xp_logs | Remy meets Manuel

Bad things are said.

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Manuel's walking through the Ground Floor of the Mansion, clearly looking for someone. No open doorway goes un-peeked at, no dark shadow unchecked. He's using the cane today, but more as affectation than serious need for support.

Remy smiled thinly as he watched the painful progress of the dark haired young man. Paranoia at it's finest, justified after the madness of the last few weeks. His steps were hesitant and slightly pained, and something in Remy's mind said to take out the cane first. He pushed the random thought down, and settled back into his perch on the couch, knowing the man would find him soon enough.

A random feeling flitted across his senses, and he apparently found what he was looking for. He started to walk towards Remy's couch, a determined look upon his face. "Excuse me, you are Remy, yes?" he called over towards the reclining Cajun. "I would speak with you."

Remy nodded, resting his chin on his hand. "Dat right, homme." He said. "Don' t'ink we got any business right now, 'cept for your debt. Got somet'ing on you mind?"

Manuel nods once, briskly. "It is regarding the debt. I will have your money for you by the end of the week." His body language practically screams, "Wanna make something of it?"

"Bein. Den Remy not have t' charge interest." Remy grinned, and fished into his pockets. Opening up a window, he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke ring out into the frosty air. "Thought you were rich, homme? Way you talk, anyway."

Manuel shrugged. "The family is rich. I am ... less so." Which is a very polite way of putting "destitute" on the income forms. Manuel then squints at Remy, and adjusts his stance slightly. "You're the one that purple girl is all messed up about."

"Clarice? Don' know if Remy used de term 'messed up', homme. Femme's been avoiding me dese days, but dat ain't exactly an uncommon t'ing. I'm sure she come around soon." Remy said, taking another deep drag. "Why? You got some t'ing for her dat Remy don't know about?"

Manuel smirks. "I've got more for her than you could ever possibly know. _IF_ I choose to use it. She's a little ... flighty."

"So you interested in her conversation den, homme?" Remy said, but his eyes narrowed slightly. Manuel's posture was screaming challenge at him, and Remy was not about to be unbalanced by this famine posterboy.

Manuel laughs at that. "Conversation? With _her_? You have _got_ to be kidding. She has nothing to say and no way to say it. Typical American."

"Den why her being flighty matter?" Remy leaned against the window ledge. "Seems like you got you priorities twisted, homme."

Manuel leaned against the wall casually. "It is very simple. She has no idea what she is going to do until she's halfway through doing it. You should know that, if the gossip is actually true."

Remy shrugged, radiating a false innocence. "You hear all sorts of t'ings dese days. Femme decides what she wants, who is Remy t' stop dem?"

Manuel can sense the insincerity even WITHOUT using his power. "There is that." he says with a smirk. "And you _never say no, do you?"

"Not unless she ugly, fat or old, homme." Remy threw back. "‘Pect dat not somet'ing you used to. Least without de power, course."

Manuel's eyebrows try to merge with his hairline. "No is not a word that is often used with any seriousness in my presence." he says, unconsciously sounding _just_ like Emma for a moment or two. "At least, not for too long." he adds with a smirk.

"Least not till de credit card comes out." Remy smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Still, guess you got to use what you can," he blew a plume of smoke right at Manuel. "'least in your condition."

Manuel inhales right through the smoke cloud without any discomfort - years on the streets and in the clubs have inured him to nicotine smoke. "Are you challenging my intentions?" he asks conversationally.

"Not at all, homme. Just you charm. Remy used to know an homme like you in de clubs. Always went home wit' de girl he choose. Mind you, dat was because he used roofies like water on dem. Figure it basically de same t'ing." Remy was openly mocking the Spaniard.

Manuel shrugs. "Roofies?" he asks, somewhat curious. He got the gist of the statement through the feelings behind it. "And just picking someone out for sex is ... uninspiring. It is much better to draw them in, let them believe what they want, get them to bend themselves into whatever shape you might wish - and then pull back the curtain and end the little passion play. It is very satisfying."

"Sounds more like a pretty sad little excuse, homme." Remy said, flicking his cigarette out the window and lighting up another. "Trying t' prove how big a man you are by twisting up others. Guess dat what happens when you limited."

"Limited? I don't think so. And when it's them, or me I win. Every time." he says calmly, before reaching for Remy's pack of smokes.

"Win what?" Remy snorted. "What you win, homme. Dat like calling yourself a great lover because you knock de femmes out so you can fuck dem. Sound more like you don't know how t' get what you want, so you got t' use your power and money t' do it. Thought only old men needed dat crutch." He said, an obvious intimation to his cane.

"Sanity? A roof over my head, food to eat, shelter? Safety? An evening's diversion, the pleasure of ruining the deserving or the undeserving? And I can get what I want. Getting is too simple. I prefer to make things more - interesting." He shakes loose a smoke out of Remy's pack of smokes, and looks for a lighter.

Remy leaned over and lit the cigarette with the tip of his finger. "You need you power t' do all dat? Homme, all it take is charm and looks. Maybe den it good you have dat power afterall."

"Sure - if I wanted to sleep in a gutter and go for Heroin Chic. I want more from my life than to just survive." Manuel retorts before taking a nice long drag on the cigarette.

"Dat your choice, homme." Remy said, shaking his head. "Fact is dat some femmes ain't dat easy t' control, and you always going t' be left out of dat group."

