only eyes watching us will be pigeons' then a change of clothes will not be required."

"Flattery is important. Least, dat's what all dose magazines that Mark leaves 'round de office say. Dat and apparently I'm a winter. Don't know what dat means, but it leaves Marie-Ange wit' dis calculating expression." Remy joked, escorting her down to the cab.

"Beware the color palette," Ororo intoned as the taxi pulled away from the curb. She settled cozily into the crook of Remy's arm, looking out the window at the tall, dark buildings that bordered the street and multicolored lights shining down from various fixtures.

Even if you didn't like cities, it was hard to deny that New York was beautiful at night. The tall buildings that comprised the Rockefeller Centre loomed above them as they pulled up to the front, and walked through the sweeping lobby. Remy had once pointed out the space where the Deigo Rivera mural had been destroyed on creation, a random fact absorbed during one of the many cover identities the man had used in his career.

The elevator to the 'Top of the Rock' had a sign saying 'closed for renovation' on it, but a young man in chef's whites was waiting for them, and unlocked it for them before heading off. The ride up was long, but worth every moment as the doors opened on to the panoramic view of the city. It didn't matter that the area was strewn with construction materials and protective covers. Outside of the glass, one could simply turn and take in all of New York City alight.

Ororo swiftly did just this, an enormous smile growing on her lips as she took in the panorama before her. "This is how I like to see this city," she murmured, leaning close to the glass and spreading her palm to touch it. "From above it looks almost beautiful."

"I remember de first time I saw it. Actually, both first times." Remy grinned. "One advantage of a psychic lobotomy. First time was in 1988. Came in by helicopter for urban training. It looked like someone threw stars at de ground. Second time was 'bout a year before Betts picked me up. I woke up, lying on de sidewalk, staring up de side of de Empire State Building. No one else gets two first impressions of de city."

He touched her back gently, his fingertips light through the fabric of her shirt.

"I lived here when I was very small," she replied, turning to glance at him. "Though I do not remember it. The first time I do remember seeing it was when I was flying back with the Professor - it was during the daytime, and I hated the sight of it. It looked so crowded and overwhelming... I wanted nothing more than to turn back right then and there."

"And now?" Remy said, a touch playfully. He knew that Ororo was not comfortable in big cities, but had been drawn back to them in one way or other all her life. He couldn't get her out of the city on her birthday right now, but he could at least get her to the best possible place to view it.

Ororo turned, slipping her hands around Remy's waist and smiling up at him. "Now I would not want to be anywhere else. Except perhaps..."

"Dey tell me spending de entire time in bed or de shower, or de garden, is some kind of just physical relationship." Remy grinned, arms easily going around her. "Wit' you, chere, guess dat I can't help wanting as much as possible. Besides, even saving Dominic's life won't get him to forgive me if we pass up de meal to have sex on de table surrounded by de city."

"Well then," she said, leaning up to place an entirely chaste peck on Remy's lips, "I suppose we will have to behave nicely. I would not want Dominic to be disappointed in your conduct." She grinned mischievously, the lights behind her reflecting off the glass and illuminating her hair and eyes with highlights of silver.

"He does use knives for a living. Remy might end up missing something."