xp_logs | Remy, Amanda - Wednesday night

(OOC: wow, been a while since I put those two names in a header... )

Things are going down to the wire and Remy checks on Amanda's progress, somehow not getting a lightning bolt in the face. Then there's a bar and the world's most depressing pep talk, where it's obvious these two still have a lot in common, differences aside.

The trickiest part of glamours was getting the right pictures... The various FBI agents had been simple enough, going off the stock photos supplied by Madelyn from some of her connections (all retired or dead agents, nothing traceable), but what Remy needed of her in the office itself... Amanda was wrangling with Photoshop, glad for Logan's art classes, when there was a tap on the door.

The rented house had numerous guest bedrooms, and one of them had been quickly converted into a computer lab by Doug and Forge, who had filled the place with equipment of all kinds. Le Beau was the brute hacker type; his work with computers involved some tricks that might have surprised even Doug, but none of them were pretty or elegant. For that reason, he mostly stayed away from the lab. But they were starting to run late, and timing was particularly crucial. Hopefully he could impress that on Amanda without getting a lightning bolt in the face.

"Come in," she called, not looking up from the computer. It was all in the details. Nearly there, tho'...

Remy opened the door and walked in to a rather spectacular display of gore. For the dozenth time, he considered exactly how insane this plan really was and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. "We running behind." Was all he said inside, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Workin' as fast as I can," she replied shortly. "An' you didn't give me much of a time frame." She glanced up at him, bruising still shadowing her eye. "I could hurry, but you'll get a botch job, an' considerin' it's me in the firin' line, I'd rather get it right."

"Not exactly something dat I can ask for an extension on, 'manda. You going to be ready or not?" Remy said, not the slightest bit of pity in his voice. There was something mercurial about Le Beau in Las Vegas; a constant switch between conman and drill sargeant as the floating pieces of the plan came together.

"It'll be ready. Don't get yer knickers in a twist." Amanda turned her attention back to the screen. There, that should do it. She hit 'Print' and got up stiffly from the chair, working the kinks out of her back. "Just need t' get the spell focussed on the picture, an' we're set."

"Good. And de rest of de charms? Dey going to be ready for Friday night?" Remy said, his mind flicking through the lists of things still needed to be done, and finding them distressingly full.

"Craig sent the 'don't see me' charms this mornin' t' the post office box you gave me," she said, pulling the picture out of the printer and turning to face him. "I'll hand 'em out once I'm done with this. The rest of the glamours're done - I'm doin' those the usual way, with the components, since I've only got one hands-free one in me." She gave him a wry look. "I'm gunna need a bloody recharge at the end of all this - yer expectin' a lot."

"Oui, I am." Remy nodded. "You going to be good enough to do it?" He said without heat. It wasn't him needling her to be cruel, but rather a surgical swipe at her abilities; an unspoken question of whether she was going to be able to handle the pressure.

"I can handle it," she replied quietly. "I ain't the same person you remember in February. I've been gettin' a lot of trainin', an' I've worked with Dom. I know this is important, an' I can do it." She shrugged. "It'll take just about everythin' I've got, but I won't let you down."

"Bein. Den follow me." Remy said, and walked out of the room. Amanda blinked in surprise, and had just enough sense to grab her jacket as she followed Remy down to the garage. They had rented several cars for the job, and a cheap black convertible was among them that had been instantly taken over by Le Beau. He threw his coat over the back and got in.

Amanda followed, wanting to ask where they were going, but not wanting another of those smug replies of his. She understood the need for discipline, but she was tired of the too-clever-by-half attitude that went with it. She fished in her jacket for her cigarettes as he pulled the car out of the garage, pushing the lighter on the dash in. "Yer turn t' buy the milk again?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Non. Remy planning to drive you outside of town, kill you and bury you in de desert." He said with all apparent seriousness, so matter of fact that Amanda paused. He started the car and backed out.

