diamonds will always look like stones; ( open )

[solitaire]

Date & Time: vaguely this week
Location: around the city and hold
Characters: remy lebeau & open;
Summary: a week in the life. many options, pick one and let's roll.
Warnings: tba

( a ) When you live dangerously, there is often a price to pay. He's been spending off nights exploring every inch of the city, from the tunnels to the ruins to the inhabited places. Sometimes, those escapades end in fights, sometimes he acquires injuries incidentally. He's been shot, by a fellow Transport, more than once. Such is his life, and he's used to it.

But he's far from stupid. He knows he has to take care of himself, if only to the slimmest extent. That means that tonight, just before night gives way to morning, he's shuffling around in the Transport Clinic. He doesn't want actual care, doesn't want anyone to see him. He's just taking what he needs, and then he'll be on his way. He rummages around for bandages, blood seeping through a not-yet-healed wound on his leg. He bites down on his lower lip, drops a bottle of something and winces as it clatters to the ground and it rolls away. Damn.

( b ) Some nights are better. Those are the nights he spends at his favorite tavern in the crumbling city, sitting at a back table and playing cards. He's taught the locals some of his games, learned many of their own in return. He laughs, they all drink, and the natives are blissfully unaware that he's slowly sucking them dry. He doesn't keep the money for himself, however, and really has no use for it anyway. Those coins find themselves in the pockets of those who need it most, going back into the establishments he frequents and the hands of children on the street.

Tonight the laughter is loud and the drinks are ordered readily. Remy's always up for a game, or a talk, with a fellow Transport, and if he sees one enter the tavern he'll wave them over with a hand still holding half the deck.

( c ) He doesn't like spending time around the Hold, truth be told. It's too militaristic, for his tastes, and when he can get away from that imagery it still tastes like a prison. But he can only get away with existing in the city alone for so long, and eventually during the day he circles back to the Transports' assigned quarters. He doesn't care much for the training rooms, either, but he can appreciate their functionality. So this afternoon, he slips into one of the less occupied rooms and gets to work. He keeps his skills sharp in various ways--boxing, sparring, target practice. He's not wearing his coat, keeps reaching up to brush his auburn hair off his forehead. After awhile, a comfortable layer of sweat on his brow and melting ache between his shoulders, he pulls out his deck of cards.

He shuffles once, twice, and then a third time. Each time, one card appears on top--the Queen of Hearts, the weapon he'd chosen for himself here. He hasn't done much with her, yet, not wanting to risk the consequences of her disappearing entirely if she blew up.

Today, he's bored, and idle. He flicks the card up between his index and middle fingers, examines it slowly. It flares, briefly, with the signature pink light of his powers. Experimentally, he tosses the card towards the nearest wall. He expects it to burst, bounce back. What he doesn't expect is for a deafening boom to sound, taking out the majority of the wall.

And, amongst the rubble? The Queen of Hearts, still in-tact.

( d ) And, if none of the above suit your fancy? This fellow can be found in all manner of places at all manner of times: out on the rooftops, in the outlands, in various places in the city. He's never still, and trouble seems to follow him as a rule.

Comments

A

[medicating]

McCoy stifles a yawn and finishes the last of his coffee before throwing the paper cup in the trash. Honestly, he doesn't mind the odd late night-into-morning shifts (reminds him of his intern days), but he can still pretend and complain about it to anyone who'll listen. That's just how the man likes to operate. So after commiserating with someone at the front desk about the time of night, he heads off to check the exam rooms and make sure they're well stocked. What he doesn't expect is a patient to be in there at this hour without having signed in at the front desk first.

He raises a quizzical brow and crosses his arms, looking over the bleeding man with a stern expression.

"You think you're getting out of here without getting that leg checked out, you've got another thing coming."

[solitaire]

Perhaps he's stupid to think it could be that easy. But this has already become something of a routine, with him-- sneaking in, taking what he needs, sneaking out. He always makes sure to even the scales somehow, either by replenishing the supplies with something else, or paying off a local business to "donate" something the patients will appreciate. He's a thief, but he has some sort of code. Not that anyone could trace that to him.

Now, he turns around slowly and tries to look innocent. The effect of this is probably lessened by the sight of the things he's holding--bandages, antiseptic, and a bottle of pain-killers he was intending to put back. He never did like feeling drugged, even if it was to numb pain.

"I 'ppreciate the thought, homme, but my doctor has me on a strict plan. Wouldn't want ta upset it."

