16351/Frothy Mugs

Frothy Mugs
Date of Scene:	16 November 2023
Location:	Harry's Hideaway (Bar)
Synopsis:	Remy and Rogue talk about beanie babies and battlestar galactica
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Remy LeBeau

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Rogue has posed:
Rogue had come up to Harry's tonight to hang out with some friends from Salem Center. Back when she was still a teen, she'd made a number of friends throughout the small town, some of which she still kept in contact with, such as the group who owns and operates Music Center in town.

The group was splitting up now though, with the two couples making their way toward the exit, and offering waves back to Rogue, who was standing up with her jacket being pulled on over her shoulders. Wearing a dark grey hoodie and a pair of jeans, Rogue looks quite casually dressed tonight, but it was a school night. She'd just tossed on some clothing when she'd decided to come up here.

Pulling her jacket on, she picks up her mug of beer and walks toward the bar where she smiles at Harry who offers her a knowing smirk.

The two engage in a bit of light hearted banter, Rogue pestering the older man for some personal info about hhis life and how he's doing, none of which he's willing to share with her.

Rogue continues to work on finishing her mug, as she pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket, to sit it on the bar's edge and check the messages that had come in during her little dinner date with friends.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
This is about as close to Xavier's Mansion as Remy gets anymore, and then only reluctently. Things hadn't exactly ended on the best of terms last time he was here. Arguments, tossing about of each other, and generally the only reason he ever comes around being, for lack of a better word, sore with him.

It's somewhere familiar that's not south of the Mississippi.

About the only place in Upstate New York where he doesn't feel like a tourist.. and still relatively cosey dispite the chilliness outside. Which is why he shows up with his usual leather coat over a ratty, thread bared black sweater. The long sleeved shirt beneath visible in some of the tears. Gortech cargo pants and unlaced boots.

Bits of his shaggy brown hair dangles out from beneath a black beanie.

As he enters, he's shaking rainwater off his coat. It's not a downpour, just a slight drizzle, but it's cold and uncomfortable and god dammit he hates it. Usually he could spot Rogue from a mile away, but he's looking back out the window and walking backwards for a few steps when he speaks to Harry, "It's cold as a witches tit out dere, Harry.. Gonna need ya to pull da good stuff out from da ba-..." Red on black eyes fall upon Rogue at the bar he was approaching when he twirls on a heel a few steps shy of hoisting up onto a stool.

"Second t'ought, I can come back later." No anamosity. No anger. But no smile either. None of his usual charm, flash, or crowd winning work.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue could just kinda tell when he was nearby. She didn't hate the man, on the contrary, she loved him a lot. But that wasn't enough to keep him around, which was the root of why she hadn't reached out to him in quite some time.

She looks up at him in his thiefly-attire, and shakes her head softly. "Don't gotta leave. I'm about wrapped up here." She tells him as she takes a bigger gulp of the last half of her beer.

Harry glances between the two of them, and internally grumbles like a older man would and should under such clear circumstances.

Rogue sets her glass of beer down on the counter again, and spares another look over at him. She seems confflicted on something to say, or if she should say anything at all. "What are you doin'?" She asks him against her better judgement. "I didn't even know you were around still."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Much the same, Remy bore no ill feelings. There was a whole laundry list of reasons why he wasn't able to keep himself around, the least of all being divine providence, but the most appropriate being: He's not very good at committment. Which in no way meant he didn't love her, just that ... well ... Sometimes that's not enough.

His hands dip down in the pockets of his coat, staring at the woman, recalling the last thing they'd said to each other before he left again. The details always take on self centered overtures because that's how a person's memory works, but he knows neither of them had spoken very kind... nor acted very lovingly.

"I wasn't. Now I am. Went back home for a little while, see old friends.. back up dis way to set up business connections and figure I come see Harry." Sure, see Harry. It always starts at the bar. Always.

"You look like you doing okay, eh?" Usually it comes so easily for them, tonight it's tense, rolling his head in a way that pops his neck as he slides up on a stool, one stool down from Rogue. "Not going to da school or not'ing. Just passing t'rough to da City."