"Better cancel me dinner plans then," she said, recovering her composure by reminding herself he needed her for the job still. "Want one?" she asked, offering him the packet of cigarettes. "Since I ain't gunna get t' finish 'em with you killin' me an' all."

"Merci." Remy took one without looking away from the road, and ignited it with the tip of his finger. After a few quiet minutes of driving through the suburbs, they turned off towards the larger arteries, heading for the Strip. "You and Lee going to be able to do your part without killing each other before you're finished?"

It was a fair enough question. "You won't have any problems from me," she said at last, flicking ash from her cigarette into the car's ashtray. "Like I said, this is important. 'M not gunna let my personal shite get in the way. Just don't expect us t' be bestest mates at the end of it."

"Who you friends wit' not really my domain, 'manda." Remy turned the car again, and suddenly they were in the tunnel of light along the Strip. Most of the street was closed to cars, and they navigated a number of turns, still under the neon. "Long as we get out of dis, you can go back to killing each other in de hallway."

Amanda blinked at the multitude of lights, neon of all shades... "Been there, done that," she said, shrugging and taking another long drag - most of the rest of the group were non-smokers, and she hadn't really had a lot of time for sitting on the back step getting her nicotine fix. "Is there a big chance of us not comin' out of this, then?" she asked, losing the cocky tone.

"De likelihood is dat some of us not going home, oui." Remy stopped the car outside of a low key but expensive-looking bar. "Most likely Haroun, Nathan or I. But, if something goes very wrong, it could be anyone."

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to think of what would happen to Manuel if anything happened to her. Or of anything happening to Nate. "Then we'd better make sure nothin' goes wrong, then," she said, almost briskly, glancing at him before looking at the bar. "Not bad. Yer shout, I take it?"

"Something like dat." Remy pulled on his suit jacket, and walked up to the doorman. There was a brief exchange, and the man opened the door and let them in, looking with obvious distaste at Amanda. There was something very different about Le Beau here and now. He was working out of the place in his head that Gambit had created, and it was unnerving to see how easy some parts came to him. They took a seat in the very back of the bar, in thick leather chairs. "But you wrong about one thing. It doesn't actually matter what we do or don't do."

The doorman's attitude didn't bother Amanda overmuch - she'd seen it more times than she could count in her life. It just meant they'd bought the outside package, accepted that as all she was, and that she was happy with in this kind of situation. "So it's up t' luck, or fate, or whatever you call it?" she asked, reaching forward for the ashtray and tapping her half-burned cigarette into it. "'Cause that don't exactly make me comfortable. Then again, 's not about me bein' comfortable, is it? Any of this?" She gestured around them at the bar, the clientele regarding her with sneers.

"Exactly." Remy's grin was very white in the dim light of the bar. "One security guard in de wrong place, one slightly inquisitive maid, and all of us die extremely violent deaths." Remy waved for the waitress. "Doesn't matter if you a good person, a bad person; it just is. Isn't it fun?" He finished, propping his chin up on his hand.

She grinned, briefly. "Hell of an object lesson into the ways of the world," she said, looking up as the waitress approached, perhaps a little reluctantly. "Scotch, no ice," she said, knowing it would be a good blend without her having to specify one. The place wouldn't be so gauche as to card her here, but she had the fake ID Domino had given her tucked into her wallet anyway.

"Bottle of Cristal." Remy said, instantly dismissing the woman. "De fact is dat is de situation we always going to live in. One day, someone will get lucky and half de mansion going to be gone. Or only one or two of dose X-Men going to come home. So, better de students learn dat fact early. Being uncomfortable makes you edgy, wary. Keeping you looking in de shadows. Might just keep you alive on day."

"Pete thinks like that," she mused. "He wanted so bad t' try an' let me have a normal life at the school, but after Columbia, he realised that weren't ever gunna happen. So he hasn't stepped in with me trainin' with Dom when she's in town, or goin' on jobs with her." She grinned suddenly, amused. "Preachin' t' the choir here, Le Beau."

