4279/Goo'd you, good on you

Goo'd you, good on you
Date of Scene:	02 December 2020
Location:	Boathouse, X-Mansion
Synopsis:	April comes by to see Remy after a fight with Toad. Remy is a POS.
Cast of Characters:	Remy LeBeau, Rogue

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Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy is relaxing in his apartment, absently fiddling with a quarter rolling across his knuckles while watching whatever is on basic cable television at this late hour. There's a constant click/popping of his tongue against the back of his teeth, sucking air between them, and a drooping to his eyelids where bordom is starting to set in.

There is but one cure for such boredom.

Reaching for the cellphone that may or may not be his, he flips it around and one-handed texts Rogue without looking at the screen.

What r u wearin'

It's a joke, obviously, mostly just to get her attention.

The phone is tossed back on the arm of the laziboy chair. One foot up with his knee leaning out to the side. There's a half eaten ham sandwich.

Because it's important to mention food.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue had been busy today, to say the least. She'd fought Toad out on a highway, there'd been a massive explosion, it's probably on the television if Remy ever watched the News stations. When she gets the text, she's in the process of... well, sitting on the ground and pealing flecks of Toad-spit off of her face.

So because she's mildly annoyed, a text is sent back with a picture of her face, half hidden behind hardened 'green stuff'. It looks like a mud mask that she left on all night, but in fact it is not. Her wildly disheveled hair looks like she's been in a wind tunnel, and he'll possibly see edges of her green and gold body suit, burned and exposing some of her dangerous skin underneath it.

,(Ya like?) She texts back with the image.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Except Remy never watches the news stations. That would be too much like being a responsible adult and is against his religion. Instead he's watching the MTV Cribs... or whatever half assed reproduction of that show they have on these days. Who watches cable television? Losers.

The chirp of the phone diverts his attention, red pupils shifting towards it as he lazily reaches way out, as if doing so offends him because he has to move, and looks at the image sent. A snort laugh, a little grin, and a reply is sent.

can not believe u let him goo u on the first date, chere.

Rather than toss it away, he sets it on the inside of his leg. In easy reach. Because extending his arm is hard work.

Rogue has posed:
(Cute. I'm coming over to use YOUR shower) Rogue's reply comes back about three and a half minutes later.

As for her arriving, that takes a little longer. She couldn't fly off until she told the cops where the rest of Mortimer's truck/tank had been left behind, and told them a bit about who he was so they could maybe have something to go off of... but he's a slippery Mutant, and she'd feel bad for any cop who ran across him...

When Rogue does arrive, most of the mask is off of her face now aside from flecks still doggint the left side of her cheek and up in to her hair.

She's got her jacket on zipped up, which leaves visible holes in the thighs of her suit, especially up her left leg to her hip.

She knocks on the door, because she isn't sure if he's even there or not, and doesn't have any keys on her.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Thanks for the warnin. I'll make the girls leave.

The reply is immediate, phone again tossed aside. This time he's certain for good since she's on her way over. Remy bounces up out of the chair and stretches, rubbing his stomach with both hands. A glance around to inspect whether he needs to clean up, which he absolutely does, and decides that... no he absolutely doesn't.

It's a mess.

It's lived in.

It's his.

He does go to change though.

Switching out of sweat pants into newer sweat pants and putting on a t-shirt. It's just the right thing to do when expecting company. He's standing in the toilet pissing when she knocks, "Is unlock't, chere..." krrrrrrrrrrrrr (pee sound, live with it.)

Rogue has posed:
Rogue twists the handle and strides in. Once she's inside she's taking her jacket off and setting it aside. That leather jacket has been reinforced with special stuff that Hank finally made just for her, but the suits weren't really able to be made out of the same stuff and still maintain the color scheme she wanted, they're made for fires though... for sure... because if they weren't there'd be way more damage to the greena nd gold than there currently is.

Now, Rogue walks to his sofa and sits down. Her boots are in pretty good shape, just need cleaning! She pulls them off and sets them aside. "Did I interrupt your orgy?" She asks where she hears him doing what he's doing. "Sorry about that." She says with a little huff of a breath, always sassy and saucy even if she 'knows' he's joking.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Nah." Remy flushes the toilet after shaking it off. Reaching up to push the handle with his foot, then clipping the seat with his toes as he turns to stride out of the open door like a heathen who doesn't wash his hands first. It's not that he's nasty, or even really that lazy, he's just... ya know... whatever it happened do we need to go over it?

