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Why the hell are they in Queens?
On a lark, Remy LeBeau literally invited whoever was around him in the lounge to come with him to a great restaurant in Queens. He didn't lie. There was some good old style Cajun cookin' by a guy name Big Sal. There were some beers, some laughs, and a good time was had by everyone. Remy paid. There's also that.
Anyways, after dinner, and this is late, Remy told whoever was driving to hang a left up here. Then, after a block, he asked the people in the car to pull over on the side of the road. Then, they waited.
Josh took some talking into, but he's been going a little crazy never stepping out of anywhere that's anything but Mutant Places. Still, he gets his yellow hoodie, his thin cream gloves, and makes a point to mostly keep his head down. Being gold is a drag on his social life. But he'll go, and drink some beer, and relax— there's enough of them around that he feels relatively safe in mixed company. That doesn't mean he can keep incognito perfectly, so there's some stares, but he does his best to ignore them. He squints at Remy in the car, casting a questioning look like, "…. Remy, what's in that shifty brain of yours man?" But he grins.
Jay doesn't, erm, drive. Presuming he does have his license, there's just a lot of extra expenses with having a car, much less having a car in New York City. So he is absolutely 'not it' when it comes to that situation. Without Kevin for the evening, the ugly little lump of furry sugar is undoubtedly sleeping off his adventure last night still, giving Jay a night of fun and indulgence on Remy's dime.
/Cajun/. Yes. Promises of good food will draw Jay along every time. Pleasant, if slightly muted, company, the young man loosens up a little bit during dinner, putting him in a better mood for the drive home. The odd instructions given a curious look of utter innocent obliviousness, looking around the block they've stopped at, shifting carefully in his seat. "So. What's the rub?" The southern lean in his voice warm and relaxed.
Julie is, of course, driving. Since it's Queens and mutants, it's a mint-green 61 Chevy that's a bit rumpled, but only Josh has ever seen before among present company. She duly downshifts and takes a left, but, never having really met Jay before,in this context, much less folloewd a Cajun around the city, says, "You got something in mind, here, guy?"
"Yup," Remy says as he reaches for his sunglasses, despite the hour. Up on the right, a group of rowdy young men are exiting a car, drunkenly, and looking to head up to an apartment. "Same ting dat always in dat brain a mine, Joshua," he adds cryptically. "De rub won't take more den a few minutes, Jay-Boy. Y'got my promise. Anyone who wanna stay in de car can stay in de car. Anyone who want to come wit, can come wit."
Josh shares a long look with Jay. Then he eyes Julie. Finally, the golden boy shrugs and moves to exit the car, "I still have no idea what you're up to." The drunks are eyed with a bit of wariness: the last thing in the world Josh needs is a bunch of drunk humans. So he ducks his head, to try to arrange for it so that light doesn't land on his skin and reveal the shiny. "But I'll watch your back."
Remy LeBeau goes home.
Remy LeBeau has left.
Julie has left.
Remy LeBeau has arrived.
Curiousity makes Jay cock his head slightly to one side, exchanging that long look with Josh, his eyes widen slightly and one eyebrow cocks upward in question to his friend, trying to discern what he thinks on the matter. A nod in silent agreement and a 'why the hell not' sort of shrug, Jay shoves open the door and follows. "Well, Ah'm not gonna sit in th' car like Old Ms. Murphy waitin' fer her son t'come back and drive her home from church." Nobody knows who Ms. Murphy is, Jay. But he doesn't seem to care much as he posts up beside Josh if he can, trying to insert himself automatically between the drunks and the glided glint of his friend's skin. A relaxed shove of his hands into his pocket, the soft 'click-click' 'click-click' of his sandals follows him.
The three drunks use the key to get into the apartment landing. Smoothly, before the door closes, Remy stops it with out a sound. His eyes are covered by his sunglasses, but he turns to look at the other two and gives a nod. It opens slowly at Remy's beckoning and he brings a finger to his lips.
