1963-08-16 - A gift from above
Summary: Shaw comes to make Remy a very beneficial offer
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
shaw gambit 

He could break out at any time.

And deep down he was sick with himself that he hadn't. Remy Le Beau could easily walk up to the cell wall. He could place his hands upon the bricks, focus for a few seconds, and create an explosion big enough to burst the wall.

But then what? Would he be shot? Would he be hunted? Each day he regrets more and more that he hasn't already blown up the wall. He's tried everything else. A master thief such as Re—Or, Robert Lord rather ( wink-wink) should have been able to find a way out of here, but he kept holding out hope that he'd get out on bail.

That pretty much ended once the Judge set bail for 2 million dollars.


Sebastian arrives to the jailhouse with little of his usual show; there's no limo, no goons. There is a nice enough black car, but its nothing up to his usual style or grandeur. That's because he's undercover, after a fashion. The man who drives is a lawyer, and a quite well known and highly paid one at that: Shaw keeps him on retainer, personally. Through a numbered swiss account, of course.

The man, Benjamin Lyle, introduces himself as a lawyer, with Sebastian Stevens here as his associate. He is, in fact, one Mr. Le Bleu's lawyer. They would like to speak to their client, they say, and promptly.

Mr. Lyle is not the kind of lawyer who takes no for an answer, and if need be, phone calls to highly placed individuals will be made to ensure access and a private room to… speak.


"Robert Lord," says the security guard. "Someone is here for you. A lawyer. Not your normal guy. Did you call for him?

There is the briefest of pauses, before Remy smiles. "Course I did, mon ami. You know how't is when you are falsely accused. Lookin' under every nook and crann-eh." Remy Le Beau has looked under very few nooks and fewer crannies, mostly on account of him being locked up under a false name, facing some serious charges, and unable to get to any of his money, which makes life difficult.

A few minutes later Remy strides into the room wearing a jump suit and hair that looks a bit longer than socially acceptable. He hasn't shaven since he's been here so the stubble is starting to turn into a scruffy beard.

The young man sits, has his handcuffs undone, and then the guards exit, leaving him alone with his new benefactors.

"Any you guys' smoke?" he asks.



Gambit has reconnected.


Sebastian, dressed in a nice suit, but nothing like his usual, sits with a certain casual ease about him as he waits. Even though he's simply the associate, the moment the door closes he glances at Mr. Lyle, inclines his head slightly, and the top lawyer rises and heads to the door to depart as well. He's going to go make busy work for the guards.

That leaves Shaw to regard Mr. Lord curiously. He reaches into the aforementioned suit, and pulls out a thin leather pouch, from which he pulls a cigar, "I do, but only cigars. It might be a bit much for you if you're used to cigarettes." Still, a cigar is pulled out and offered, along with a silver cigar end cutter if Remy decides he wants to try himself a cuban.

But he smiles, his expression warm and friendly, "But allow me to introduce myself, I'm Sebastian. My lawyer will be making some… noise, with the department and officials, so we have some time in which we can speak privately. Two million, hmm? Quite a princely sum."


"Much obliged," Remy says as he takes the cigar, lights it, and then leans back. He is more used to cigarettes, but puffs on a cigar once or thrice, especially on the riverboat casinos.

"Welp," he says with a weary resignation. "Been accused of some serious stuff, n'est-ce pas?" A grin comes across his face, "Police be believin' all sorts o' bad tings bout me. Kind of rough, all dese cops tinkin' I tortured dere comrade."

"But dat nuff 'bout me. Y'all obviously wanted to get a discourse. What can ole Robert Lord do for y'all?"


Sebastian slips into a smooth, perfect French, idly curious if nothing else, "Is your accent an affectation, or do you actually speak French?" But then in english once again he smiles, "The question is, did you do it? And, if so, why? Rumor has it the cop killed a mutant. Surely that's the kind of thing that deserves a reward, or perhaps a stern talking to, hardly a killing." He tugs one of the cigars out himself, snips the ends and lights it, then takes a slow, steady puff off of the illegal cigar.

"You can be honest with me, no matter your reason or answer, I will not deign to be interrogated by the police, let alone waste my time testifying. Consider that I am curious and am, perhaps, an interested party."


"Well, course now y'all have to be actin' as my 'ttorney. I got one, but I aint seen him in a few days. In any event, de only way I can trust ya is if I hire ya, and if I hire ya, I can sue you for violatin' attorney-client privilege."

Remy gives an upwards nod as he blows up some smoke. "Whaddy'all think?"


Shaw looks vaguely amused a moment, and he inclines his head with a smile and a nod of assent, "Very well. Consider me hired. I am not, in fact, the subordinate in the arrangement between Mr. Lyle and myself, and I can assure you that if I agree to being hired, you will be represented by the finest lawfirm that money can't buy." Another slim nod, "So Lyle, Markham and Wallace and Associates are now yours. The answer?"


