15742/The Dog Walker

The Dog Walker
Date of Scene:	29 August 2023
Location:	Main Kitchen
Synopsis:	Remy and Rhona get a chance to speak to one another. Jeepers is there too! And some tasty Cajun Shrimp is enjoyed!
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Remy LeBeau

---

Rogue has posed:
Rhona Lauren is a 18 year old Senior at Xaviers School this year. From London, she's a bit of a fish out of fwater, but she's been in Westchester for over a year now, and has settled in fairly well. She has a job at the hospital in Salem Center nearby too, thus when she's not on school grounds she's generally at her work. Today happens to be an exception to that rule. It is her day off.

As it happens, she ran in to Remy earlier, and as that happens, she was asked to take Rogue's yellow-lab dog, 'Jeepers' on a walk. She'd agreed to it, as Gambit was used to. He likely knew the young woman had a 'thing' for him, and it made it easier to recruit her to take the load off his shoulders of walking the energetic doggy around.

Out at the lake, Rhona and Jeepers had just strolled the walking paths, with the summer weather still warm, but not terribly so today. In the 80s, it was a perfect day to be outside, really. Dressed in a white-tee with a picture of a Mandalorian on the chest, blue jeans with torn knees, and a pair of running shoes, the teen looks like your average person her age should. Her dark hair tied up on the back of her head, a leather choke around her throat helps add a bit of style to her appearance too.

The British girl comes walking down one of the pathways toward the mansion's back patio, and soon, she and Jeepers are pulling open one of the double French doors to step inside, Jeepers panting heavily as he instantly veers toward his water dish in the corner beside the doorway. Rhona takes a moment to crouch down to unclip the dog's leather leash from his collar, before she ruffles the top of his head while he rabidly slurps from his water dish!

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy LeBeau is a 25 year old... shiftless layabout? He'd argue that. He's not shiftless, he just works efficiently and so gives the illusion of shiftlessness. Except, of course, when he's absorbed in a task that he can't do with a certain level of casual carelessness.

It would seem cooking dinner is one of these tasks, his cell phone perched on the counter, not for a recipe of course, just to provide a soundtrack, even if it's overshadowed by the rhyhtmic sound of knife chopping, sweeping vegetables into neat piles, only to repeat with a slightly different cadence for the next vegetable.

The door opening has an instant effect, his head sweeping around, those uniquely dark eyes focusing, but in the same instant his demeanor relaxes as he whistles out, "Afternoon, miscreants! He didn't cause a ruckus did 'e?" Eyebrows lift, eyes glancing, narrowing at Jeepers like he's /sure/ the dog can understand the aspersions cast upon his character and is daring him to object.

He flashes a grin to Rhona herself, shaking his head, "I mean, y'don't look like he dragged y'through the lake so I'm bettin' he was good."

His attention drifts back to the cutting board in time to finish up the onion he's been dicing, moving to turn on a burner with a skillet perched atop, knife idly spinning in his grasp with nervous energy.

Rogue has posed:
Rhona stands up to her full height again, sorting her tee-shirt out around her waist as she turns to see Remy at the helm of the kitchen. This is where he had told her he'd been when they got back, and low and behold, it were true!

She smirks at him as she walks across the spacious kitchen, glancing out in to the hallway as a group of younger students rush by. "Yeah, he was very good." The Brit says in her London-standard posh accent.

Jeepers continues to slurp up the water.

Rhona reaches the center island counter, and comes to rest her hands upon it. "He wanted to chase the wildlife, of course, but he doesn't tug on the leash near as much as he used to. I think he's been learning quite well. Imagine that." She states, with a little smirk, and a sofft huff of a laugh.

Her eyes go to the food he's preparing, and she nods her chin up toward it once. "That smells good, looks good too. What are you making?" She asks.

Jeepers turns from the water, and starts wagging his tail as he makes the trek across the floor toward where Remy is standing, to do that classic dog move of 'wipe your chin on a Human's pantleg.'

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Oil is poured into the pan, tilted, eyed when it shimmers just right for onion, green pepper, and celery to be added in and tossed about, beofre he's back to giving the vast majority of his attention to Rhona with a grin.

"Good, good, I keep tellin' 'im we only need one troublesome hound 'round here an' he's supposed to be the /good/ boy. Maybe it's stickin'."

Eyes track back to Jeepers as he grumbles loudly, "But even if I'm a hound at least I don't make /so/ much noise drinking." And then he's glancing back to Rhona, "Well, us old dogs can learn new tricks... I mean, 'Don't tug on the leash' ain't as fancy as 'balance this treat on your nose' but we'll get it eventually!"