"So, dat brings us here, playing tag with a man who is both insane and brilliant, and just happens to have enough money to buy de school, turn it into a parking lot, and have us all kneecapped in de process." Remy paused as the waitress returned with the drinks, and poured himself a glass of champagne. "And half de 'crew' on dis job are acting like it a field trip."

"I'm startin' t' get why yer've been ridin' our arses so hard," she said, her grin turning wry as she sipped her drink. As she'd thought, it was a good blend, although she'd bet it wasn't the best the place had. "You givin' everyone this pep talk, or are you expectin' me t' have some sort of clout with the rest of 'em? 'Cause I don't, you know. Clarice an' Doug, maybe, but that'd be it."

"Non. Remy telling you because you one of de ones wit' de best chance of surviving if things do go bad. And when we're dead, someone going to have to get dem out fast and tell de Professor what happened." He wasn't wearing either his contacts or his sunglasses for once, and his eyes were two red dots in the shadowed hollows of his face. "Out of de ones likely left, you de one dey going to listen to."

Well, that was one way to wipe the grin off her face, wry or not. "'S lot of responsibility..." she said, still processing the whole concept and not liking it at all. But he was right, the bastard. She stubbed out the cigarette, leaned back in her seat, eyes on his face. "What makes you think they'd listen t' me?" The fact she'd survive was one she accepted more easily.

"De ones dat don't trust you enough to listen fear you enough to do what you say." Remy took a long sip, and refilled his glass. "Dey know you'll kill to get out, something dat most of dem are not ready to do, so dey'll follow. Simple as dat."

Well, she had asked. "Fair enough," she said, her second sip of her drink a much longer one this time. "If worst comes t' worst... I'll do everythin' I can t' get 'em clear. But that goes without sayin'."

"Dat's right, it does." Remy looked around the bar and smiled again; a cold and uncomforting slash of teeth in his face. "Been a long time since Remy been to Vegas. Place built by criminals and blood feuds. Lot of money here just for de asking."

"I can see the attraction," Amanda replied, but without malice. "How long we talkin' here? The others probably didn't do the maths on that post of yers, but yer certainly older 'n you look."

"'bout four years now, but Remy first came here around '85 or so. De last gasp of de old style mob casinos den, and a lot of de Agency money was channeled through dere vaults." Remy emptied his second glass and refilled it, his eyes scanning around the room. "Dey act like it's sanitized now. Just 'nother theme park wit' gambling, but de money draws de blood like a black hole, 'manda. Dis place going to be dirty until it burns to de ground."

"'S got that kind of vibe t' it. Can feel it. Sets me teeth on edge." She raised her eyebrow at the rate he was drinking, but figured he well and truly knew his limits. He wouldn't be getting plastered this close to the deadline. "'S shiny enough on the outside, but it's rotten t' the core. Won't be sorry t' leave it, easy money or not."

"Just wait until you see Marrakesh, or Rio, or Madripoor. De world is full of bastards, 'manda. Some of dem even worse den Remy, if you can believe dat, and dey got dere hands on de power. Las Vegas, dat's de true world, right dere." Remy slouched down, sipped his drink. "You show dem what dey want to see, give dem de show, and you own dem."

"There's a lot of bastards worse than you," Amanda told him quietly, fingers moving to the bruise on her face, the one she hadn't had time to Heal all the way. "Least, the you now. But I get you 'bout the show. You think all this is just 'cause I think it looks good? 'S all part of the look - people see the piercin's, the hair, the clothes, they think I'm nothin' but loud mouthed street trash. They think I'm stupid, harmless... gives me an edge when I need it."

"'cept you started doing it when you were just loud mouthed street trash." He said, without the nasty edge. "Now, it's just convenient." Remy loosened the collar of his suit, dragging the carefully knotted black tie to one side and refilling his glass. "I guess its too late to just disappear any more." The last comment was more to himself than anything.

She shrugged. "The pimps left me alone, that was good enough for me. Now..." Another of those wry grins. "Still lookin' for somethin' that works better. 'Sides, this one gets me into pubs easier than the respectable schoolgirl look." She finished her drink, looked around at the waitress for another. "Guess we'll have to wait t' elope until next time, then, if it's too late."