Josh gives Jay an amused grin, tilting his head at the analogy, "Well I'd never confuse you for Old Ms. Murphy." Following Remy, Josh looks a little uncertain: this is starting to feel like a Brotherhood op, which Josh isn't exactly sure what he feels about that. But he's put that behind him, hasn't he? As has Remy. Right? Still, when Jay interposes himself between the drunks and him, Elixir gives his friend a quick smile. But he nods to Remy an agreement of silence, and follows his old teammate in.
The amused little joke wins a bemused, crooked smile to Josh while they stroll in Remy's wake all the way up to…the door? Oh man. The Cajun looks back and the look written all over Jay's face is crystal clear. 'What the /hell/?' First, shock and alarm, then weariness as the young man just /gives in/ to the crazy. Well, he's going to do it anyway, and Jay isn't the sort to abandon someone, much less someone who just bought him a nice dinner. How do you get a good guy to do a questionable thing?
A gentled sound of whispering friction thrums around Jay as his wings fluff and strain underneath his overshirt, making his silhouette larger before they slick back down. He reaches down and pulls the flip-flops off his feet, leaving them there outside the door. Stealth mode. An uncertain look turned back to Remy, Jay shrugs and nods in a 'well…ahlraght…' manner.
The trio get up to the door in silence. Remy, with his sunglasses, looks something like out of a spy novel. Or like he's an extra in a biker movie. He's definitely a guy on a mission. He reaches down to test the door. Even in this part of town people are so trusting and he opens it up. Five paces down the hallway before anyone notices. One of the drunks is about to yell out, but quick as a flash, and far more athletic than he looks, Remy unfolds his bo staff and shoves the guy down into the chair. He's walking in like owns the place. The other guy looks scared as shit and the third guy is taking a piss. "Evenin' mes amis."
The look that Josh gives Jay is clear: he isn't really sure what's going on here at all. But he eyes Remy as his stave comes out and things turn on its edge, and Josh considers for a moment. He's not in the Brotherhood anymore. He's not. But he's here and he can either trust Remy or not trust Remy: and he decides to trust him. Softly he murmurs, "You better know what you're doing." But then he's tugging at his thin, creamy gloves and once one comes off a golden hand gleams in the light, and then another, and the gloves are shoved into his pocket. He steps up beside Remy and crosses his arms over his bright yellow hoodie, looking from person to person. And then back to Jay.
Great. Now they're breaking and entering! Jay frowns as he feels his criminal record gaining some girth, following Remy into the place and down the hall, the young man gasps, audibly as Remy whips his staff out and engages one of the drunks. His verdant eyes are wide, mouth fixed in a silent 'o' of shock as he stands frozen in place. Frozen, until he hears the toilet flush down an adjacent hall and he /rushes/ in that direction, mumbling, 'S'cuse me, one second…' politely while he sucks it in and slips past Remy and Josh, straight for where the bathroom door is. His intent? Either hold the door shut or snag the guy as he exits.
The third guy looks to be exiting, but Remy lets Jay go by with ease. The Cajun seems rather calm about this whole deal. Even going so far as plopping down in the recliner, reaching to the right side, and putting up the foot rest theatrically. "Boys….boys boys boys boys." He reaches up to pull of his sunglasses, revealing his crimson and black eyes. "I…am a mutant. And I know y'know all about mutants because some of mah friends down in Mutant Town tole me about you bad, bad, bad boys."
Josh pushes his hoodie back off his head, letting his gold with gold-spun hair to show off his mutantness too. But he gives Remy a nervous look, side-whispering, "…I thought we didn't do this anymore." That said, he turns a dark look at the men, and he cracks the knuckles in his right hand, "What did they do, Gambit?" he asks in a serious, louder tone. His eyes flicker over to regard Jay and give him a nod: good job!