He glances around the kitchen like he's afraid someone's going to appear out of nowhere, "Don't tell any o' the Texans, but y'could call it barbecue shrimp. It's not really barbecued it's just shrimp in a spicy sauce an'... it's /called/ barbecue but people get all kindsa... passionate 'bout that." He shrugs helplessly, "It's not even th' traditional Louisana one but it's... closest I could get to a recipe for what needs usin' and-"

He's cut off in his culinary lesson plan when Jeepers is suddenly there to nuzzle and wipe his soaking chin on his pantleg. Which is, of course, endearing and understandable which is why Remy only sighs a /bit/ when he glances down to the kitchen towel tucked into his belt on his /other/ side. "Close, Jeepers buddy. We're gonna get this down, just y'wait and see..."

The /next/ sigh is far more good natured than resigned about his pants leg being wet, and those golden ears get a ruffling to show there's no hard feelings.

"So! Lookin' forward to the joys and trials o' the finest of classroom education this year?"

Rogue has posed:
Rhona smirks as she sees the dog wipe his chin on Remy's pants. "I should've caught that before he got by, sorry." She quietly says, as she often uses a paper towel to dab at the dog after his post-walk refreshments. Her eyes once more drop down to the food the man is cooking a few paces away, and she smiles faintly. "Is that sort of like how people call them Chicken Wings, when they are really just Chicken Nuggets? Which themselves are just..." She trails off then, as she tries to think of what part of the chicken the nuggets are. "I'm... not really sure what any of it is, to be honest." She finally resides.

Her phone is pulled out of her back pocket as she sets it down upon the polished granite countertop of the center island. She looks down at the screen, having gotten 7 messages while on the walk, 5 of which seem to be from her work wanting her to cover shifts this weekend, which has her shaking her head softly. Her attention span is better than most of the youth her age, but even she gets pulled back in to her damn phone way too much.

Her brown eyes bounce back up to look over toward his darker own. "Oh, yes, I am. I mean... This place is ..." she trails off as she glances toward the doors out in to the hallway again. "There is something about this place. It doesn't really feel like school... I dunno, I cannot quite put my finger upon it... It is good to see some of the faces returned from summer break too."

Her stare returns to his, and she smiles softly. "What about you? Have you decided to become a teacher, or are you planning on vying for the Head Chef position?" She inquires of the Cajun.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy gives a faux-suffering sigh and shakes his head, even as he's half-focused on tossing the pan, adding in spices and seasoning, "Oh, it's okay, I'll make sure he gets his... /dry/ food instead o' part of my breakfast tomorrow. The most vicious revenge." which he immediately betrays by giving Jeepers a reassuring pat on the neck.

He snickers and nods, "Yeah, or buffalo wings, I've seen buffalo and they don't have wings. And if they did, they'd be bigger than those tiny things."

Remy reaches out to his own phone to pause the ongoing music. Still, he can't help but grin a little at her drifting into checking texts... especially the work ones. There /are/ benefits to being a semi-shiftless layabout, it seems. Of course, it also means a lot of his texts are about desperate crises for the X-Men, but still. He rarely has to cover shifts.

His lips quirk in a little grin, "Dis place is... dis place, yeah. Best way t'put it." He nods solemnly and sighs out, "I mean, it's... yeah, really it /is/ special. I mean, most schools don't try so hard on the fieldtrips, it's like... y'get to see the box factory one year, then next year? Oh boy, y'get to visit the /box factory/!"

He frowns slightly at the question about his own plans and heaves out his first genuine sigh of the conversation, "That's th' million dollar question... which okay, I can't afford, so it's th'... $5.79 and a handful of tokens from the laundromat question. I think so. I mean, tryin' to do somethin' here. Maybe not in the kitchen but... I gotta figure there's /somethin'/ I can teach. Maybe electronic engineerin'. Teach th'kids how to fix those arcade machines... I just gotta figure out the lessons /one step/ ahead o' the class..."

Rogue has posed:
Jeepers ends up doing a U-turn and ending up back at Rhona's side where he greets her as if he hadn't just spent the past half an hour with her outside around the lake. She reaches her right hand down to pet the top of his head. "I'm sure he won't exclude you from dinner, Jeeps." She reassures the dog who next saunters off toward his dish again. Instead of drinking more water though, he snatches up his newspaper toy just as a pair of kids rush by in the hallway. One of them shouts his name, and the dog is soon bounding off after the kids, chasing them with a squeaky newspaper toy in his mouth. This place is a veritable dog park for the feisty yellow lab.