[medicating]

If McCoy had one credit for every time a patient gave him that oh-so-innocent look, he could retire on a pleasure planet, drinking mint juleps on the beach.

"Funny, because I'm senior staff here, and I figure I outrank your 'doctor,' whoever he or she is. Sit on the table."

Obviously, McCoy wasn't one to mince words, especially when someone was standing there in front of him, bleeding.

[solitaire]

He indulges, for a moment, the idea of Cecelia taking this guy on. It's a fleeting fantasy, however, as he intends to get out of here as quickly as possible, now.

"No offence, doc, but that won't be necessary."

And he's turning towards the window or whatever that he came in through.

c. rude, remy :|

[fantasticforcefields]

Sue doesn't love running on a treadmill--truth be told, Sue doesn't love running at all--but even though her powers spring from her mind, being a superhero involves athleticism, so she stays in shape. The city itself is a rainy, depressing place, one that all her instincts tell her isn't safe. At least inside the Hold, that itchy feeling that her back is going un-watched abates somewhat, and she doesn't come back from a run more tense than when she started. So treadmills it is. After a warm-up, she's fallen into the rhythm of her strides, the whir of the belt and the repetitive sound of her feet having lulled her into a dreamlike focus on nothing at all.

Then Remy blows up the wall.

A simple shield is reflex, enclosing her in a sphere it would take more than some flying rebar to penetrate. As the dust settles, some of it falling on her force field and outlining the otherwise invisible curve, she peers into the next room, some small part of her expecting to see Ben and her brother looking sheepish. What she's not expecting is Remy, whom she'd thought had better control over his powers than that, not to mention better sense.

"That was careless." Sue folds her arms over her very un-heroic t-shirt, athletic shoes planted firmly on thin air above the still-running treadmill.

[solitaire]

"Well if I'd known it was goin' ta do that--" He's all irritation, picking himself up and dusting himself off without bothering to look at who he's addressing. He usually does have better control than this; the best, in fact. He'd sold his soul to get it, too, so the idea that this weapon has unlocked the pinpoint precision he usually has on his abilities is something that's going to rankle, once it sets in. There's a reason he charges cards, after all, beyond his flair for the dramatic. They're small, have almost no weight, and can create explosions that are mostly nonlethal even if you hit one head-on. His weapons had been chosen very carefully.

It's a moment later that he looks up, glances at her face, and double-takes. Normally the F4 would be exactly the kind of heroes he'd look to avoid, but they had been kind to Laura. To him, too, and Cecelia seemed genuinely fond of them, which almost never happened. Gambit would probably never be comfortable in the Baxter Building, but Remy Lebeau hadn't minded it much.

"I, ah, didn't know you were here," he says, half-mumbled. After Cable's disastrous arrival two months ago, he'd laid low during the next month's arrivals. It seemed prudent; if any X-men showed up, he could watch and wait to see if they still thought he was a traitor before approaching them. Remy swallows, slips back into his regular attitude. "Mrs. Richards." That seems right: she's not in costume, and Susan would be too familiar.

[fantasticforcefields]

Sue can't stay angry at what was obviously an accident, and given what she knows of the man, seeing him acting chastened, however briefly, makes her suspect he's more shaken than he's letting on. She creates an invisible path for herself over the rubble and to where Remy's dusting himself off, walking on air until she's clear of the mess.

"Are you all right?" she asks, much more gently.

b

[kneecaptain]

Bucky loves playing cards, but he can never get anyone to play with him very long. He wins enough that everyone figures he must be cheating. He says he doesn't, but Steve was always the one who was good at making other people believe in him.

So he's heard that this tavern has game going, some nights, and it's not like these places aren't familiar to him. He'd sharped poker in rainy ditches and under old roofs dusted with soot. The laughter stays the same, even if the rules (and the cards) move around.

He's wearing his dumb beanie when he walks into the bar, ordering a drink before trying to work his way into the game.

[solitaire]

He often thinks that this might have been the way his life would have played out, if things were different. A big score or two every so often, then days and nights spent wasting away in places like this. Different cities, different lovers, different crowds--no permanence. That's how thieves were supposed to be, unattached and never sentimental.

But that's not how things went, and so now his life is a pile of complications. He takes note of Bucky as he enters the place, recognizing him not from home but from their previous encounter. Kate's friend, which meant he probably wasn't Remy's. Or wouldn't be, at the end of things. That's another complication, one Remy should consider dealing with at some point or another.

Instead, he flips a card over his head before catching it in his opposite hand, and when the people around him react with oohs and ahhs he nods towards Bucky.