Jay rushes past just as Three is exiting. "Hai," the good ol' boy greets and reaches to snag the drunk by his shoulder and one arm, twisting him about like only a guy with a million brothers knows how to do. "Come on, man. Stay cool." The young red-headed man comes back, leading the other fellow in front of him to rejoin the rest. Calm is good. Jay seems a little concerned, but so long as things don't get violent, he remains calm as well, letting the third fellow go but standing right beside and behind him.
The explanation draws a frown forth, brows furrowing together. Mute, Jay's attention flicks back and forth between Josh and Remy, back and forth, back and forth, then out toward the drunk young men they've ambushed. A prickle of alarm starts to travel along his skin, but he says nothing to give the illusion of solidarity at the very least.
"Well, lemme tell ya bout dat," Remy replies to Josh. "So, I get dis phone call dis aft'noon from my friend Patricia Reece. Y'all know Patricia Reece, am I right?" The guys in the living room, drunk as they might be, look nervously at each other. "Seems you tree boys been terrorizin her every day on her way t'work. Dat true?"
The drunk guys are slow to admit any wrong doing.
"Seems they like to mock her for bein' a mutant like me. Dey also tell her, or at least hint, dat dey gun do some real bad tings to her." Remy tilts his head at them, "Now mah friend Trish fraid to even go to work anymo'."
As Remy explains the situation, Josh looks a little relieved. A little more relaxed. This isn't a Brotherhood op. Brotherhood ops don't have this much explaining involved. But he also starts looking angry, and he picks a drunk at random to stare at. Long, hard, and cold, is our golden healer. "Trish is a nice girl." he nods over to Remy, even though he doesn't know her. He plays along instead. "Going through life trying to live her life, never hurt a hair on anyone's head." He looks back to Remy, "I can't say the same thing about you, Gambit." He looks to Jay again and gives a reassuring nod. This'll be fine, his expression says.
Remy LeBeau has partially disconnected.
Intimidation doesn't sit well with Jay. His heart pounds away in his chest and the look he exchanges with Josh even after the explanation and attempt at reassurance is very uncertain. "Why can't folks be more neighborly to each other?" He exhales a soft breath, murmuring softly under the main current of the conversation and tone Josh and Remy keep. "Ain't like she can help it any. Brother, sister, son, daughter, cousin, best friend…anyone can jus' suddenly start showin'." A hurt furrow of his brows. "Why you gotta be a spaz about it, man?" Not asking any one of the three in particular, the softer touch of the three.
"Gold be right ova dere. Ah am not de nicest of men. Worse, ahm just leavin' a relationship where de woman was de sole reason for my transformation. Ahm goin' through a difficult day. But 'nuff bout me. Let's talk about you." Remy repositions himself. "In de olden days I'd have showed y'all how I can charge, kinetically, any non-organic material and turn it into an explosive." He smiles sarcastically at them. "Den I'd tell ya how my friend Gold over here could bring ya back t'ife. And we'd jus' do it agin and agin and agin."
"But ole Gambit turn ova a new leaf, see. So ah'aint gun do dat. No. But amma tell ya dis. Don't make any one of us come on back here. Because even do it a tough day for me, ah had a real good thing happen dis afternoon. Count yoselfs luckeh." The guys look back and forth, ready to piss themselves, and speechless.
As Remy says 'explosive', Josh provides helpful sound effects and makes exploding gestures, complete with golden hands that suddenly radiate golden light. Usually his golden light is good: but while making explodey gestures, he imagines its not so much. He nods his head in agreement with Remy, "Again and again." He sighs, regretfully, "The last person who hurt someone in Mutant Town is still alive. I suppose you could call it alive even if you can't ever move at all, ever again." His voice is deadly serious and grave: and the regret isn't feigned. But he shrugs, "Do yourselves a favor. Don't give us a reason to remember what you look like." And with that he turns, lifting his hood up as he does so to walk to the door, looking to Jay, cocking his head and nodding to the way out.