Rhona glances at the dog as he rushes out of the room. She smirks, before looking back to Remy.

"You mean down in the Radical Arcade room?" She asks, then pauses. "I mean... of course that's what you're referring to, why would you be referring to anything else?" She questions, herself, clearly internally berrating herself a bit for that one as she glances down again.

A couple of taps are given to her phone's screen, before she looks up to him once more. "Hey, even if you're not really knowledge in that stufff, Youtube has videos about it. I saw some where they were busting open those cabinets, and completely modifying them to be... I dunno, more modern? They added a lot of silly features like more RAM, and more games in each machine. You could become the Arcade Master of the place." She says to him then, offering a grin to go with it.

"But, honestly, cook would probably be most popular around here. Being that there's like 70 mouths to feed afterall..."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy gasps in mock shock, "Exclude from dinner? Moi?! Of course not! He just might only get /one/ piece o' my bacon tomorrow morning... plus his dog food." He glances around, "I mean, of course I don't sneak him bacon in addition t'his meals! He's /very/ attentive to his diet!"

And then Jeepers is off and away like a flash of lightning, "Plus, I mean, he's gonna work that extra bacon off... so he can beg for more."

He nods solemnly, "Sure! I mean, it's /gotta/ be for the kids, right? Who else would want a room full o' antique video games? I doubt Chuck's goin' down there to try and beat anyone's Pac-Man scores every night..." He frowns thoughtfully, "I mean, how could 'PCX' possibly be Professor Charles Xavier? Outlandish!"

Eyes narrow slightly as he half-heartedly gives a glare Rhona's way, "Of course! What else would there be? I mean, th' basement? It's just a dusty ol' basement fulla dust bunnies and cobwebs and it's real real borin', which is why it's off limits. So y'don't fall into a big ol' pile of boredom."

Solemn nod underscores how very boring the basement is before Remy's adding shrimp to the pan for a quick stirring before cooking's back to the 'wait and watch' level of effort.

"I mean, it's true, but if I wanna cook for a buncha people, I can get just another short order cook job in th' city, someone always needs a reprobate ne'er-do-well t'scramble some eggs..." He frowns thoughtfully and sighs, "'course, the kitchen here's nicer and the customers are friendlier an'... I can probably make it a requirement that I don't need the poofy hat an' people can just call me Remy instead o' chef and..." He sighs, "Y'think I'm gonna hafta slide a resume under Jean's door?"

Rogue has posed:
Rhona can't help herself from responding to one of the texts. Sending a 'Sure, sign me up.' response for the extra work at the hospital. She then pushes her phone away and falls down on to her elbows on the edge of the counter, her hands coming up to rest fingertips upon her cheekbones, and her chin down on her palms. After a moment, her eyes go back to Remy, and she shows him a forced smile. "I should have taken the car hop diner job. The roller skating would have been more fun than showing people around a germy hospital." She confides in him, a rare moment of forlorn emotions coming from the 18 year old.

One of her hands drops down to the bowl of fruit on the counter top, and she plucks up two of the fresh grapes right off their little stems. "If I saw the Professor down in the Arcade, I would assume he was going from machine to machine claiming the top spot on all the score boards." She notes, before putting the grapes in her mouth to chew upon them. Her hand goes to brush some loose strands of her messy hair out of her face, the dark brown tendrils tucked behind an ear.

"I wouldn't dream of trying to challenge a man that smart at any kind of game, even ones nearly as old as he is. Or especially, rather." She states, pushing herself up to walk around the counter toward the fridge.

She passes by Remy on her way, and eyes his food closely again. "Bacon, you say?" The Brit asks with a grin as she passes by. "I like bacon."

She ends up tugging the fridge open, and reaching inside to get a bottle of flavored water from within. The cap is summarily twisted off, and the door is bumped closed with her hip.

"I think you should slip a note under the Headmistress' door. I can't imagine anyone has done that ever to her, and it'd probably be a nice way to set yourself apart in this day of e-mails and text messages. Write it in old world cursive too..." She says with a grin at him as she leans back against the corner, and takes a sip from her fresh bottle of cold tasty drink.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy shakes his head, "I mean, y'think about it, your job's kinda more important than carhop. Like, people'd appreciate you for your customer service an' you'd be real good at it, but... hospital's kinda more... in serious need o' good cheer and someone who's got 'er head on right." He points a finger directly at her in the wake of that forced smile, "Every person who shows up an' you help them and they smile? That's one load o' stress offa their shoulders at a time they're gonna need all th' support they can get."

cooking apparently coming to a close, Remy rummages for a large enough plate to serve sauce and peel and eat shrimp onto, before he's cutting off the stove, turning about, and laying the serving platter out on that central countertop with a flourish.