Rogue has posed:
When they'd last seen each other, Charles had asked them to go together to a warehouse in Ohio. The Blackbird had dropped them offf, and together they'd broken in to a medical lab building. Once inside they'd been confronted by members of the ultra shady Black Team merc group. The group had made an offer to them both, but seemed to focus more-so on Rogue specifically. The offer had been to take the 'mutant vaccine'. To travel with them, take the vaccine and have her criminal record cleared. Her name cleared, and prevent some shady situation that was implied that her Aunt Carrie's farm was going to be seized if she didn't go along with them.

Gambit had tried to stop her. He had suspected that they were stooges of Sinister, and though he didn't say the Sinister name... he merely had tried to stop her from going, to 'trust him' that it was 'bad mojo.' But Rogue hadn't listened. She'd tossed him around the warehouse, he'd thrown a few charged cards at her, but ultimately her power level won out over him and he'd been put in a little nap on the warehouse floor. When he'd woken up, she was gone with Black Team.

Remy had been right though. It was a ruse. It was Sinister, and Rogue had very nearly been forced in to taking the vaccine, which later was proven to be 50 percent effective, and 50 percent a death sentence...

Here and now, Rogue just nodded softly to what he says. "Right. I'm fine." She states, before another finishing sip of her beer is taken. The mug is twirled and pushed over to the other side of the bar toward Harry who has his back to them now. "I won't sully your evenin' an' reunion with good ol' Harry here." The Belle says.

She starts to slide off her stool then, reaching for her phone.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
All of that stuff.

Remy hadn't forgotten, obviously. How could he forget being ROFL-Stomped by Rogue? That tends to leave a lasting impression upon ones psychi. Which may have something to do with the turseness of his demeanor. That he, we can assume(?), doesn't know he'd been right is probably the only thing keeping him from saying I told you so, but... Given how casual he's being in general, maybe not.

He definitely reserves his charm and keeps it held close to the vest.

With his tongue sliding back and forth against the back of his bottom teeth, he cast a glance over at Rogue. Turning the shot of whatever whiskey Harry had poured him, be it the good stuff or not. "Nah, it's fine. Eventually we have to talk, ses pa? Not a big enough world for us to avoid each other forever. Beside, Harry don't mind eh? Aint dat right mon ami? You love it when people have tense reunions in your bar, non? Wit all d'ese adolescent teens sneak in here from da School... How you don't get a kick out of it."

A side of Remy few get to see, because he usually keeps is under control. His head cranes to one side, jaw tight. The shot goes down in a single swallow, held for a second in his mouth before it rolls down his throat.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue puts her phone in to her jacket side pocket, as she moves her hands up then to slide her hair out from under the collar. She glances between Remy, and Harry before settling her green gaze on the Cajun. She upnods once at him. "Probably so." She says of needing to talk. She turns toward him then, with her left hand going down to the bar surface, tapping fingers upon its edge.

"Look." She says, another glance given to Harry as the older man just smirked at Remy, and started to move down the bar to a couple trucker-types seated a good ten or fifteen feet down from the two.

Rogue looks back at him. "You were right, back in September. It was Sinister. It was all a big lie. It would've killed me, more than likely, if they'd managed to go through with the injection crap." She admits, keeping a low-tone to her naturally husky voice. She glances down at the floor before back up at him. "I'm sorry that I thought otherwise. I'm sorry that I fought with ya over it... I mean, it did lead to finding Magneto, and some kids who needed help too. But still. I'm sorry about it." She says, sounding a bit glum, but sincere in her honesty there.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy watches Harry go, he'd stayed facing the bar figuring Rogue was going to leave, but he's got an eye on her in the mirror and sees that she's changed her mind long before Harry departs down the bar or she starts talking.

His hand closes around the neck of the whiskey bottle and turns it over to pour himself another shot while she gives him the abridged version of what followed their altercation. "Dat'll always be our problem, Rogue." Pausing to suck a bit of whiskey from his pinky that splashed over when he filled it to the rim. "Dat wasn't about me leaving for a few weeks... or anyt'ing between us over da last few years. Dat was me caring about you and you not listening."

He cants his head and takes the shot, once again letting it sit in the hollow beneath his tongue before swallowing.

"Maybe I deserve dat, eh? I fuck off for a while, hard to know what a vagrant motive is..." With a shift, he turns on the stool and leans his arms back against the edge of the bar. "Plenty of dem stories around, but.. no matter what ever happen between you'n me? I never lie. I never try to stop you from doing somet'ing just to hurt you.. I never keep you from being happy." He doesn't get into it. All those other times, they were him, but they weren't him. He takes responsibility for it because he has to and nothing else.

