It's been quite a few days since ole Remy has visited by one of the safe houses for the Brotherhood. Balancing his love life with his political life has proven trickier than he originally thought. Was he really about to give up everything he'd done? For a girl?
He pulls open the refrigerator door and spies a can of beer which he pulls out and pops the top on. By the time he pulls it from his lips it's half gone.
It's only then that he realizes Lynette is there sleeping and he wishes he had been more quiet.
*
Paranoid, perhaps now more than she ever had been, the girl on the sofa, gripping a massive hunting knife in one hand, slowly slides her snake like eyes open, and stares across at the Cajun. Her figure tenses before she notices who exactly is infront of her, allowing the haze of sleep to settle from her gaze. Just to make sure, she gives a gentle press of her tongue against her lips. "Remy?"
Sitting up, she relases the knife and keeps a blanket around her. Wearing borrowed clothing, exposing her arms, it was also apparent that the girl's look has 'shifted' slightly. A pattern of scarlet, diamond scales was still decorating her flesh, wrapping around the back of her neck, across her shoulders, and even down her arms until they reach her wrists.
"How y'doin', beau? S'been a long time."
*
"True 'nuff, chere. Been busy sortin' out de ole personal life." Remy nods towards her, "Lookin' like some tings done changed for you, gal." Pause. "S'a pretty big knife y'got dere, chere."
*
"Mmm, really? Y'told me y'was fire, member?" The girl muses about his peronsal life, but the smile turns into a kind, if not understanding, smile. "Ah, m'worried. S'spreadin' n'takes longa, n'longa t'leave afta a big jolt of m'powers." Frowning, she glances down at her arms, and toward the knife. "Plus, s'so cold…I don' t'ink I c'n handle winta very well. Oh, n'dat's a trophy 'f sorts. M'bein' hunted. Ain't dat peachy?"
Looking up toward her fellow swamp rat, the girl studies him for a few moments, that slightly fat slits of her pupils moving from head to toe. "Hey, I was wit a woman, n' was gettin' a vision fr'm her. T'ink s'mbody's out t'kill her, but I don' know de person, jus' what dey look like. In de vision, dough, I seen y', n' a lean girl with black hair."
*
Remy finishes the beer in another couple of gulps but as Lynette gets to the part about her vision, Remy's black and red eyes peer at her mysteriously. Most of the time, LeBeau is as cool as the other side of the pillow. But when lean girls with black hair are brought into it, suffice to say that Lynette has his full attention.
"Come again?" he asks as he takes a step towards her.
*
"Dunno her, but I'm guessin' you do. When I touched dis woman, I seen a flash of dis warehouse. Dey were kids dere, partin' t'loud music, n'takin' Vigor. Dis man, figure, t'ing had dis woman in a tight grip 'round her throat. S'towerin' figure, in white 'n black, wit a jagged cape n'a face like painted death." Blinking, she focuses again. "At dat party, I seen you 'n dat girl. Y'was in y'jacket, 'n shades. She was walkin' wit y'. Dat's all I got. I was wonderin', well…if y'let me touch y' n'see if I c'n find out more. I know de location of de warehouse, at least."
*
Remy seems a bit off and a bit concerned. Snapping out of it, he nods, "Yeah. Fo'sure chou, iffen ya tink dats de best. Hopin' y'aint got cold hands." He moves to sit next to her on the sofa she's been sleeping on and eyes the knife warily.
*
"M'jus' tryin' to find more pieces t'de puzzle, y'know?" Another glance at the dagger has the girl moving to pick it up, and then, set it on the floor and hunder the sofa just so. It wasn't going to be needed, after all. "Ok, jus' relax. Breathe deep, n'jus' keep breatin'." Giving a pensive twitch of her fingers, the girl reaches out and softly places her hand atop Remy's own. Her grip settles, squeezing lightly as she stares forward into nothing.
*
Remy closes his eyes and allows Lynette's warm hands on top of his. For a moment, he is trying to figure out if this is all hocus pocus, but given that she pinpointed Jessica, it has him worried.