He plucks a shrimp up confidently, brow only furrowing /slightly/ in concern before he takes a bite, chews and swallows with a satisfied little nod.

He rolls his eyes and grins, "Hey, it's not breakfast wi'out a li'l bacon... and even if it was, gotta use /some/ or there's no extra for Jeeps. Gotta do my guy a favor, y'know?"

He frowns thoughtfully and sighs out, "Y'think I could just keep showing up here every morning and cooking? I mean... /cursive/" He grimaces in exaggerated agony, "Maybe I'll just type it up and then /sign/ my name. Attach it t' a gift basket... 'course getting that giftbasket under the door's gonna be the /real/ challenge..." He clicks his tongue rhythmically in mock thoughtfulness about how to get that particular trick done.

Rogue has posed:
Rhona leans there against the counter beside the fridge, watching him as he finishes his cooking, and sets that platter down with a fancy flourish. She has a half smirk visible on her pink hued lips at the show of it. The growl in her stomach, due to the rather enticing aroma draws her to push off of the counter and step toward the island where he deposited that array of choices. She eyes him as he enjoys some of his own cooking, then with a setting down of her bottle she reaches out to grab one for herself.

"Get Miss Pryde to put it through the door for you." She answers his conundrum with a viable option and solution. A little grin is shown to him then before she pops the shrimp in to her mouth.

The teenager starts to space out a little as she chews, and the taste sensations roll through her. It takes maybe half a minute before she looks back at him.

"That is very good, Remy." She says, genuinely impressed. "Maybe you /should/ cook every day for us." She adds with another growing grin creeping across her visage. "Of course, there's quite a lot of us, so that might be exhausting as all Hell."

She reaches for another one then, along with a napkin out of the wooden napkin holder.

"And you're right about my work. I just... you see a lot in hospitals, even when you're as low on the Totem pole as I am. It can be a bit taxing, emotionally..."

She indulges in the second shrimp then, savoring it clearly just as much as the first one, even spacing out again to emphasize it.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy's eyebrows perk as he eyes Rhona with suspicion... not at her reaching out to take a shrimp from the clearly intended sharing platter, no, it's the idea of asking Ms. Pryde to phase his resume through Headmistress Grey's door. "Mon Dieu! That's /fiendishly/ clever, what kind of scurrilous louts does this school have /working/ around you kids to give you such a clever idea?!"

His eyebrows perk downright accusingly for a few moments while he eats a couple shrimp.

"Well, don't be thinkin' lunch is gonna be this good every day. Wednesday's still gonna be spaghetti an' meatballs. Hmm... Friday could be blackened fish instead o' just frozen fish an' chips though..." He curls his lip in a thoughtful little expression, fingers tapping a little rhythm on the countertop, lost in thought... and quite possibly school lunch scheduling for a week, until his mind clears.

"Yeah, make sure y'take advantage of your vacation time and gaps in th' schedule. If they schedule y'for the first half of one week, try t'book some vacation on the first half o' the next week so y'use like two days and get a whole week off."

He gestures towards the back door with a grin, "An' then y'can go camping and unwind. I know I know, 'summer is over though!' but autumn by th'lake can be pretty nice too.

He mumbles a half-formed series of words, "Hm. Maybe we oughta do like... some kinda bi-weekly potluck 'round here, I mean, y'have /dual/ stress from workin' at the hospital and... this crazy school, everyone else has /their/ lives an' th' school... and we can't all hold on to our stress til Halloween..."

Rogue has posed:
AS the teenager enjoys a third shrimp from the platter he'd placed out, she just smiles around her chewing for a second, being most assured not to open her lips and be gross about it though. She dabs at her lips with the napkin a moment later before she reaches for her drink again. Her head is shook after she indulges in another sip of its contents. "After seeing Miss Pryde put a car inside of a large truck, when those guys attacked the school this past Spring, I mean... her powers have kind of stuck in my head ever since." The Briton says of Kitty. "They're such a ... simple, but terrifying set of abilities." She adds with a glance away, indicating it's possible she's thought about it a fair amount.