Grinning, in the way only he really does, he drops down on the couch close to Rogue, but not so close that he'd inadvertantly clip skin to skin. He'll live dangerously, but he knows /exactly/ how close he can get without going full catatonic.

He even throws an arm around her shoulders, albeit across the back of the cushions.

He aint scared.

It would be a /lie/ of the /highest/ order if he pretended not to be looking at her exposed thigh though. Rubbing his stubbled jaw with the other hand, "Ya aint had'ta play aroun' if ya wan't take ya clothes off, chere.." As good an invitation to explain what happened as any. He's using his serious voice.

"Ya alrigh'?"

Rogue has posed:
The shoulders of her suit are in good condition becasue her jacket was on, so that part of her suit is all fine and dandy. She looks over at him after he puts an arm around her though and smirks at his words. "It's inevitable at this point. But not quite yet." She tells him as she sits back on the sofa and takes a moment relax. Her left hand comes up to dart over her face and stroke at the flecks of green 'stuff' still stuck to her skin.

"Mortimer was a friend, sorta." She says. "I thought he'd come with me, once I realized it was him. I was gonna bring'im t'Xavier's, see if the Professah and Jean could help him out. I know he's a bit more wild than what they're used to, but they're pretty good at gettin' people t'calm down, ya know?"

She turns her head over to look at him past her white bangs. "But, yeah, I was naive, and he goobed all over my face. And shutup, pre-emptively." She says with a smirk at him.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"I'm wound't, chere..." Remy says in a quiet, dramatic voice. One hand flat against his own chest with the fingers spread, "Wou' I make a joke in ya time of disgustin' perile?" Yes. "Okay, maybe I wou, but I'd take no joy from'e." Yes. A hand comes up to flick a bit of goo from her cheek. Hazardously close to actually /touching/ her, but he's pretty good at this.

Getting dangerously close without committing a life threatening act.

Especially where it pretains to Rogue.

As to what she's saying?

He's listening, even nodding. Turning black eyes down to his own out stretched leg, with heel hooked on the table, "Tha' done calm't down tha wolv'rin, ye? Ya aint thinkin' poor, Anne, ya jus'... thinkin' wit ya ha't.. Is wha' I love bout'cha."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue leans back on the sofa and moves her hands up her thighs before she just sits there, looking a bit out of place in the torn up, burnt up, bodysuit without the boots on and her gloves even off now. She looks like she was a contestant on The Running Man or some such.

Her eyes look over at Remy and she just smiles at him, her pearly whites still perfectly shining at least, even if the rest of her is a bit dirty.

Or a lot dirty.

"I like t'hope for the best'n people. Toad was wild'n crazy in my days with the Brotherhood. But he was also sweet. He tried t'cheer me up on a number of occasions. Even got me a doll once, which was sweet. Ya know, in a weird Annabelle Haunted Doll kinda way."

She shows a grin to the Cajun before her eyes look across the room again. "Mmmf, okay, I should go showe rup." She says, after he flicks that bit of Toad-goo off her cheek, it having hardened into a weird dark green resin-like form.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Sometime it da wil'des of us all dat offah tha most insights in'ah da ha't of people.." Remy offers with a knowing grin and a shallow nod. Lord knows he's his fair share of the rough, the down, and the out proving that despite their reputations, they were better people beneath those descriptions.

Himself included, depending on who you ask.

His grin curls just so, lifting his arms up to allow Rogue exodus to the bathroom. "I laid ou' some towel foah ya, an' some change'n clothes." He /can/ be thoughtful. "Less ya wanna keep'em off..." And a piece of shit.

The good with the bad right?

"Eithah way, I'll be heah when ya done."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just smiles softly at him before she moves to sit up. "Ever the charmer." She replies, even though it's laced with sarcasm, she still enjoys his humor. He's like an eager dog for her attention, and it's... well it's flattering for the Belle that's gotten used to men who just find out about her power and immediately cut her off, some nicer than others, but still!

Up on her bare feet now, Rogue starts toward the direction of the bathroom and looks over her shoulder at him. "Ya better have not laid out some other girl's clothin' for me t'put on once I'm out." She warns him with a smile.

Quietly though, she pads in to the hallway and in to the bathroom to get the shower going and get her clothing sorted out. Within moments, the water is going, the sound of her inside the shower can be heard, the pitter pattering of the water splashing on the ground presumably at her feet. Shower noises!