Listening to the tale that Remy and Josh weave about the last folks they encountered, he doesn't have to fake that grim expression. Still, for being part of the 'mutant brute squad', he doesn't seem terribly tough. He presses past the guy he dragged up from the bathroom, thudding his solid shoulder into his from behind, mumbling a gruff 's'cuse me'—because even when trying to be tough he's polite. Excited to get the hell out of there, he beelines for the door on bare feet and avoiding looking at Josh and Remy.
"Love ya boys! Say hi ta Trish fo me. Better yet, don't. Dun say nothin' at all." Remy pops out of the recliner, flipping the handle with a little too much force. The springs heave and he leaps out of the chair, throwing on his sunglasses again and closing up his metal bo staff, which he replaces in his trench. On his way to the door, he slaps the wall twice, hard with his open hand as a sort of 'good night.'
For a long while, the guys in the room stand there, unsure of what to say, and whether to call the cops.
Josh's entire demeanor changes when they exit, and he turns a glare for Remy once they're outside, and he even gives him a shove of his shoulder, "You should have warned me what we were going to do. Look, I'm not against going and putting some fear of god into some fools who are terrorizing people because they can—" Which is just what *they* did, and is tone says he recognizes it. He gesture-points towards Jay, "He's not that kind of guy, man. He's not like you and me, man. If I had known you were wanting to do this — it should have been just you and me. Not him." He sounds defensive of Jay.
Jay is quiet as he strides back out to the street, his bare feet slapping on the pavement for several feet before he remembers, oh right, flip-flops, and turns right around with a slightly flustered air about him to walk back and grab the forgotten footwear he left by the door. Freezing in bent posture as Josh starts to defend him, the young man straightens slowly with owlishly wide eyes darting between the two older mutants. Sweeping a hand through his hair to shove it out of his face while he balances to put his sandals back on. "At least nobody got hurt…" Defending Remy's decision? Maybe not, but it's a little immasculating.
"Yeah, prolly," Remy admits as he walks along the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. "Ah shoulda told y'all what ah was gunna do before ah dun it." He lets out a bit of a sigh and looks to Jay. "Sorry, Jay-Boy. Josh be right. Dat bein' said ain't no one was eva gun get hurt. Josh and I dun do dat no more."
There's a nod slowly, "It was just a show." Josh nods to Jay, and to Remy, "We weren't going to hurt anyone." Probably? He wasn't sure where it was going to go for a bit there, "But whoever Trish is.." Apparently he doesn't specifically know her, "..can't really defend herself and they're picking on her specifically. Someone had to do something. In the old days… something woulda been bad. Is it better to just scare them straight? I don't know. But what else is there to do? Sit down and have a reasoned discussion?"
"Ah know Josh's on the up an' up, Remy," Jay elongates the vowels in Remy's name, chewing on it a little bit while he looks between the two he's traveling with. He can't actually say the same with certainty on Gambit. "No offense. Ah just weren't prepared fer it, that's all." A frail attempt at defending his masculinity all while softly 'flip-flop'ing down the sidewalk. "Ah ain't opposed t'helpin' folks out; it ain't right what those Bozos did to yer friend. Ah just—" Jay cuts off mid-sentence and jams his hands into his pockets, conflicted. The young man /wants/ to be helpful, but he's stuck in that awkward in between with his /conscience/. Softly, he admits. "Ah'd almost rather be there jus' t'make sure it didn't get outta hand."
"Like ah said. Ain't no one get hurt and ain't no one was gun get hurt," Remy shrugs his shoulders. "Shoulda toldy'all. At de same time, dat gal Trish ain't gun have no one botha her no more. Dose boys is done. And dose boys gun tell otha boys too. Reiteratin' dat we did dat with no one gettin' hurt. Din even need no committee meetin', community organizin' or rally eitha."
