xp_logs | (no subject)

Monet slumped up the stairs. It was definately a slump, which meant that it was working against the natural inclination of her stroppy sandels, hipster jeans, and very yellow halter neck. However, having just finished a long and boring maths class, her perk had run out. She was almost back in her room when her slump was rudely interrupted by Remy.

“Chere, might want t’ slow down on de steps.” Remy said, neatly sidestepping her petulantly posed form. She glared at him through dark bangs, and he smiled wider. “Less you intending t’ announce your presence?”

“I have people to do that for me, LeBeau.”

“Dat right? Haven’t seen dem about.” Remy said, obviously enjoying her amply filled out halter top.

“Haven’t seen anyone I wanted to know.” She replied, not reacting to his gaze, except to return it with obvious disinterest.

“But chere,” Remy’s voice brimmed with fake pleading,” Have you locked hard enough?” He smiled back.

“Again, if I want someone, they will be there.” Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Rich means not having to wait, you know.”

“Ever heard of playing hard t’ get, chere?”

“Not at my tax bracket, Remy.” She said, brushing past him and heading for her room.

“Dat mean I should send that Shaw homme up now or after de manicure?” Remy said, and she stopped dead.

“Just because I may not play games doesn’t mean I sleep with anyone,” She snapped. “What it means, is that if I want something, or someone, I do something about it.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if I wanted that crawler Shaw, I wouldn’t need your help.”

Remy smiled. “So dere be other qualifications you look for, chere, other den money?”

“You must think you’re being very clever, aren’t you?” Monet snarled. “You’re very course LeBeau. Low and common. Very obvious.”

“Dat might be so.” Remy smirked.

“And how long fo you think you can get by on that smile?” She said, and his grin faded.

“T’ink you got some insight into Remy, chere?”

“Does it require much? If you can’t drink it, you want to fuck it. And the purple girl was in very poor taste, I thought.”

“And gettin’ de human date rape drug t’ help in your conquests was classy, non?”

“Oh, because its so fucking hard to fuck the scared and fucked up. Not that ethics should stop you, because you stand no chance of ever being anyone if you go being moral about it.”

“Remy nevered claimed dat he was moral, chere. Only dat he know his femmes are willing.”

“And children are so willing.” She snorted.

“More den you t’ink.” He said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. “Least closer t’ honest den his targets.”

“Now we’re arguing about de la Rocha’s fucking habits? Because as far as I can tell, you’re too cocky to feel he’s threatening your supply of willing cunts and I don’t care.” She took a deep and obviously calming breath, reaching for her door handle.

“Of course you don’t care. You have your papas cash and why should anyt’ing disturb your royal highness’s uselessness.”

“You’re stretching now, LeBeau. What’s not? You planning to call me a lezzo?”

“You brought up de homme, chere. Fact is dat you got enough t’ call yourself what you want, from dyke t’ champion Everett climber. Don change de fact dat it all from pare’s wallet, and not any talent you got.”

“Evidently in your world, any 16 year old should be working and have a fucking pension plan, yeah? That’s a fabulous life you lead.”

“It my life, and not someone else’s dat been paid for by others.”

“Take a hike, arsehole. If you can’t think of anything more cutting, maybe you should go back to your skulking around and casual theft.”

“It never casual, chere.” Remy said, tossing her wallet back to her. “Just easy. De fact dat you just another spoiled rich femme, and don know nothing ‘bout nothing.”

Monet’s jaw set as she flipped open the wallet and then was a blur and she hand his arm in a grip like a vice. “And you will return my visa,” she hissed, lifting him off his feet, one hand gripping the back of his pants and the other still on his wrist.

Remy looked down at his feet, six inches off the ground and his eyes crossed as the wedgie registered. His free arm twisted around and he held out the requested card.

“You can make all the insults you want. You can greek me without lube. But if you ever-“ She shook him like a rag doll. “Every touch the platinum card again, they’ll be collecting you up in a whole box of ziplock bags. Is that clear?” She shook him again, and he grimaced.

“Oui.”

Monet shook him once more, the accepted this, lowering him back to the floor. “Good.” She said, with a towering calm. “Was there anything else you wanted to say, or are you over your PMS induced hissyfit?”

Backing away, Remy adjusted his pants, his jacket and his pride. “If I t’ink of anyt’ing, I tell you.” He assured her.

“Good. You know,” she paused, a brief smile coming to her face. “I feel much better already.” And she slammed the door in Remy’s face.

Remy took a brief look around to make sure no one had witnessed the exchange and slunk back off to his room.