"Jus' here ta drink, homme?"

[kneecaptain]

Obviously, Bucky can't recognize Remy from the time that he was Kate. Some things are still above his paygrade.

But he's got the glass in his hands now, and takes a sip before he answers. It's cheap stuff, but sometimes that's better. Then he looks this guy in the eye (he's got real peculiar eye, doesn't he?) and says, "I'll play. If you deal me in."

( d ) or rather a special snowflake DO I EVER USE THE RIGHT WORDS penguin.gif

[gevurah]

She's not afraid of heights. As a kid, might have been too stubborn to fear anything besides the pain and loneliness of loss, but she always liked heights and so maneuvering her way up onto a lone rooftop in the city is no trouble. She leaps from a crate and bounces off another wall to give herself a boost and then she's got hold of the half broken ladder. A simple pull and several seconds later she's making her way onto the roof --

And Remy Lebeau is already here.

She stands at the edge, feeling a mixture of surprise and annoyance all at once.

melts your snowflake because you ruined my sarah palin joke

[solitaire]

He's not looking at her. He has one foot up on the ledge of the roof, an elbow balanced on his knee and his chin rested against his hand. The rain falls on him slowly as he gazes out at the city, though his eyes seem to look even further away.

He senses her presence, and his search to the side of him though he doesn't turn his head. Oh, great.

Kate Kane, the woman he cannot figure out, the person who knows too much and all the wrong things. He sighs.

"Not really the kinda night for a stroll." It never is, around here.

cries i don't want to be associated with her!!

[gevurah]

She can turn around right now and get off the roof, but she hangs around long enough to rest a hand on her hip, eyeing him closely from underneath her hood.

Of all the people she could have run into -- and she didn't peg him for the type to enjoy a rooftop view of the dreary city. Then again, who does? She comes up here to think herself.

"I do it all the time," she says, coolly.

just post (a)

[motherofnemesis]

[ Max is at best a light sleeper. It would be accurate in some respects to call her an insomniac, though she herself would phrase it more as that she simply dislikes sleep and prefers to spend her time doing something useful.

Not that skulking around late at night is actually 'doing something useful' but it's easier to call it that than admit that she doesn't want to sleep because she rarely likes the results.

Which is how she sees Remy slinking out of a window, and she waves in a wide and obvious gesture designed to catch his attention if he's paying any attention to his surrounding, crossing out of the shadows she'd been moving through into the slightly more obvious light of the sidewalk. ]

aye aye cap'n

[solitaire]

<sub>( After his failed showdown with Dr. McCoy--god, what an irony that name was--Remy's not in the best mood. His wounded leg is in better shape than it was an hour ago, however. So you win some, you lose some.

He catches Max's gesture and isn't quite sure what to make of it. But he's willing enough to follow her lead, dropping down beside her a moment later. )</sub>

Even--ah, mornin', mam'selle.

[motherofnemesis]

[ He's moving different than he had been last time she saw him - less smooth, something just a tiny bit off. ]

Definitely morning. Most people aren't out this late.

[ Hands in her coat pockets and warm enough. ]

C

[copia]

After coming back from Australia, Kaede has been using the days following to relax and adjust back to the rain and cool weather. Ugh, gloom and doom and wet. She did not miss it at all. Shoot, she would be happy if it suddenly became sunny and dry all the time — at least the pool set up by the campfire helped cool her down. But, she would have to deal and get back to life in Exsilium.

One thing she has worked into her daily routine is training, although she tries to be creative so it does not become anything similar to school...

...oh. School. Homework. Things she did and did not miss, because while she found it boring (as most preteens would), it reminds her of home. And home reminds her of her dad, her grandmother, and her uncle.

She shakes her head to bring herself back to the present, which causes a headphone to slip out of her ear. In the process of retrieving it and moving to put it back into place, the wall several feet in front of her bursts into rubble. She jumps and squeaks, remaining right where she is for a few seconds before walking over to it to get a closer look at the card.

[solitaire]

Considering how used he’s supposed to be to explosions, this one catches Remy decidedly off-guard. He’s blown back a few feet, dazed as he stares at the space that used to be the wall. He hasn’t lost control like that in ages, and his first thought is that he’s lost the precision that he paid very dearly to acquire. It’s a haunting thought, one that would lead another man to panic. But Remy’s suave, collected. Or at least, he tries to be. So he laughs to himself as he pulls himself to his feet and dusts off.

And that’s when he notices her. Any thoughts of himself switch off immediately, and he rushes over, giving her an up-and-down look.