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Wou' I... okay I might." Remy jokes, looking at his own hands with the most dramatic of sighs. Eyes rolling to the heavens, "Wha' ha't I may have done cap'chu if I were'n so Gods dam't charmin'..." Slapping palms down on his thighs, his foot drops to the floor from the table, and he stands up in a smooth move.

Padding barefoot to the kitchen while Rogue is busying herself in the bathroom.

The clothes are ... nicer. Certainly nicer than his jobless ass should be able to afford, but he rarely lets things like monitary inconsistancy stop him from giving Rogue finer things. Nor is it ever been about physically touching her. So he always, as always, clamours for her attention.

Though he'd probably disdain at being called an eager dog! Even if it were true.

The clothes, as stated, are sleep wear, nothing risque, mostly comfortable, but from high end shops. Places most ment would balk at shopping, but they're in greens and yellows so it's almost certain he picked them out himself.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is in the shower for about 17 whole minutes before the water shuts off and the bathroom door pops open an inch or so to let the steam air out of the room. She spends the next several minutes in there making gentle movement noises until finally she comes out with her hair wet behind her head and her face nicely cleaned again. No makeup, but she's a natural beauty, so it's all fine! She's wearing the silk pajama bottoms, and the matching top with the yellow comisole under the dark green top over it. "This is better sleepin' clothes than what I got at the mansion, Remy." She tells him with a grin, her suit rolled up in her hands she sets it on the counter where her jacket is.

"Maybe I'll make you do my shoppin' for me, here on out, huh?" She grins at him as she glances at her phone, and then looks back up at him. "I think I got that gunk off my face at least... maybe some still in my hair though."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Mmm?" Remy is in the kitchen eating ice cream with his fingers. Likely an intentional faux pas to disspell any notion that he's refined in any, but the accidental manner. Which is wholly and completely inaccurate. A fact which few, but Rogue, could attest. He is quite refined when he desires to be.

Sucking rocky road chunks from his index fingers, he raises a brow over her black/red right eye and regards her newly mint clothing with an appraising tilt of his head. "They look bettah on'da floah.." He remarks off handedly, but shrugs mock indifference.

Hiding his playful grin behind another fingerful of ice cream.

The carton is replaced, his hands cleaned, and the Cajun is padding over towards her to lean a shoulder into the corner of the wall that seperates his living/kitchen from the bathroom/bedroom.

"Well, chere.. no hanky panky til ya got'cha self good'n clean.. I don't know wha kinna sweat bakin' whoah house ya think I'm runnin' here, but..." Hands up, head shaking, "There standards.." Grinning. One hand tugs at the strap of the yellow camisole.

Then he turns and heads for the couch.

"So, ya got a lead on where ya goo spittin' amie is goin to groun'? Maybe we can find' dem.. bring dem back, non?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is leaning on the counter when he approaches her and toys witht he strap on her top. She just holes a faint smile at him. "The way you were givin' that ice cream a bit'a oral attention, I'd say I know precisely what kinda house this is." She taunts back at the man before she watches him sweep around behind her and move toward the living area.

She turns around now and leans back against the counter, her hands on either sides of her as she watches him, always watching him, she is... like she doesn't trust him or something. Or maybe she just likes how he looks. That could be it too.

"Lead's on Toad?" She asks, considering and shaking her head. "Not really. He did say he hadn't seen any of the other members'a the Brotherhood for over a year, but he may have been lyin' about that. He was, after all, playing up the sad card t'get close enough t'spit on me. Which... sadly I fell for. Nostalgia, I think. I won't be fallin' for that again if I do run in t'him again though."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Dat was jus' a bit ah foreplay, eh? Showin' ya whacha been missin', chere." Remy says over his shoulder, bouncing his brow as he spins down into the couch with a grunt. One ankle up, the other crosses it and both arms lay out across the back of the cushions.

"I don't think ya shoul' beat yaself too hard ovah it. He's an ol' frien'. I got plenty I'd give a second ta stab me if dey show up." HAS done this, in fact. Slips. A face he hasn't seen in... well... a long time. Relatively speaking.

His head cranes back, eyes turning down so red pupils are set upon the Southern Bell, and a grin plays at the corners of his mouth. "I help ya fin' dem, maybe aint too late bring ya amie back to da man'shun.. Prof, Jean, one'ah dem can turn'em aroun'... An' worse case is I dere, ya no? Keep eyes on ya back... an' non jus ya backside.. but I look' dere too."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue walks over to the one sofa chair he has in his living room area and she sits down on the arm of it with her hands in front of her now. She looks at him and just shakes her head with a little grin. Her right hand goes down to the orange pillow with the picture of the cat face on it, she picks it up and tosses it at him where he's laying.