Manuel can't help but nod to that little revelation. "Of course." he agrees. "But the second half of your statement is wrong."

"You t'ink so?" Remy said

Manuel smiles. "I know so. It's simple. Given enough time and work, anyone can be had."

"By you? Dat so..." Remy puffed on his cigarette. "Tell me you got someone in mind other den de pretty purple femme?"

"Hrm. I think that just about everyone, save for that thing with the bones, is fair game. And even the thing with the bones could be fun if handled in the right way." he says, after thinking about it for a moment. "And it's not like you don't want them all, too. Do not lie to me, I can sense it as clear as day."

"Remy already know how t' get dem, homme. Don' need t' use any powers t' make dem friendly."

"That's not what I said. It's amazing that these people can't see it. You ... you can't stop, can you?" he comments around puffs of cigarette smoke. "Not even if you wanted to."

"Never not wanted t', so a little hard t' say, homme." Remy said, watching Manuel through narrowed eyes. "What you got on your mind den?"

“Me? Nothing in particular. But there are some who feel that you're the one to talk to about some sort of upcoming trip, yes?" he asks.

"De club? Saturday. Remy going wit whoever got brains enough t' sneak out of dis place. You planning on heading over, homme?"

Manuel laughs. "I think I will, actually. It could be amusing."

"Always is, homme. Taste what de town outside dis place have t' offer."

“Sounds like an arrangement, then. Has transportation been arranged?"

"Dat Monet got limos coming on de highway. Maybe bugs too. She don' make much sense t' Remy."

Manuel perks up at the mention of Monet. "M is going as well? Excellent! The event is looking better and better."

"Dat you new target, homme?" Remy said conversationally. "Tits are worth it, vrai, but she got some weird habits."

Manuel smirks. "She's old money, and very attractive. Definitely worth it, and a worthy companion to a de la Rocha. She would do well."

"So, she know you alive yet den?" Remy's smile was a slash in his face.

Manuel's eyes flashed red for a second, as he removed the pettiness from Remy's current emotional makeup. "Of course she does." he smirks.

"Really?" Remy tilted his head to one side. "She didn't mention you at all, homme."

"Of course she didn't. Not to someone like _you_." he smirks.

"T'ink so? Maybe Remy use your technique den? Give his credit card
first next time."

Manuel just smirks. "Give it up, wharf rat. You're not anywhere close to her league."

"T'ink so?" Remy's eyes glittered dangerously. "And without your power, you t'ink she or anyone else know you alive, homme? Right now, you got less den Remy to you name. T'ink you going to beat me without lots of money and all de fake love you can feed into dem?

"See, you're wrong again. I've got breeding, charm, and style to my name. All learned before the power manifested. I've skied the Alps, swam in the Med, and ridden in the Orient Express - before I was seven. You can't relate to her, you have no idea what her life has been like. And I don't need to beat you. It would be a waste of my time. Do you think it matters in the _slightest_ what you do with anyone? Any trauma you inflict is easily overcome, short of death itself. Is that it, Remy? Fancy yourself a real lady-killer?"

"Dat you problem, homme. You can only t'ink in trauma." Remy said, blowing a smoke ring at the ceiling. "Remy fancies himself a lover, and lots of femmes agree wit dat. You got arrogance, homme, Remy give you dat. Arrogance get you a long way, but not as far as you need. So, if you don't care what Remy t'ink and you so far above me, what do you want wit me here?" He leaned back, eyes calculating but his mouth still smirking. Manuel wasn't getting defensive vibes from LeBeau, more curiosity and intrigue. There was a layer behind his emotions, unlike anything he'd seen before, which both interested and worried him.

And that layer was just begging to be explored some. So, his eyes blazing red, he reached out with his power to bring it to the forefront, examine it more closely. "I don't want _anything_ with you here. I incurred a debt, and I shall repay it. Everything else has just been amusing conversation. Why do you challenge me so? Are you intimidated?"

"Intimidated?" Remy snorted. The layer pulsed red as Empath touched it, and something changed in Remy's voice and demeanor. Something cruel looked out of his eyes and skewed Manuel. "By a rich boy who was used like a toilet for a year? How much of your style survived that?" Manuel snapped back like he'd been struck, and nearly gagged at the sadistic glee that flooded his power. "I'd take your eyes first." He cut the connection, and Remy seemed to sag slightly.

"You are one seriously disturbed come fana, do you know this? Take your damage and be gone." Manuel still looks slightly green from his exposure to only-in-the-asylum levels of sadistic glee.

(OOC: The "come fana" is "eater of dick cheese")

"Remy was here first, homme." LeBeau said, masking his sudden shock in bravado. Something in him was ready to go for a knife, and he knew with utter certainty that he could kill the man in front of him. Some else urged him to cut his throat and pull Manuel's tongue through it, and leave the body for that Frost woman. Remy quashed it all, hiding his shock with another cigarette, seeking some calm.

Those feelings are transparent to an empath, and Manuel sees them all. "Vete a la mierda tu puta baracha" he says in Castillian before heading back the way he came

(OOC Trans: Fuck off, you drunken whore)

"Do the same, rentboy." Remy responded flawlessly to the retreating Empath, not noticing that either the insult or the response were both exchanged in perfect Castillian Spanish)

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