Pick pocketing was an art, a rare addiction that was easy to learn but nearly impossible to perfect.
Remy LeBeau had perfected it. In fact, he was the man that made it an art. However, the day he first accidentally 'bumped' into his fellow man, relieving him of his more valuable items, he did not expect it to come back and bite him in the ass.
First, was when he had reached his little hands into the pocket of one Jean Luc LeBeau.
True, he had gotten a family out of it, one that accepted him for what he was. But, he had also gotten a whole lot of things he had not been expecting. Thieves, assassins, murder, crazy scientist who wanted to cut him open to see what made him tick, stuff like that.
And now again, as he watched a feminine figure retreating as she took off into the crowds.
"Bitch." He breathed, partly with irritation, but mostly with amusement as he patted down his now empty pockets. That was funny. Someone had picked the pocket of the Prince of Thieves. That was really funny.
Of course, it was going to be a little less funny when he hunted down the girl who had swiped it and snatched it back. That was hiswallet, dammit, and like hell he was going to let hiswallet cavort with people who were not him.
He started to walk through the crowds, hunting for details of the girl that would help him single her out. He couldn't remember much about her, only the white streak in her otherwise dark brown hair.
Now, now Remy,that little voice inside his head that other people referred to as their 'conscience.' Remy didn't really care for his 'conscience' and ignored it a good portion of the time. Sometimes it was able to worm its way into the forefront of his thoughts. He did his best to ignore it then too. What would be the point of pursuing this girl? You saw her, she was skin and bones. She needs it more than you do. Besides, this is a bad idea.
That same voice had interrupted him once before in a slightly similar situation. And that was the time his tiny fingers were closing in on the much larger and well funded pocket of Jean Luc LeBeau and it was screaming at him 'BAD IDEA!'
Hush,he commanded this 'conscience'as he wound his way in between people walking down the dirty city streets.
What's the worst that could happen?
Rogue felt terrible about stealing that man's money, she really did, but as she made her way through the crowds feeling terrible was the last thing on her mid. She was starving. She was sick. She was tired. She was cold. She needed to go 'home'. It had taken about three months for it to fully sink in but she needed to go back to The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It sounded like a prison. She needed to go home, she needed people who understood her, and she needed Logan.
Logan. The only man - no, the only person-who would go near her without flinching, without hesitating. She needed that. She needed someone not to be afraid of her.
A thing she was most definitely had not been getting during her year of living in Baltimore.
She quickly leafed through the wallet she had lifted off of that man and was immediately impressed by the amount of money that had been stuffed inside. Dreams do come true. She had enough to get a ride and some food. Fan-tas-tic.
She gotten her newly acquired skills at thievery had come from a man who had obviously thought that she was just to cute to keep his hands off of.
She was forced to wonder again why she had come out there. It was a bad idea. She liked being in cities, there was always people around her, people who didn't know her, people who didn't judge her. She got to see what it was like to be normal. 'See' being the operative word.
She sighed sadly, pocketing the wallet she had lifted. Odd. There wasn't anything in the wallet except for the cash, no ID, no cards. Nothing.
Weird, but not the weirdest thing that could happen, Rogue just tried to keep her thoughts on things she was going to be able to have soon as she made a slight detour in her trip to the metro to get some food.
A weird feeling slivered up her spine and she turned suddenly, looking back over the path she had just carved through the crowd. Was someone following her? She studied the faces in the crowd for a few moments until, satisfied that she was just losing her mind; she turned back on the track of food.
She slipped into a small corner shop and picked up a small cup of soup that nearly burned her fingers through the thin cardboard container and her gloves.
"Ow!" She hissed, shaking her hand in pain.
The man behind the counter gave her an odd look. She bowed her chin down to her chest and silently slipped over some bills to pay for the soup and then took the cup gingerly by the edges as she slunk out of the shop without even picking up her change.
She sat outside on a bench, close to the jellyfish filled water (Really, jellyfish.)and huddled closely to the warmth of the soup as she looked around. Couples holding hands, kissing, hugging, mothers and babies, sisters teasing each other, families touring the city. It hurt a little bit to know she would never have any of those things.
She shook herself and pointedly turned her attention back to the hot soup.
The weird feeling pricked at the back of her neck a second time. She turned around quickly again, looking around wildly behind her. Why did it feel like someone was following her?
A few a few moments of intense scrutiny of the world around her, Rogue shrugged warily and turned back to face forward slowly.
She screamed, falling off the bench and spilling scalding soup all over herself. "Owowfucityow!" She wailed, shedding her jacket and peeling off the shirt that was covered in the scorching liquid, remaining only in her tank top and elbow length gloves. "What did ya do that for?" She said, finally looking up at the man.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
I am so dead.
It was the man with the wallet she had stolen.
Remy didn't know what to make of the girl, especially now that a good percentage of her clothing was missing. Everything from the fire in her eyes to the drawl in her accent told him to stay away.
Remy, Remy, Remy.That damn irritating voice sounded in his head again. Leave the girl alone. You're playing with fire.
"Sorry, chere, didn' mean to hurt ya'." He fully ignored the voice. The girl didn't move from her spot, eyes wide with terror.
Did my glasses slip?He wondered idly, checking to make sure his sunglasses were still in place.
