xp_logs | Remy, Amanda - Sunday afternoon

Following Remy's introduction to Lockheed, Amanda checks on him after Cain Duty to make sure he isn't too badly singed. It's actually a semi-normal conversation, with minimal death threats.

Amanda shifted the bag over her shoulder a little uneasily, and contemplated Remy's door. She'd already checked on Cain and helped him eat some of Lorna's chicken vegetable soup, so really she had no reason to be here. Except that there had been a definite smell of singed hair from Remy as he was chasing Lockheed around with the poker, and she knew he wouldn't go to medlab even if he had gotten burned. And he'd looked like death warmed up. In a really familiar way. Making up her mind, she knocked on the door, softly but firmly. "Remy?"

"Oui?" Remy called from Cain's room. Since the incident, the big man had to be housed in the living room of the small boathouse, since it was the only place large enough to accommodate the giant bed and monitoring unit that MCCoy and the others had insisted on. Remy had taken over Cain's room upstairs for the duration, and he lay on his back on the top of the huge bed, a damp cloth covering his face and a half empty bottle of bourbon on the sidetable.

"D'you mind if I come in? I've got some stuff that might help if you got burned at all." There, nice and professional. They hadn't really spoken since Vegas, after all, and that hadn't been a really normal conversation. Then again, it wasn't like they'd had many of those.

There was a very long pause before Remy's voice came through the door. "It's open." Amanda walked in, to find him still lying there with the blue cloth draped over his eyes. He waved blindly toward the bottle. "Breakfast?"

"More like dinner, but no thanks - I sort of overdid the bourbon last time I went on one of me benders," she said with a wry grin, coming in and hesitating only a moment before perching on the edge of the bed, bag beside her. "I figured with all the burnin' hair smell an' smoke an' all you might've gotten a bit scorched," she went on. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Feel free. Remy just trying to cool down de burn." He sighed a long suffering and overly melodramatic sigh, and Amanda was caught between giggling and rolling her eyes. "Thanks to dat flying rat, I'm not ever going to grow my hair back out."

"An' the no eyebrow look ain't in fashion any more either..." Amanda snickered a little. Since he hadn't said _no_, she reached over and carefully lifted the cloth off his face. Underneath his face was red and sore-looking, but there were no blisters, at least. "Ouch. You look like me when I overdo the sunbathin'."

"Sun? In England? Now Remy know you're lying." He sat up with a groan. "De little bastard only singed me, but it hurts like de devil. Course, not dat anyone believes me dat Kitty's little death pet breathes fire."

"Not at home, you plonker. Here. Last summer I kept forgettin' the sun thing burns an' toasted meself good an' proper." _Something_ had burned him, although Amanda was reserving judgement on whether it had been Lockheed or not - he'd been here long enough that surely someone would have noticed firebreathing by now, surely... Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out the jar of burn ointment she'd made up, and dipped her fingers into it. "This should cool it down some," she said, pausing only a fraction before smoothing it carefully over his raw cheekbones.

Remy winced slightly as the cream touched, the deep cold of it settling into his skin. As much as he hated to admit it, the fire blast had shocked him more than it hurt him, and the chorus of snickering on-line had sent him up here in hiding. Little dragons have a way of messing up the cool. And the hair, he thought, considering the hacked pile of crisped auburn hair in the garbage bin of the bathroom. Ruefully, he scrubbed his hand through the short thatch left. "I should charge Kitty for salon fees."

"That'd require you actually usin' a salon," she told him archly, moving onto his forehead and shaking her head at the mess his hair was in. "You look like someone took a lawnmower t' yer head."

"Remy missed those classes in beauty school." He said dryly, glowering as she took in his ragged hair with a tsk. "Fortunately, least I can figure out how to draw in eyebrows."

"You could go the whole Elizabeth Taylor look with those - I think it'd really suit you." Teasing Remy was probably akin to teasing a bad-tempered lion, but she really couldn't help herself. "There, that's done. Now, I want you t' drink this," she instructed briskly, pulling out a Tupperware cup with a sealed plastic lid.

"Remy already got a drink, chere." LeBeau said, underscoring it by pouring a generous measure of the bourbon into a glass. "'sides, strange girl offering a drink in a bedroom? Might wake up to find dat I've been taken advantage of. All dose date rape drugs and things."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Look, if you want t' wipe yerself out, I ain't exactly got much in the way of moral high ground t' preach at you from, so 'm not even gunna try. But I do know how much damage that sort of thing does, an' I figured I'd at least give you a chance t' catch up. 'S one of Homily's tonics, basic supplement - vitamins, minerals, all that good shite. You don't have t' take it, but it's there if you want to later." She set the cup on the bedside table. "An' there's some of Lorna's chicken soup leftover in the fridge - I brought extra over."

