Owner	Pose
Remy LeBeau	Sometimes when you run out of places to go, the next best thing is to just hide in plain sight. Things for Remy haven't been great since that recent botched job, and the red-eyed mutant hasn't had much rest...and it shows. Somewhat haggard in his appearance he sits alone in a darkened corner of the bar, the usual trench coat pulled around his frame and the newly acquired Mets ballcap perched precariously on the top of his disheveled brown hair, brim lowered to cover most of his face when he looks towards the ground.     Public health laws be damned, the cigarette that he would have burning slowly has been replaced by a vape pen between his fingers, it's less noxious fumes odorless and less likely to cause a uproar of some health conscious activist. Some food and a drink sit before him, barely touched, the fork moving over the plate idly as he prods the meal.     "What a foutu mess you have gotten yourself into, LeBeau..."
Roxanne Spaulding	Sure, the last time she was at any sort of night club or bar, she had to deal with a cannibal killer and had her alien pet get alien-napped. While she still wants to look for Creed and Queelocke, a girl still has to make money to pay for rent, which means, she still works odd jobs; bartending is one of those jobs. Walking in, dressed in a pair of snug fitting jeans, a dark purple t-shirt and her leather jacket, she gives a nod towards the bouncer as she takes her spot behind the bar. After chatting with one of the other workers, Remy is pointed out, and she lets out a soft sigh. "I'll handle it." Loitering is not something that's appreciated by the tightwad of the owner, and if you're not purchasing things, well.. you know what happens. Roxie wanders on over as she peers over him, trying to see if the man is even alive or conscious. "Um, you want something else instead?" she asks.
Remy LeBeau	"Que?" Remy answers distractedly in French as the fork pauses its movement in the plate of food as he turns to look at who is addressing him, following up with an English, "What? Oh..non. This is fine. Just not much of an appetite, chere. Maybe a drink? Sometin' strong. I ain't picky."      He doesn't raise he eyes much so the brim of the hat keep them from her view, but as short as she is that only makes it look like he is staring at places he probably shouldn't be. Her eyes are up there, Remy.
Roxanne Spaulding	Oh no. She doesn't seem to mind the staring. If it gets her better tips, then it's a good thing for her in the long run. With a nod of understanding, she purses her lips ."I'll get you some whiskey. You look like a whiskey sort of guy." Roxanne replies, offering a warm smile, "I'll leave the plate so you can nosh if you want." And with that, she heads over to the bar, giving him a double shot of whiskey. She's generous like that.
Remy LeBeau	"Whisky works, sure, long as it is strong. Thanks, chere," comments the Cajun with a slight shrug of his shoulder as he resumes the idle movement of the fork before actually taking a bite of whatever it is in front of him, shrugging and proceeding to take another. As someone enters, he glances at the door to take a gander at who it is, fork starting to twirl deftly in his fingers as he rolls it across the knuckles.
Roxanne Spaulding	Blissfully unaware of who might be entering, she works on pouring the double shot before heading back towards Remy at his table. Noticing the bit of tension, her brows quirk, "You sure you're alright?" she wonders as she gives him a thorough look over.
Remy LeBeau	Whoever walking in was apparently a nobody to be concerned about as Remy's focus is shifted back to Roxanne and the fork is slowly returned to its position on the plate. "Oui. I'm fine, cher. Jus' a bit tied is all. Can't say I've done much sleepin' last few days." He flashes a brief smile, "Insomnia is a bitch, non? Maybe de booze will help with that." He takes the glass and brings it to his lips for a sip. "Merci."
Roxanne Spaulding	"Over the counter melatonin doesn't help?" she asks, knowing that a little dissolving pill helps her when she's having trouble sleeping. There's a bow of her head as she slips the whiskey on over so he can take a sip. "And it's no problem. Though a guy like you? I would've figured you could've gotten knocked out another way."
Remy LeBeau	Remy lets out a little sound that might be part chuckle, part laugh. "Can't say I tried it. Maybe it would at dat, maybe not. Might give it a shot, cher. Thanks 'gain." He takes another sip of the whiskey and finally reaches up to remove the stupid hat from his head to toss it onto the table in front of him. He looks up at her with a slightly arched brow, "What is that supose' to mean? Thinkin' I should be going an pickin' a fight with someone to get my black knocked off? 'Supose that would work at that, but if I'm to sleep I'd prefer do it on a bed, not the street."
Roxanne Spaulding	"You know that's /not/ what I meant." Roxie says with a brow arched, snickering softly, "But it's one way that is really effective, I suppose." she admits ruefully, shrugging her shoulders afterwards. "But here's a hint. You're a good looking guy. Find an equally good looking gal and ya know..." And with that she chuckles and starts to head back towards the bar. She's a bartender after all.
Remy LeBeau	He chuckles, shaking his head. "Non, I get what you are saying now, cher. I 'spose that is one way to find a bed to crash on for the night, true 'nough. Got any potential prospects you got an eye on?" He smirks, lifting the glass to his lips again to take another sip form the glass, this one long enough to pull that last of the liquid from the glass. He eyes the door a bit longer before glancing down at his watch with a sigh, "Not that I really have time for interludes, sadly."