tampered | so what's the use of going outside { completed }

so what's the use of going outside { completed }

When; Sunday evening!
Rating; PG-ish, can't see it going more than PG-13.
Characters; Wanda Maximoff (

hexless) and Remy LeBeau (

bangyoudead)
Summary; Stfu, Cajun. (Moar info about this here.)
Log;

All hesitancy aside, Remy likes Wanda. She's fun, animated, she plays along with his teasing and flirting. She feels familiar, even if she doesn't remember - and by now he's sure she's from his world, and not some parallel. The only drawback is that quick conversation that lingers in the back of his mind. He doesn't want to know. Does he? No... no. He puts it aside, as he always does, and smiles at the woman next to him, whose eyes remind him so much of Rogue's.

"You makin' good tip money, belle?"

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"Thus far," she confirms, smiling right back. Remy is easy to talk to, even if she's sometimes stricken by the feeling that something is being kept from her. Her hands are tucked into her jacket pockets, since it's getting to be that time of year, and she makes a mental note to get scarves and gloves soon, too.

"You know what, though? You haven't told me all that much -- or anything -- about how you keep busy here."

Honestly, much as she's curious about the truth, she's just as curious as to what he'll come up with in response to that implied question.

"Oh, me?" he grins. "I fight great dragons in de underground, like a knight in shining armor, no?"

It's obvious he's teasing her, but lies and stories always sound so much better than the truth, which is that he gambles, steals, and does less than scrupulous information-agent work for one of the crankier politicians in the City.

"I do odd jobs. I was never meant for de career line, ah?"

Wanda's own smile broadens at the quip. She'd expected something like that as a reply, so she almost laughs, more of a silent impression thereof, and gives him a mock-reproachful look.

"Mm, you and me both, I think, in regards to careers." Sometimes she does wonder if she should take steps to remedy that, but she'd have to move somewhere more populated, and preoccupy herself with countless details involved in university and grades. In fairness, the City sort of moved her, anyway, rendering the question of continued schooling moot. "Unfortunately, I don't know if I'm cut out for fighting dragons--do you think I could give it a try?"

Edited 2008-12-01 05:05 (UTC)

"You?" he looks at her, and there's something deeper in his eyes, though he's still smiling. "I think you can do anything, Wanda."

He opens the door to the lobby of building two, catching his own eyes in the reflection of the glass. He wonders if she's pretending. He thinks about what she said about mutants.

"But waiting tables is probably safer, no?"

Wanda wishes she had something stronger to go on than strange hunches and vague guesses with their conversations, sometimes, or she'd feel more justified in bringing up whatever that vibe is. For now, though, she follows him into the building, catching up quickly in order to glance up at Remy's expression.

"Well," she says lightly, "maybe I'm getting tired of safe."

After she's said it, she realizes she doesn't know if that's a flippant remark or the truth. It warrants further investigation, perhaps--or perhaps she'll just ignore it instead.

Something about her remark strikes him. He's always got his senses attuned, but whether they ping on anything is up in the air - it's not like he forces anything. Not any more. But he gets some odd feeling from her, something hollow-but not, and so he pauses.

The look he gives her is quiet, but gentle. When he speaks, it's slow, as if he's picking his words carefully: "Not everybody gets to be safe. It ain't a bad thing to have it while you can."

"You're right," she agrees, a little less steady, still almost-flippant, almost-serious, as though she isn't sure she's allowed to be saying this or thinking it.

"I do value the stability," Wanda admits, averting her eyes for a few seconds while she thinks over her words, "But...coming here, hearing about the rest of the world, and thinking about it from a different point of view--it feels as though there's more I should be doing for other people. But you can't have it both ways, can you?"

The question is more philosophical than personal, she tells herself.

For a long moment he just watches her, expression unreadable. This is getting a bit weird, he knows. Getting a bit dangerous. On the one hand, she's not exhibited any signs of trauma, and no hint of her powers. If Clint was out there looking for her and left her, then it's not likely she's a danger.

On the other hand...

"Do you mean.. like.. hypothetically?" he asks at length, and it sounds dumb even out loud.