“You alright, petite? You didn’t get hit by the blast, did ya?”

[copia]

She is so baffled at a card causing this mess. A card. Powers and the like may not be anything new for her, but using a card? Exsilium continues to surprise her in the most ridiculous, most astounding ways.

Kaede looks up when she hears a voice, eyes landing on the tall gentleman rushing over to her. Wow, he is rather dash—

No, no. Not the time, Miss Kaburagi!

She takes out the other headphone as she nods. "I'm fine, thank you. I wasn't close to the blast, but it was unexpected. Is that your card?"

→ b

[thephix]

It should probably worry her how easy it's been to just let go of her obligations and start... not enjoying herself, that would be a stretch, but at least not hating it in Exsilium, treating it more like a vacation than a kidnapping. It's probably just a side effect of actually being able to sleep. Regardless of the reason, it means she's actually relaxing a little, searching for a bar just to have somewhere to drink and surround herself with people rather than specifically needing the comfort of alcohol. It means she wears the Sphinx's face, Max's face, instead bothering with a fake one.

The tavern she finds herself in seems to be in good spirits, and it doesn't take her more than a few seconds to locate the source of it, namely the back table where a game of cards seems to be happening. For a moment, she wavers, wondering whether it's a good idea to be somewhere so lively, but-- It can hardly hurt, so she weaves her way through the small crowd, ordering herself a scotch from the bar and once it's in her hand, she heads to the back of the tavern, to the table. She doesn't say anything at first, simply watching the card game that's in progress, taking stock of - well, everything, deciding how to proceed.

[solitaire]

Everything Gambit does is a show. It was something he learned, being a thief; if you kept people’s eyes on something obvious, they wouldn’t notice what you didn’t want them to. And so the card game is really more of a production than it needs to be. When he deals the cards, he flips them over his head and in complex arcs, though they always manage to land where they need to.

Remy isn’t wearing his coat—though it’s slung over the back of a chair not too far away—and has his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair, which has grown longer in the months he’s been here, brushes over his strange eyes as he laughs with the crowd he’s gathered. That doesn’t stop him from noticing her, however.

He dips his head, smiles. “Evenin’, chère.”

[thephix]

The eyes mark him out as another Transport, since most of the locals seem to be entirely unextraordinary, and would mark him out as someone with magic back home, but she knows that might not be how things work, wherever he comes from. Still, it could be useful.

"Hi," She smiles, though it's more the promise of a smile than a completed gesture, "Got room for one more?"

→ and d

[controlledvariable]

Batgirl has been temporarily retired - the suit carefully hidden away - but that doesn't mean Steph can't go out at night, and there's something freeing about running along the rooftops without worrying about costumes and symbols and secret identities. She can't follow quite the same routes she'd take as Batgirl, not without a grapple gun, but it's an excuse to learn new parts of the city, ones that are more easily reached by running from rooftop to rooftop.

When she hears the sounds of a scuffle, it's almost automatic, the way she turns towards it, the way she jumps down to street level once she can make out a few figures in an alley.

[solitaire]

He tries to be subtle. Really, he does. Remy has done his best to establish good relations with the people of this town, to be their friend and confidante and not an outsider. For the most part, he succeeds. But sometimes, things don’t quite go as planned.

The three men he’s fighting are the cold, twisted types that feed at the bottom of any way. They have no stance or conviction, but prey on others because it’s easy. Remy had seen them pushing around a woman in the street, and before he knew it he’d thrown the first punch. Not smart, not pragmatic. His father had always used to say he was too much the romantic. Jean-Luc had been exactly right.

He loves like a ballet dancer, grace and speed and improbable twists. He has his bo staff in one hand, swinging it out in an arc to put distance between himself and the men. One is still clutching his nose where Remy hit him, but the others are more determined. Remy bites his lower lip, considering something. Then he reaches into his jacket for his cards.

[controlledvariable]

For a few seconds, she just watches, trying to figure out exactly what's going on here, though she does at least recognize Gambit. He fights well, which doesn't surprise her all that much, but it's - nice to watch. It's reminds her of Dick, a little bit. And based on their first meeting, she's going to assume she should probably be on his side.

Anyway, she could use the stress relief that comes with a fight.

Which is why she slips out of the shadows when he reaches into his jacket - is he going for a gun? - and kicks out one of the attacker's legs with a cheery, "I've got it!"

From there it's a simple matter of taking down the remaining two. Without Batgirl to encourage her to be a little more theatrical, she fights brutally and efficiently, though she'll make room for Remy if he wants to help.