"Yeah, but this 'old friend' blew up a gas station t'night. Then detonated a tank that set a farmer's field on fire. He's in a lotta trouble for that. Plus, he didn't know if I was invulnerable or /not./ Which means he was entirely okay with killin' me."

She places her ungloved hands on top of her thighs and glances to the cartoons on the tv, then back to Remy. "So I got a bone t'pick with ol' Toady..."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy listens to this developing story unfold right before him and inclines his head... "Well, ya lef' dat part out of da original tellin'." He murmurs, almost, sounding a little put out. "Here I am tryin' to be all supportive an' all along ya done made ya mind on da fella? Tsk, Anne... Tsk.." Still grinning, if a little smaller because of the nature of what exactly Toad had done.

"I suppose I'll help ya pick a bone with dem too, if dats what ya game is.." Patting his own thigh with both hands, they go back to loop behind his head at the knuckles to provide a finger hammock for his shaved undercut.

"Anybody hurt? I assume not if ya aint still givin' statements to da fuss."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just can't help but show a grin at his response to her. "Sorry." She says after a lingering of silence allowed her guilt meter to fill up like a beer being poured in to a mug. "And no, nobody died. Well--" She pauses. "A few rabbits died. There was a rabbit pen outside of the gas station..." She exhales sharply and stands up from the sofa chair to move over to Remy's coffee table where she spins around and sits down on the edge of it so she's beside him, but not joining him o the sofa. Her silk clothes are pretty loose on her body and it wouldn't take much for them to come up and expose dangerous skin to the Cajun's touch.

"I'll see if i can't find a few contacts, maybe track the bugger down again. But, whatever... To much goin' on t'worry about it."

Rogue looks back to the tv, then back to Remy. "You wanna go on a ride t'night?" She asks, having seen the green porsche that Remy won in a card game this past Spring. "I don't feel like turnin' in, and I don't know if I can stay here t'night, honestly. Jeepers is back home, and there's been a new addition... a new lil' fella..." An Imp. She doesn't say it yet though.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy cannot help but note the way her clothes try not to be revealing, but are because of his very good imagination. The perked brow grows more perkier. The grin a little more grinnier, and his red eyes jerk up to look at her.

"The bunnys is dead?" There's a sourness to his tone that could be mistaken for rage. "Well dat done seals it for me..." Hands up, slapping the cushions of his couch, he crawls over on his side and rolls up closer to her. DANGEROUSLY SO.

Only he doesn't touch her.

Hovering there ney nose to nose.

"Les bon..." Grinning more, he pushes back and starts toward his room with his shirt coming off as he goes. Side arm tossing it towards, but not into, the hamper with like clothing already laying all around, but not in, it on the floor. "Let me change an' we go fo'a ri'."

He doesn't take long. Whatever is laying around the floor... and of course his coat. He's tossing the collar out as he comes back into the living room. "You don' change, though.. ya look too good fo' non dat, ye no."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is used to the Cajun getting in close to her, she just knows to hold still while he does that danger-seeking thrill-chasing of being up close and personal with her. She smiles at him, a reserved smile, but an existing one none the less. "Sounds good t'me." She tells him in reply softly before watching him stand up and move off toward his room.

When he does, go, she stands up and sweeps over to her tall thigh boots, picking them up and sighing at their condition. "Second suit in less than half a week..." She mutters, now walking to her coat and rolled up bodysuit. She fishes her phone out of the pocket. "Least this still works..." She mutters, having gotten the best case she could find. (Pewdiepie ran an ad for these cases, that's how she found it.)

"You just want me t'wear this cause its cold out and I ain't wearin a--" She lets it just trail off there, as she starts to slip on her jacket though, leaving her boots off, cause they're not really styled for silk pajamas!

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"So?" Remy asks of her observations as to WHY he wants her to wear it.

Grinning like a devil, hands in his pockets going through whatever might be in both of them. He comes out with a gangster roll of money, most of which is fives and twenties, a couple sets of car keys, and a whole ass other cellphone. "I don't 'membah dis one..." Turning it over with a wrist toss to thumb it open with an inquisitive frown.

Until he sees the background.

There's a short laugh, an enlightened laugh, and the phone disappears.

"Right. Shall we, mon chere?" Holding out a, now gloved, hand to her. "I tink I even got a convertable."

Flicking the index finger on his other hand out into a point. Brow bouncing at her, lecherous grin. It needs no explanation, right? He don't care.