That gives her pause, and she comes to a halt in the lobby next to him. This is weird, and she feels completely out of her depth, which isn't something that happens often--even when she's thrown into new surroundings like the City. But if she doesn't have all the information, how can she adapt?

"Is there an alternative to the hypothetical?" Wanda returns, eyebrows raised, and she's not quite as casual anymore.

And suddenly, things are really awkward. This is new for Remy, who is usually extremely good at making sure things are never awkward. He's Gambit, after all. This shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't be so careless.

It doesn't occur to him that it's not his lack of anything that's making it happen, and maybe the addition of something else. So he gives her a slow smile and makes sure their eyes are meeting, and does what he's good at.

"Well, that'd be reality, belle," he says, "An' sometimes that's right weird, no? But just how things are. You safe here. We all safe."

For a split second, it works, and then there's the presence of something red in her eyes, too, but it's very different to his.

Wanda takes a step back, and it sort of looks like she isn't sure where she is. The process of her sorting through her options, trying to make sense of a strange and unpredictable situation, order out of chaos, is visible. She doesn't say anything to Remy while she tries to put a few fragile pieces of her current identity back together, but when she manages that and does speak, she's very, very calm.

"Don't do that."

It'd probably be easier to deal with her if she were hysterical, but instead she's got a thin layer of even steel over roiling and wavering confusion, and Wanda does not like to be confused like this.

Moreover, she doesn't like anything that makes her feel like she's forgotten something important.

Edited 2008-12-01 05:59 (UTC)

Remy LeBeau doesn't get scared. It's probably a character flaw - because anyone in their right mind would be scared right now, and he should be scared right now. But he's not. He's calm, and at her reaction, he finds that he has more of an understanding of what's going on.

(At least, he thinks he does. In truth, it's so much worse than he could ever imagine.)

The only times his charm doesn't work is when the subject knows that's what he's doing. Not even Jean Grey could feel when he was doing it. Wanda Maximoff, he knows now, remembers who she is.

Somewhere in there.

For a while they stare at each other, two unmovable objects observing the other in a cold, silent ocean. There's a moment where he entertains just apologizing and walking away, and running off to Tony Stark to tell him what happened or simply ignoring the encounter and the incident all together. He's fairly certain that if he pretended it never happened, Wanda would, too. But he does exactly what he doesn't want to do and he remembers once more what she said about mutants. And he can't.

"What happened to you, Wanda?"

That calm she's trying to project is nearly tangible. It shivers, then realigns itself, then flutters again. Her mind's a mess, they said about her that day, like her psyche is this bloody battleground of dead parents and innocence where the past murders her present and all the possibilities ahead. Every day is a war when you're an Avenger and a mutant, but Wanda fought two, and then just the one.

And still loses it again today, despite her best efforts.

"No," she says, softly, and then louder, sharper, "No, Remy, please, I can't, I--"

Her carefully crafted illusion disappears. Her tone is forceful, but quiet. "You need to stay away from me. Everyone does, everyone from back there. Or they'll just get hurt again."

It's not a threat. It's just what she's learned. Wanda waves a hand, as if trying to dismiss the evening and the crack in composure, and in that instant the world blooms painful, pristine white, like an overexposed photograph, and Wanda is gone.

"Chere don't, we can help you--"

It's immediate. We. Who is we, in the City? Him and Logan and some kids? But isn't that better than being locked on a tower in Genosha? Isn't that better than Magneto? It doesn't enter his mind that she could have done anything. Because he's a mutant, and so is she, and through it all, through every horror, through every manipulation, they are mutants. No one else understands.

But it's too late, and suddenly he's choking, vision cut and slammed into darkness like an told television turning off. He hears static, ear-splitting, and he sees things and knows things - too many things, all at once, layer on layer on layer until it's too much- Betsy, no - Colossus - Vargas - the Shi'ar - Rogue Anna Raven! - You don't even know how to FIGHT no JEAN! Rogue - Take it all, kid! - Ororo I need you - She tried, chere more I've got business at home - how could you, how could Bishop - Mystique's eyes - mutants

Wanda is gone, but Remy remains, face down on the lobby floor, motionless.

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so what's the use of going outside { completed }

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