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Remy is still dusty from his fight against nefarious beings in Central Park. And he's still crabby. He's looking to get a room for the night in Harlem so he can look at places tomorrow, but before he finds a hotel to sleep in, he stops in a diner for a cup of joe and a meal.
*
Not much time passes until a dark skinned girl with massive hair enters the same diner. She strides up toward the counter, giving a bright grin to the cook behind it, visible through a narrow window. "Leroy! Been talkin' wit Luke." She explains, only to have the cook answer with an "Oh yeah, baby girl? How'd that go?""S'good. He be here in de mornin' t'talk wit y'." The man chuckles and nods. "Good. Thanks, sweetie. Pancakes?""Y'bet! T'anks!" Excusing herself, she glances at those working on their meals, and offers them both an apologetic expression, and a soft voiced 'm'sorry' as well.
*
Remy looks up at her, not bothering to hide his black and red eyes making him immediately cast as a mutant. He gives her a nod as she looks over the crowd. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes with a cup of coffee. Maybe even in for some pie.
*
Those eyes give her pause. The stalls and stares, though not in fear or disgust, but more so in some form of awe and curiousity. A nibble to her lower lip, she strides over toward his table and rests her hand on the back of the opposite bench of the booth. "Dis seat taken?"
*
"Is now, chere," Remy says with a faint grin. "Y'aint from 'round here, oui? Sound like home, iffen not mistaken. Where ya from, child?"
*
Lynette smirks, a bit of surprise evident on her face. Claiming said seat, she slips down with a careless plop and stares across to the man with hypnotic crimson and black eyes. "Non. Y'de second person in de last two days t'pick dat out." She muses, resting back. "M'fr'm Iberville Parish. S'bout 30 minutes out side'a Baton Rouge." She stalls. "What 'bout you? Where y'from, beau?"
*
"Remy Le Beau, actually," he responds bringing the cup of coffee up to his lips. "From N'awlins proper." Te cup goes down and sets on the table. "What's a gal from Iberville doin' in Ha-hlem?"
*
"Dat's a sweet name. M'Lynette LaCroux. Pleasure. Been missin' dat accent f'years now." Leaning forward once more, she crosses her arms atop the table, hugging loosely to each elbow. "Harl'm, chere. 'n, well, safe f'm'color here. Work 'cross de street, too, at dat bar ova dere." She explains, giving a nod toward the Cigar Factory. "Why? Well…guess y'c'n' run f'eva. What 'bout you? What y'doin' all de way up here?"
*
"Lookin' t'spend de night at a hotel. Me and a frien' lookin' to get an apartment and we be lookin' at stayin in Harlem. Cheap. And, since we mutants, we don't give two shits about livin' next to blacks." Ava is probably the whitest girl on the planet, but she's an immigrant from Russia.
*
Lynette parts her lips to say something, but whatever it was, she stops herself before it's given voice. "Dey s'm nice places 'round here. Good people, too. Don' cause trouble, n'dey won' be none." Her hands move, rubbing up and down her arms in a smooth motion. "I und'stand, dough." She pauses, blinking, and in those few seconds, her dark eyes turn to a solid teal-jade, with slits for pupils. A blink later, they're back to something more 'normal'. "More den y'know, chere. If I c'n help y', lemme know?"
*
"Sure you could help plenty, lil lady. If y'know dis part o town maybe you could point me towards somewhere t'lay m'head tonight. And, if y'got any time tomorrow, maybe you could point out some good spots."
*
Lynette nods, her curls giving a natural sway and bounce. "Sure. I c'n do dat." Without pause, she mentions two motels that aren't holes in the wall. She gives him names, locations, and how much they'll be a night. "If y'havin' a rough time, jus' tell'm up front. Dey give y'a night f'free." She even offers, grinning at the very idea of people just being nice to one another. "When y'wanna meet up t'morrow?"
*
"Nah, money ain't no problem," Remy replies. He's got plenty of money and when he runs out, it's pretty easy to get more. He'll just steal it like he did the stuff in his pockets. "Any time, love. What time be good f'r you?"
*
"Aft' lunch? We meet up here n'grab a bite b'fore headin' out?" She suggestions, her eyes lingering on the man's face seeming unable to tear them away. "So, ah, dis friend? Dey y'friend or…s'mt'ing else?"
*
"Ava?" Remy throws his head back and shakes it. "Ava jus' a friend. She a good kid who needs a lil help and someone to watch out for her. Ole Remy needs a place t'stay so we work well fo each otha."
*
"Look at y', beau. C'n' blame me f'askin'. Don' wanna go all eye-battin' if y'got a girl." Lyn explains, even as an impish smile presses dimples into her freshly blushing cheeks. "Dos eyes," she then murmurs. "Dey s'mt'ing special, chere."
*
"Baby doll, y'dun wanna get involved wit ole Remy. Here one day, gone de next. You look like a good girl, and probably wanna keep it dat way." Remy chuckles and shakes his head as if to warn her.
*
"Dat's life, ain't it?" She offers, keeping her relaxed position and simply smiling. "I know 'bout runnin'. Don' t'ink m'all dat 'good' 'nyway." Her smile softens, though, and she sits back. "I, ah, jus' say 'no' if y'want, dough. Save me de trouble, hmm?" Winking, she moves from he seat and gives the table a soft 'knock' of her knuckles. "I see y't'morrow, Remy. Y'take care, now." Waving, she turns and heads for the door. "Take care, Leroy! I get dem cakes later, non?"
*
"Ain't sayin' nuthin' other dan I'm warnin' ya. You wanna play wit fire, can't complain about gettin' burned," Remy replies. "See y'tomorra."