For all that Josh is a healer, he gives Jay a little confused look: he hears in his words something, but he doesn't entirely understand. The offense against Jay's masculinity went unknowing by him so he's not sure what's going on by the expression on his face. He nods to Jay, "Well, yeah, I wasn't prepared, I'm just used to things like this." That go way, way worse, but that remains unsaid. But he heads to the car, "It wasn't an ideal situation, and someone coulda looped us in but someone gets that." Mild glower to Remy. Its totally mild. The glower of a friend to a friend. But he nods. "But someone's life is gonna be better tomorrow."
Jay nods, slowly at first while he mulls and processes everything that happened over. Not necessarily sullen or unhappy any longer now that it's all said and done, but thoughtful. "Ah understand what yer both sayin'. It was the simplest thing t'do, no real need t'get it all complicated. Ah mean, back home if someone has a bone t'pick, you go an' pick that turkey. But it's not usually after bargin' in their place." Maybe that's what bothered him? Struggling to pick apart his feelings on the matter, he gets to the car still a bit lighter in the soles of his feet. Giving the other two front seat privilege. "Yer raght, it was the raght thing, Ah'm just not the tough talker type, Ah suppose. Dinner was nahce though, yeah?" Drastic subject change!
As they get to the car, Remy shrugs his shoulders and gives the upwards palm to Josh as if to say, 'I dunno. I fucked up.' He doesn't seem to be too broken up about it, but at least he admits his was wrong. "Dinner was pretty gud, non?" he replies with a grin. "We gunna have ta go back sometime." Pause. "Mebbe wit less of de breakin and enterin."
"I admit it might have been slightly better if we coulda got them before committing a crime by breaking and entering…" Josh has to grin a bit ruefully, nodding and accepting Jay's point, "But that probably helped sell our story." He slips into the car, but scoots sideways, so he can look between Remy and Jay at once. "To be frank, 'tough talker' was never my skill of choice. I was playing backup fiddle. No one's cared of golden pretty boy even if they should be, so Gambit here had to lay the foundation of the warning before I could reinforce it. That particular skill is one our, uh, prior association taught." Ahem. Brotherhood. But then he adds a grin, "Dinner *was* good. I've never had cajun food in my life."
"Nawn," Jay agrees, teasing at Remy's accent and vernacular with his own heavy southern lean, smiling softly with a dip of his chin while he buckles in. "Ah get it, Ah get it, th' big bad mutie broke on into their place. Just hope they don't get the dumb idea of uppin the antie. Ah seen it time an' time again with real stupid folk where it just makes 'em more angry." The read head leans back in his seat, head tipped back and wings stuck cockeyed under his overshirt, peering up at the dark sky from the window. "Y'haven't lived till you had a good crawfish gumbo, Josh. We gotta go back again. Mah second cousin's husband's from Nola. Best bumblebee stew…" He sighs, drifting back to more pleasant thoughts. Always back to more pleasant thoughts.
"But you such a /good/ pretty boy," Remy says to Josh with a smile. "Dun tink bout it too much, Josh. De philosophy is whateva you want it to be. And when you get into circles, just blame ole Remy."
"Dat a popular strategy. Workin for lotta people in de past." Remy can't help but snicker as the car moves back towards Westchester.
"I know, I know, Remy. I'm the goldenest golden pretty boy of all golden pretty boys." Josh smirks at Remy with a grin, but his expression sobers for Jay, "That's the problem. How do you protect without escalating? I don't know the answer. The Brotherhood thought you responded to escalation by escalation. That's a death spiral." Literally. "But if that's not the answer, you still have to act." He shrugs, "You do what you think you can do." Josh glances back to Jay and looks profoundly skeptical, "Crawfish sound like seacockroaches. I will pass without *serious* enticement." is all he has to say about that. And off through the city they drive.
It'll be another three years before Jay can make a 'stay golden, Ponyboy' reference to Josh and have it make sense, but he smiles a touch anyway over the play over his appearance. Quiet and warmly amused for the ride back.