When her eyes return to Remy, she smiles softly again and nods a single time. "I only intend to be at this job through this school year. Once I graduate, I want to remain here in the States, and get a job in journalism. Though I'd idealy like to be independent, so I do not have to deal with the shackles of people above me, giving mandates on what I can and cannot cover. I'm a little lost on how I'll do this, but... I'm reading various sources online to help give some insight."

She smiles faintly at him again, and reaches for a fourth. "Okay, last one..." She says, the nearly rail-thin girl likely could use two or three as many, but she's one of those types who watches her figure by starving herself.

"If there is one thing I've learned about the culinary tastes of Americans, since moving here, is that the vast majority of them have little to no taste in what they eat, so long as it is presented to them as food, they believe it to be just so... Such as the 'McRib incident' a little while back." She states, shaking her head at the memory. "Whatever those things were, they were not food, I am quite sure of that if nothing else."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy nods solemnly, "Yeah, independent is th'way to go. Get to do your own snoopin' and deciding on what y'find out, and print your own opinion." He grimaces momentarily, "Okay, like... livestream? Tiktok clip? Unknown third media form that hasn't been invented yet? Y'get the idea."

He snickers and nods his head, "Hey, now, th' McRib is a fine example of the proud American tradition of Food Like Object, which is t'say something that won't... literally... poison y'to eat, that's soaked in a sauce y'need an excuse t'eat because squirting it directly into your mouth would be undignified."

He tilts his head and frowns, "How a McRib is more dignified than drinkin' a bottle of barbecue sauce is... somethin' t'be explained by someone wiser'n me."

He nods solemnly and sighs, "An' who is it that subjected an innocent like you t'that monstrosity anyhow? Oh... no... they didn't tell you to try a Baconator did they?"

Remy's eyes are wide in faux concern, like this may in fact be a fate worse than death... or at least a burger more than likely to statistically be a step closer /to/ death.

Rogue has posed:
Rhona caps her water again after finishing off that last shrimp. She smirks softly at him. "I'm afraid of trying to chase internet clout on Youtube or Tik Tok like so many others are trying to achieve around here. I feel like the chance of it all being pulled out from under you is too great of a risk to waste years dumping in to, on the off chance that something like that could occur." She draws in a breath then and once more strokes some of her loose brown locks behind an ear. "I say that, and will probably end up living in a ratty apartment in New York while everyone else is living the dream as Youtube influencer stars... or something." She smirks again, and shakes her head lightly.

"And everyone had them that night. The Headmistress and that guy... the one who is super odd, and is always prowling around the grounds in his red and black gimp suit... Wade? They brought them home one evening. They spent like a thousand dollars on it all, it was wild. Especially after I tried it." She laughs a little there.

In the hallway, Jeepers runs by again, this time being chased by a different kid, this time carrying a roll of toilet paper that trails behind the dog in a waving ribbon of white sheets. The kid shouts something at the dog about bringing it back!

Rhona sighs. "I... should probably go deal with that..." She states, before glancing to Remy. "If those don't get thoroughly picked over..." she indicates his platter of food, "I'd very much enjoy having some more if you put them in a dish in the fridge." She states to the Cajun with a smile appearing on her lips again. "Thanks for letting me sample them." She adds before she turns toward the doors to the hallway. "Jeepers!" Rhona calls out as two other students duck out of rooms to watch the madness as the yellow-lab takes a right toward the north end corner of the school.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy's eyebrows manage to both perk up /and/ furrow in distress at the mention of people around the manor trying to achieve online clout... but that might be because he's concerned one of them will realize prank videos are an easy avenue and then he'll have to live in constant fear. More constant fear. Constanter. Fear.

He shakes his head and sighs out, "Hey, living in a ratty New York apartment is... character building! I mean, lookit me, so much character. Buildin' it every day. Does my kitchen sink hot water work? Most of the time! Luxuuuuury."

He groans softly and nods in understanding and sympathy. The McRib incident is instantly, clearly vivid in his mind with no need for further explanation. "Yeah. That..."

He trails off to look over to the antics of Jeepers running by and he nods solemnly. "Yes. Y'should definitely handle that... And I will hide 'em in the fridge for you, third shelf, on the left, behind... well, just keep diggin' until y'find 'em, eh?"

He offers a roguish wink and then shakes his head helplessly, while helping /himself/ to a couple more shrimp and then looking back at the minor amount of mess left from cooking. "...Gotta budget for a /kitchen assistant/ if I get de job..." He heaves out a sigh, but moves to tidy up, because that's what heroes do.