"M'answer," Remy says as he leans forward, is a wider grin. He brushes the hair from his face, showing that his black and red eyes are very clearly mutant in origin. "M'answer is dat sumbitch got what he deserved. Did I do it? If I did t'was nuttin' less dan what he had comin'." He ashes the cigar into the tray. "Course, I didn't do it completely. I wasn' de one who took his eye." But, he did hold him still while Raven did.


Regarding the man for a long moment, his expression calm but unreadable, Sebastian puffs upon his cigar for a long, quiet moment. "Good."

He inclines his head slowly, "I will not have my people brutalized by the so-called police that are little better then gestapo goons in this city. You did what I was not in a position to do. For that, you have my gratitude."

Sebastian smiles, "And three boons in repayment, the first, truth: I am not a lawyer and this conversation is not privileged, though I suppose I did misrepresent myself and you could sue after a fashion, but my first assurance was far more binding. I will not answer to the likes of what passes for 'law enforcement' here, and no one could compel me to testify if they thought I knew anything. My apologies for lying to you, I will not do so again. But. You will have Lyle and his firm to defend you— they do work for me in any number of affairs that I wish to keep private from my more public life. And, in the meantime, I will pay your bail. Today."


Remy chuckles and shrugs his shoulders, "Hey, been lied to and done de lyin' before. But dat don't make no sense, Mr. Sebastian. Why you wanna go spend 2 million dollars plus legal costs on ole Robert Lord? I mean, I could skip town and you'd be out all dat cash."

"In short. What do you want from me?" Though he's playing it cool, Remy's main focus is on Bella Donna and Jessica. On finding them and getting them safe. If he has to cut a deal, then he seems more than willing. Never punch a gift horse in the groin, or whatever the saying is. Sometimes Remy Le Beau can't believe his luck.


"A war is coming, I fear. Perhaps the first exchanges of fire have already been spent." Sebastian murmurs, tilting the cigar to the side and regarding it for a long moment, "I, too, am a mutant. I am simply an wealthy mutant who has enough money and power that they would not dare touch me, but that doesn't mean I don't feel kinship towards my own kind. You got justice for mine, Mr. Lord, and for that I consider myself in your debt."

He smiles. "But only so. Yes, you could skip town, and for the rest of your life— because I will live longer then you, I guarantee— look over your shoulders wondering where I and all my resources and influence will catch up to you. Or perhaps I will simply shrug and find a way to write off the expense."

"But a war is coming, and you struck a blow. I ask nothing of you except, perhaps, friendship. Perhaps we have mutual aims and interests. Perhaps we can help eachother, find common cause, common interests. Or, perhaps not. The money is not a shackle bound to your ankle: as you said, the son of a bitch got what he deserved. What you deserve is not to rot in jail for it."

Sebastian's grin turns positively wicked, "If you prefer, I can simply break you out how. I could do so with no danger to myself and little expense. I simply prefer to work in the realm of politics and influence, its quieter."


"Truth be told, could do dat myself," Remy says about breaking out. "I got some tings to 'tend to on de outside that have been forcin' my hand dat way. Just figger the cops will shoot me before I get too far."

Remy shrugs, "And ahd prefer not to be runnin' my entire life. Not from de cops, and not from you. Agree dat it looks like we're on de same side. Ahd argue dat de war is already here, but I tink you see dat too. Assumin' y'aint full of shit and I get on de outside, I tink I should introduce ya to my friend."


"Truly? I am surprised you allowed yourself to be caged for so long, then, Robert. But, if you are susceptible to being shot then I well understand not risking a fight you don't know you're going to win, at least, until you find a way to turn the odds in your favor."

Sebastian then inclines his head and grins, "The war is here, but even they don't know it yet: they think they can oppress and control us still, that we will accept this abuse because they have all the power. They do not realize how woefully ignorant they are of who the true powers are."

Smiling then, Shaw nods, "I would be most happy to make the aquaintence of any friends you have in matters such as these."


"Well," Remy says as he sets the cigar down, "Suppose whenever dat cash clears they'll be gettin' me my clothes." Another upwards nod, "What de best way to contact you when I get out of here? I have some errands I gotta work on, but ole Robert would like to show his tanks in some manner, course."


"Benjamin will be handling the details of posting bond, and will be there with you: he'll see that you are driven whereever you need, and see to any immediate needs. He will have my various contact information, both general and… high priority, secret."

And with that, Sebastian rises, and offers a hand out to shake Remy's, "Do tell Benjamin everything you can about the circumstances, he'll be wanting to attack and exclude any evidence possible: we have certain resources available to us beyond mere money and ivy league law degrees that may be of use in destroying their case. Including an incredibly powerful telepath."


"Benjamin, been a good day to meetcha," Remy says and nods to the lawyer, before turning toward Shaw. "Don't know how to thank you, Sebastian."

Remy will use the time before he is released to go over the case with this Benjamin. And he starts by telling the lawyer his real name.


"I consider it an investment in a mutually beneficial, medium to long-term working relationship. No thanks are needed: I take care of my own." With that, Sebastian lifts his cigar with a grin, and gives a nod, and turns to head towards the door.

Benjamin will do his lawyering and paperwork masterfully. That's what he's paid the big bucks for.

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