7351/A drink in the VIP

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A drink in the VIP
Date of Scene: 13 August 2021
Location: Sion - Lounge
Synopsis: Betsy and Remy share a drink and a dance.
Cast of Characters: Betsy Braddock, Remy LeBeau




Betsy Braddock has posed:
Remy had been long since given the go ahead for the 'VIP lounge' - which was more of a mutant meeting place than some sort of velvet rope situation. Betsy herself is in the lounge, not working, but just... relaxing. It's a weeknight, and while the club is still well populated, the VIP is less so. Long legs in a short skirt stretched out in front of her, taking up one whole bench at a booth, leaning against the wall and enjoying some fruity tasting, but very alcohol heavy cocktail.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    The cajun finds his way into her club, but not much in the mood for dancing, the X-man instead has decided to make things a bit more... interesting this night.

    Remy wears a simple enough black T-shirt over a pair of dark blue jeans with some wear and tear on the hems at the shoes and a bit lighter near the knees where they're growing thinner.

    Showing up unannounced is kind of his thing, so when he walks past the VIP waitress, and pats her shoulder, he requests a copy of what Betsy is drinking before he turns and mirrors her posture and position without so much allure in his figure, "What's gotchu down Bets?" The thief asks, his fingers strumming at his chin and then tugging at his lips into a frown as he looks in her direction.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy Braddock will lazily stir her drink with her fruit studded plastic swizzle. There's a laugh, violet eyes looking over the Cajun's face. "Down? Nothing, dearest Cajun. I'm simply relaxing. It's been go, go, go, for weeks now. More estate things over across the pond, then a couple of shoots, came back here and had to meet with the club's accountants.. Time to sit back, have a couple good drinks, maybe a spin on the dance floor later, and shake the stress away."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy had his black eyes upon her as she is talking, and obviously, predictably he'd latch onto the one word he shouldn't have and he tugs on that thread.

    "You spin..." He lifts his bushy brown eyebrow up his forehead with a puzzled look on his face. "Spin...?" He asks once more and squints. "Ah picture ya doin' MUCH more dan spinnin'."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
There's the arch of a perfected brow, as she lifts her glass for a long sip. "A spin around the dance floor is a common saying, Remy. And I do much more than spin. I am quite capable of dancing. Be it club, ballroom, or even exotic. "

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Ah'm not gonna ask any furt'er... Rogue teased dat she touched anot'er telepat'... Ah don' wanna risk dat." He smirks, looking down his body, past his shoes and out towards the wait staff and he frowns. "About dat drink ah ordered... whatcha drinkin'?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy Braddock chuckles, that rich sound of amusement. "And here I thought you were a risk taker. Tsk." She glances at her pint glass, still three quarters full of BLUE liquid. "It's called a blue Hawaiian. I don't remember everything in it, but it tastes fabulous and packs a punch that will sneak up on you."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Risk and certain death are not de same Bets. If Ah do anythin' untoward towards 'er... either she or her mom will find out. Bot' a dose would be bad." Remy notes, rolling his head to look across the table towards Betsy and shrugs into the wall. "Soun's awful, an' perfec. Ah hope your staff is quick about it."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I doubt quite highly that Rogue would be terribly offended if we danced, LeBeau. " Betsy does sound amused, and she'll just lower her gaze and smile, before there's a glass, quite full of blue mixture, floating to settle in front of him. "I don't like beer, and sometimes, I like the fruity stuff."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Oh, we're going t'dance, but don' expect me t' be a quality dancer like people more your station would move." The cajun smirks and then his eyes widden with glee. "Is dat... for me?" He asks with a deep almost reverent look upon his face as he reaches out for it to pluck out of her invisible hand. "Ah like wet and burny."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy Braddock laughs. "People of my station? Most of them are stiffer than boards. they're no fun to dance with. "Well, you did order one of what I was having. Did you not?" There's a smirk. "Burny is not always fun.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Burny /is/ always fun. For someone, if being consumed by a group." Remy says with a wink as he yawns and looks back towards the dance floor. "Le's try dis t'in'." The cajun shrugs and with a sip before letting it linger on his tongue. In response he takes a full deep drink of it. "Not bad. Sweetah dan Ah expected. Dough from you, yeah. You tend t'be a bit more sweeter dan Ah always expect y'to be."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I mean, a good Scotch still has some burn, but..." Betsy will lift her shoulders in an elgant little shrug. She will pause, a blink of violet eyes. "Sweeter than you expect me to be?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Ah said what Ah said." Remy says winking once again, "Ya british types tend t'be stereotyped int' bein'..." Remy pauses and puts a finger across his mouth, where a mustache would be and smiles towards Betsy, "Stiff uppa lipped." He chortles afterwards.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Oh, when times are chaos and stress, of course I fall back on my upbringing. Calm and stalwart...until it's all over." There's a smile. "But other than that, why would I not be ...sweet?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Like ya said, upbringing." Remy then lifts his glass towards her, but doesn't seem to have enough energy to clink drinks across the table. "Ah'll drink t' bein' de apple dat goes far from de tree." Remy says with a smile and finish his 'girly' drink.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Indeed. Though my tree is not as ...stunted as some in the British Aristocracy." Betsy says with a hint of a smile. She is taking her time with her drink, it seems, but it's not her first. "How are things at Xavier's? I got a couple garbled text message, but no one sent an SOS."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Ah, have no idea... A've been dealin' wit' Mystique turnin' good more dan anythin' else lately." The cajun says with a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his glass as the waitress comes back by. "Good timin' mon ami. How's about anot'er?" Remy asks, and setting his empty down on the table, looking back to Betsy, "Ah was never much of an arborist."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
One brow slants upward sharply. "Mystique turning good? That's...not something I was expecting to hear." She smiles at the server, a nod. "I'm not one either, treehouse or not."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Ah didn't expect it ever either." Remy shrugs again. Suddenly he's pushing up and moving into a proper seated position and then from there he climbs out of the booth and moves to stand next to Betsy's side, looking down at her.

    His hand reaches down towards her. "Come, le's get dat dance, we'll worry about trees later." The thief smirks and seems to favor the distraction.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I'm not sure I'll believe it, even if I see it." She will remark. There's a turn of her head when he moves, head tilting to the side. She'll laugh, hand lightly settling in his. "A dance sounds wonderful. Trees and roots will be there later."