"So, what did you do this time dat dey roped you in to playing nurse here?" Remy said, and picked up the cup. It looked bad, smelled awful, and tasted worse, but he drank it.

She smiled as he did, oddly gratified. "Nothin', actually. I've been workin' in the medlab pretty much since after I got back from Rom's crash course in magical ethics back in March," she said easily. "It started out me doin' the whole redemption thing, tryin' t' make up for the potion an' all the rest of the shite I did when I was withdrawin'. Now it's more I'm needed there, tho' they've cut me back on the healin' magic. Say it takes too much out of me." She grinned wryly. "Sorry t' disappoint you - I know you were expectin' some excitin' story of major cock-ups."

"See. Everyone reforms just as it's getting exciting." Remy mock sighed, and then he face twisted sourly as he drained the dregs of the cup. "I think de cure is worse den de sickness, chere." He flipped open the bar fridge in the corner, retrived a thing of ice, and dumped several cubes into his glass, at least watering it somewhat. "Want something? Thanks to Cain, you can any beer you want, as long as what you want is Coors Light."

"We can take it in turns - looks like yer doin' enough of the bender thing for both of us," she said, considering his question. "Coors? Gah, 's worse than cat's piss." She took a can any way - beer was beer, and she was still in holiday mode after Germany. "I won't ask if you want t' talk about it; you wouldn't tell me, an' I probably don't want t' know," she went on frankly. "But... if you need anythin'..." She let the offer hang, not sure if she was overstepping her bounds, not even sure why she was making the offer at all. But there was just too much resonance in seeing him like this, and she remembered how much it had meant to her to know that when she was ready, there would still be people there to help her.

"To be honest, 'manda, I got everyone and dere pares offering to help Remy and understand. De fact is dat you won't. You'll try, but you won't." Remy took a swallow of the bourbon, swirling the ice and staring contemplatively into the glass. "Guess dat a lifetime of killing takes more den a few months to get used to. Who knew?" He said wryly, a bitter smirk on his face.

"I didn't hear me sayin' I'd understand, Remy," she pointed out. "I can't ever understand, I know that. An' maybe I can't help. But it was important t' let you know that I was willin' t' try. Maybe not t' you, but t' me at least." She shrugged, taking a long swallow of beer and making a face at the taste.

"I think dey put something in de water in dis place." Remy muttered, taking another sip of the bourbon. He flopped back down on the bed, resting his head against the wall. He did feel better, the dull heat on his face gone and a little of his perpetual headache ebbing away slightly. It would be back, he was sure, but that would be later. "Think one day, we should run a savage con of dis town and retire. Let dem all invest in Xavier's new company, McXavier's burger chains."

Amanda snorted, nearly getting beer up her nose. "Yeah, right. With little X-Men toys in the Happy Meals an' all."

"If he's going to put dem in leather, might as well mechandize. I can see de Playboy cover now. The Uncanny X-Women tell all!" Remy mocked, spreading his hands like a display. "Dere's some money in dis."

"Well, if I get tired of the good little student thing, I might take you up on that," Amanda said, grinning. "You hack into the cameras in the women's team change rooms, I'll write the blurbs."

"Dere is potential. De fact dat we have natural green and purpleheads has got to be worth some money." Remy sighed and closed his eyes, slipping from the glass. "Besides, I'm sure de Professor will have one of dem funny anerysms."

"The ones where his eyeballs rotate in his head an' steam comes out his ears?" suggested the girl. "Those are fun."

"Knowing dem, dey'd just reject de idea. No vision." Remy smirked, finishing his glass. "Oh well. I guess dat always leaves de Brotherhood franchise options."

"Tho' I doubt yer'd want Toad or Sabretooth doin' a centrefold," she pointed out with a not-so-feigned shudder. "Ew."

"Two words for you. Shape. Shifter. Dat's Remy's meal ticket right dere."

"Yer right, as always," she told him with a grin as she finished the rest of the beer. " Always the smartarse - that hasn't changed at least."

"Changing dat one would like require surgery." Remy got up and put his glass on the sideboard. "Using an axe."

"Don't tempt me." Amanda tossed her empty can into the wastepaper basket in the corner and gathered up her things. "I'll let you get back to it. If you want any more of that tonic, you know where t' find me."

"More of that tonic? Chere, don't be suprised if this is one time I don't chase after you." Remy said with a wink before Amanda threw the damp towl at him. He caught it deftly, flopped back down on the bed, and put it on his forehead.

"Who ever said medicine was supposed t' taste good, Remy?" she retorted. "Later, Cajun. Don't forget that soup in the 'fridge, or I'll tell Lorna you let her food go off," she called over her shoulder as she opened the door.

Remy smiled and nodded. Amanda turned and squeled as the wet towel hit her directly on the back of the neck. "See what happens when you fight dirty, 'manda?"

"Bastard," she told him cheerfully, throwing the towel back in the direction of the bed before closing the door behind her.