*
Lynette allows her eyes to fall, half-lidded, her gaze becoming distant. Once something starts flowing toward her, her grip on his hand tightens slightly. It's still a soft, touch at least, rough padding from a girl who's not really known the finer things in life, and has worked more than a day or several.
"S'notha party. N'y'wearin'…earmuffs, n't'ings t'plug y'ears. Maybe…maybe dere's s'mt'ing wrong wit de music. De sounds." Her brows furrow, dipping low as she frowns. "S'madness 'gain. De drug…makin' m'all insane. Violent. Broken." A blink later, her head cant, brushing a massive collection of her curls across and over her shoulder. "I see dat girl 'gain. Dark hair, pale skin, wearin' a leather jacket n'combat boots. She's….keepin' dese vials 'f clear liquid. N'dey all gettin' dots. Diff'rent ones, markin'm up."
*
Remy's eyes open up and he shakes his head as he tries to figure out what in the world she could be seeing. "Maybe ole Jess ain't heedin' de warnins. Maybe ole Jess is fixin' to be takin' dat drug, no? Whaddo you mean, dots?"
*
Lynette shakes her head, sending her curls swaying. "I don' know, chere. Maybe dey jus' labels 'r s'mt'ing. Dey diff'rent colors 'n de like." Her eyes flutter as she takes a deep breath and relases her grip on his hand. Shivering, shuddering, she pulls her blanket around herself and gazes down at nothing, allowing herself to settle. "Y'know dat girl, don' y'? Y'could ask her 'bout it." A pause. "Y'all be careful out dere. Dat drug's makin' people d'stroy demselves. N'wit de F.o.H. runnin' 'round, we runnin' outta safe places, Remy."
*
"Yeah," Remy says quietly. "I know 'er." He knows her quite well, actually. "I'll be askin her tonight fo' sho." He looks, unsettled, for a moment, but with a sigh it disappears. "How'd you say you got dese visions?"
*
"S'like askin' where y'got dos eyes, chere. I jus' got'm, n'always have. Usually, s'by touch. N'I c'n' c'ntrol dem most times. M'learnin', dough. Focusin'. I got one afta touchin' Fisk's wife at a party. Den, met wit her 'gain t' get more info since I seen s'mbody killin' her. Dat's when I see y' n' dat girl."
*
"Wait," Remy says as he snaps out, reaching to grab Lynette's hand. "You got dis vision by touchin' Wilson Fisk's wife?" Remy looks about as serious as a heart attack.
*
"De first one? 'bout de warehouse, n'party? Yeah. S'why I was hopin' t'find y'. S'weird dat I seen y', but least I knew it was you." Frowning, she blinks gently. "De cards don' seem t'be in her favor, chere. M'not sure she gonna 'scape her fate, neitha. I jus'…I like dat Wilson guy. S'nice n'all. I wanted t'help 'm 'n 's wife as best I could." It takes a moment, and after a deep intake of air, the girl seems to 'link' onto something else. Her lips soften, and her cheeks even flush over crimson. Before long, she yanks her hand away and swallows, hard. "Y'love dat girl…" She realizes, her head moving so that her snake like eyes can settle on Remy's own demonic pair. "She y'girl?"
*
Remy sighs and stands, looking to go and talk to Jess immediately. "Ain't so sure dat Fisk guy is all he crack' up t'be." He then looks back towards Lynette. "Yeah. she mah girl. I gotta go find her."
*
"Why? 'bout Fisk. Why y'sayin' dat?" Watching after him as he moves and stands, she nods, not making him stay. "'f course. Remy…" She calls out, her lips settling into a gentle, concerned frown. "Jus'…b'careful our dere. Dey people huntin' us now, n'murderin' us in de streets."
*
"Dey ain't got t' ole Remy LeBeau," Gambit says with a hint of a smile. "An' dey ain't gunna neither." He grasps the door and opens it, pausing briefly. "Take care of yo'self, girl." He gives her a wink and exits hastily, looking to find Jessica.