"I-I'm s-sorry." The girl stuttered, suddenly fumbling about her clothes, rooting through pockets like her life depended on it. "I s-shouldn't have taken it." She checked all of her pockets and he saw her face grow whiter as she looked back up at him. "I mustuv d-dropped it."
"No, ya didn't," Remy held up the wallet he had smoothly taken back. He leaned back into the bench, stretching out his legs, and toying around with a deck of cards.
The girl was actually kind of pretty. To thin, certainly, but her body had the memory of curves that would probably return when she was healthy again, and he didn't need to be a doctor to see that she wasn't healthy. But, despite the paleness of her skin, the dark purple splotches under her eyes, and the weakness of her body, her clear green eyes signaled boundless vigor. At the same time she radiated strength and frailty. What an odd combination. Admittedly, it intrigued Remy more than a simple pickpocket should have.
Rogue looked up at the man. She knew she wouldn't be able to take him in a fight. Even with all of her training as an X-man, it only worked if she was well enough to move. She hadn't eaten a solid meal in a week, she hadn't slept in three days, she hadn't stopped running since she had taken off. She was tired. And now, when she was finally ready to go home, she made a mistake. What was that about dreams coming true?
Immediately after stripping off her scalding clothes she had tried to find a bare patch of skin on him- because, like hell she was going down without a fight. He was wearing a trench coat that brushed his heels when he was standing; covering up a good percentage of his body, which for all she could tell was in great shape.
Awesome… he could totally win in said fight she would not be going down without… His hands were mostly covered by fingerless gloves, which was odd because of the cold weather. His face was uncovered save the pair of mirrored sunglasses that were mostly trapped underneath his mop of auburn hair and the stubble that had taken residence on his strong jaw.
"So," She said after a moments silence. "Are you gon' beat me up? Give me a speech? Kill me?"
"I'd settle fo' lookin' at you a little longer, chere." He winked at her. She couldn't see his eyes, but the message got across all the same. For the second time since he had walked into her life, sat on her park bench, and made her dump an entire cup of hot soup on herself, she was stunned speechless.
"Aren't you mad?" She asked after regaining her composure.
"Not really," He shrugged. "I just thought it was funny."
Rogue started to see hope. Funny was good, funny made sure you weren't beat up and left for dead in frikkin Baltimore.
"I have to go." She stated, not bothering to pick up her jacket or shirt before trying to bolt. It would have worked if she hadn't been taken by a coughing fit.
Remy saw her try and run for it, only to be taken by her lack of health. Before he could stop himself, his damn conscience took revenge for being ignored by forcing him to stand and go over to her.
"You okay, chere?" He asked, putting a tentative hand on her back.
"Don't touch me!" She stumbled back to the ground, scrambling to get away from him.
Remy felt his row furrow wth concern. Was she reacting like this because she had been abused? Or worse? Remy bristled at the thought of anyone touching that girl with ill intent.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," He tried to sooth her.
"It's not me I'm worried about," She muttered bitterly, almost too quietly for him to hear.
After a few moments of silence he decided to actually prove his worth at something and bent over to help her.
His sunglasses clattered to the ground.
He couldn't help being hurt by her wide eyed expression when she saw his eyes. He stealthily retrieved the glasses and replaced them on his face.
"Sorry 'bout that." He said sullenly, the thought of his demon eyes, red on black, made his own stomach churn, he couldn't imagine what they did to other people.
"I thought they were kinda' pretty." The girl said sheepishly.
The man looked at her funny. Rogue thought his eyes were gorgeous.
So, he's a mutant.She thought rather thoughtfully if she did say so herself.
"Are you alright?" Remy ignored her last words, extremely confused by them. Damn that bastard conscience, he should have walked away when he had the chance.
"Yeah," Rogue set her jaw, trying to look tough, an image marred by her shivering. "I'm just trying to get home."
"Well, where is home, chere?" Remy grinned, regaining some of him charm. "I'll walk y' there."
"Westchester, New York." She said bluntly. "A little far to walk."
Remy contemplated this for a moment. He was at loath to leave this girl to her own self destructiveness, it would be a shame to see a pair of green eyes like that go to waste. His business (if that was what you could call it)was already done in Baltimore, what would it hurt to take a quick detour to New York before retuning to New Orleans?
"Nonsense," Remy winked at her again. "I, for one, could use the exercise."
"But- what?- I - what?" Rogue spluttered. "You don't even know me!" That hadn't been the answer she had been expecting. "I don't even know you!"
"Remy LeBeau," He bowed, tipping his imaginary hat. "At y'r service."
"But… I tried to steal something from you! Shouldn't you be… I dunno… suspicious of me? I'm a thief!" She exclaimed.
"A really bad one, at that." Remy laughed at her response.
"But…" her eyes grew wider as she tried to look for another excuse, but lapsed into another coughing fit before she could come up with anything.
"Chere,"His tone was admonishing as he put hit coat over her shoulders. "It's rude not to introduce yourself."
"Rogue." She grumbled.
"Rogue?" He wrinkled his nose. "What kind of a name is Rogue?" It suited her, but still.
"It's my mutant name." She mumbled.
Remy was stunned for a moment. Not many people caught him off guard, but this Rogue girl with the white stripe in her hair and the fire in her eyes was making a habit of it.
Don't you dare use that girl, Remy LeBeau.His conscience sniffed.
Goddammit! Shut up!
(Hook) So, whaddya think? (I HAVE A PLAN FOR THIS ONE!) ((it's a new thing for me))