"Elope? Last time I checked, dat normally involved loping first. And Remy a little too old for you dese days." He said with something almost resembling humour. The waitress brought over the second drink, trying to get a closer look and being shooed away before she could.

"Just how old are you any way?" Amanda asked, curiously. The second drink was better than the first - word must have gotten around that Gambit was back.

"Good question. Thirty-three, thirty-four. Somewhere around dere." Remy shrugged. "Without de Agency, guess dat I'm back on mortality aging plan like de rest of you."

"Thirty-four? Clarice'll be horrified." Amanda swirled the whisky around in her glass, savouring the colour. She didn't seem overly concerned about the difference. "Must be hard, realisin' yer gunna age an' die like the rest of us," she reflected, taking another sip.

"Maybe thirty-four. Don't know when I was born, so it mostly just guess work." Remy took a long drink out of his glass. "And surviving till old age is not something dat I've every worried about. One day, someone is going to get lucky, or I'll make a mistake, and dat will be de end of Remy Le Beau."

"Ain't you a ray of sunshine?" Her look was a mixture of sympathy and irritation. If this was how she was during her black periods, it was a wonder someone hadn't thrown her in the lake more often. "So there's no hope for Remy Le Beau? Nothin' t' look forward to, 'cept this redemption of yers?"

"Not a question of hope, 'manda. It's reality. Pete will tell you de same thing. Eventually it will catch up wit' him too. Nathan was smart enough to get out. Dis line of work doesn't have many old men in it for a reason." Remy said, and Amanda realised that it wasn't for sympathy or depression talking. This was as much a fact accepted to him as gravity. "But dis is also where I can do something right for once. When it catches up with me, I'll at least have something worthwhile to die for."

"Well, if you don't mind me sayin', I hope it's later rather 'n sooner that it catches up with you." There was a shrug at his curious look. "I figure the longer yer around, the longer we're around."

"Remy not looking to die anytime soon, 'manda. If I had a death wish, I won't have come back in de first place." He shrugged. "Some people might think dat's pretty selfish of me, especially considering what I've done. But I intend to stay alive as long as humanly possible. But if you want to know if I'm looking forward to a family, wife, de white picket fence?" Remy emptied his glass and refilled it. "Dis is de right place to make a bet on it, but you looking at long odds."

Amanda snorted at that. "Yeah, right. Yer chances of that're worse 'n mine."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You got something dat I don't, 'manda: de chance to walk away. If you want a normal life, it's a plane ticket and a phone call away. Figure de Professor give you enough to get set up anywhere you like. Go be a student. Take classes and skip dem later." Remy shook his head. "Anything you owed dem, you've paid by now. But non, if you stay, den life will never be normal."

"I don't need the X geezer's money - I got paid enough t' set meself up in school from that job with Dom," she told him. "An' I've tried the normal thing. Doesn't take." Her voice held no self-pity - again, it was a statement of fact. "The thing is with magic, Remy, is it tends t' attract trouble of the same sort. Long as I am what I am, people are gunna want a piece. So, best I learn t' take care of meself, so the next time a demon comes callin', or another of Rack's old cronies shows up... well, I'll be ready for 'em."

"Well, den at least both of us get to die horribly while we still have our own teeth." Remy shrugged, and emptied the remainder of the bottle into his glass. "If we really lucky, we won't take too many friends with us."

"Live fast, die young an' leave a good lookin' corpse. Or maybe not, given the picture I managed t' mock up," Amanda said with another of those grins. Laugh or scream, that's what it came down to sometimes. "Speakin' of which, I should probably get back t' it. Deadline an' all." She had another swallow of her drink, savouring it. "Pity t' rush good Scotch, tho'."

"Plenty of time to buy it after de job." Remy downed his glass and stood. He counted out a stack of bills, far more than Amanda had expected and dropped them on the chair. "And if dat's not a reason to live, Remy don know what is."