"I'm glad everyt'ing work out. Glad you don't spend luxury time wit da Baron Samedi. Glad you found some kids and dat wake job Magneto.. I'm sure it was worth it."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue simply looks over at the back of the bar as Gambit starts to respond to her, before she puts her gaze back upon him, watching him. She vaguely nods her head a ffew times to what he says, as she taps her fingertips against the bar's surface. "Guess our wings were clipped a long time ago." She quietly says back at him.

She shows him a sofft smile then. "I had good plans for you an' I, Cajun. Silly stuff. Picket fences an' two point five kids. Already got the dog, yeah?" She says in a lightly amused tone before she shakes her head side to side, and sighs. "Some things don't play out like that though, huh?" She questions as she returns her eyes to him, and stares ffor a second or two.

"Jean asked me to marry her." Rogue admits then, voice even toned. "I said Yes. I think she was waitin' around for Scott, an' he never seemed to re-kindle what they had once upon a time. She's relied on me, and me on her. Guess we're gonna build on that..."

She moves her hands then to put them both inside the pockets of her black peacoat. "I won't pester ya t'be around no more. I know ya never really liked it at the school anyway... I liked havin' ya there though."

She draws in a quick breath, and steps around him then. "I'll leave ya to your drinks."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
That bit of news doesn't seem to surprise Remy in the slightest, Jean and Rogue. Or all the plans she had for them, "Don't t'ink dat was ever in da cards for you'n me." He doesn't have to force the smile, but it's not his usual charming grin. Looks more polite and 'what you're suppose to do' when someone gives that kind of news. That he pours himself another shot shortly after says a lot more than his expression might.

"I never hated da school, but I never felt like anyone but you wanted me dere. Which is fine, history is written by the ones who remain, eh? Certainly wont catch me gettin' in da way." The shot goes down smoothly, then his hand runs down his stubble jaw. "Happy for you two. Just don't blame me for anyt'ing. You knew who I was the whole time, whether you admit it or not.. You always could have said no and I would have always stepped outta da way." Like now.

The beanie comes off his head, fingers running back through the damp, shaggy brown hair to tossle it around his face with fingers combing back through it. Then something comes to mind and he laughs, a quiet sound. With his head shaking. "Dat's ironic. Now dat you say dat-.. about not pesterin' me t'be around? I probably wont leave."

He leans back against the bar elbows resting on the edge. "Seeya around, Rogue."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue moves past him to stand at the corner of the bar. Her own beanie cap comes out, a dark forest green color with 'ROGUE' stitched in black and bold ffont on the edge. She pulls it down over her head, and just shows a faint smirk at him. She slowly nods her head a pair of times.

"If that was the magic phrase for it, then darn me for figurin' it out after the game had already ended." She says back at him.

"They do you like you around, though. If you think otherwise, then you're just lettin' New Orleans taint your impression'a Xaviers. Self defeat, or whatever."

She smirks at him beffore she reaches her right hand out to pat the back of his right shoulder. "Try not ta break every heart ya find, Swamp Rat." She says with a little grin before she turns to make ffor the doorway, and Harry starts to make his way back toward Remy, to give him a drink on the house.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"If only as easy as dat, eh?" Remy says with a smirk, holding the shot glass up to his mouth for a second before starting to drain the shot, and stopping. "Maybe one day I come around wit'out the shadow of you'n me hangin' over my head. Dat a big shadow, lot of expectations." It warbles for a moment more, then tilts up to pour it down his throat. "Jean'll do fine wit it do. She got a big shadow too. Very shady betwixt you ladies and yer picket fence wit two point five kids an' a dog."

His posture is looser, the more whiskey he's drank. Muscles not so tense, with his head tilting side to side sending hair tumbling across his brow in the process. "I ain't terribly worried about anyone hearts, dese days. I -..." He starts to say something and shakes his head, "... Will be fine." And that definitely wasn't it. "Whatever happen, you know how to find me if you need me. Dat never change."

Then she's leaving and he turns on the stool to face Harry, with his hand combing back through his dingy hair. "T'anks, mon ami. But give it to dem on me." Pushing the bottle towards the old bartender with the tips of two fingers. The other grabs his beanie and pulls it on, "I gotta go see a man about a horse."