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The cigarette hangs loosely from Remy Le Beau's lips, barely hanging on through the tacky nature of his dry lips. In a few years George Thorougood will talk about how when your mouth is pretty dry, you're pretty high. His eyes open and close slowly, looking as if he's about to pass out in the late summer heat. For barely noon on a Sunday, it's sort of early to be this wasted. Out in front of him a pair of patrons, bikers by the look of it, are playing pool.
New York City in the 1960s is still new to Hope. It isn't that she has no experience with cities - she lived on her own in one for years in the future, although that was a little different. And she spent enough time in her own time to get the general idea of them. But it's still strange to her, this many people all living together, all relatively peacefully, in a society that more or less functions on law and order. Even if neither of things are always very fair.
So when the strangeness of it all starts to get under her skin, she does something about it. She goes out to learn more about it. Those wandering steps have led her to this dive now, pushing in the door and stepping inside with her hands in the pockets of her jeans. The jeans and short-sleeved sweater might fit in well enough, but there's still an edge about the girl, something fundamentally out of place.
When Hope enters she'll find about 6 patrons in the bar, plus the bartender. Two bikers playing pool, mentioned before, a wasted Remy Le Beau, one old man sitting with a lone beer in front of him at the end of the bar, and a pair of younger thuggish looking guys at their own table. Everyone, including the bartender, head turns as Hope enters. The exception being Remy.
Is she supposed to say something? Everyone is looking at her. Normally that's because they expect her to do something. But this doesn't quite seem like the place to be friendly…or to go directly to fight. So instead, she straightens her shoulders a bit, chin tipping up as she walks up to the bar next to Remy - he's not with the herd, so he should be a strategic place, right? "Hi," she greets the bartender, almost a challenge in the word.
"Miss," the rough bartender responds as he gives her a nod. "What are you drinking?" he asks, matter of factly. The rest of the men give her a long, long look and a couple of guys murmur to each other about the young redhead, but no one says anything. There are no catcalls or anything immediately aggressive. Instead, the only interesting thing is that cigarette falls from Remy's mouth onto the floor an a few of the embers break off and flash for a moment only to go dark. Remy lays his head down on his arms which he places on the bar.
Hope would really like to just get a coke, but something tells her that won't go over well here. What's the closest thing she can order that won't get her tossed out? "Rum and coke, please," she answers the bartender, quirking a brow over at Remy when he goes down. "Uh…" She reaches over, poking at his shoulder with one finger. "You okay there, buddy?"
It takes a few seconds before Remy realizes someone is trying to get his attention. Eventually his head comes up and he looks over to hope with nowhere, mutant eyes, and a wide shit eatin grin. "Don' good lil lady, doin' swell!" His smile fades and his head goes back down onto the bar.
"Jus' some poor drunk," the bartender says dismissively as he nods to Hope. "One Rum and Coke, coming right up." He fixes it kind enough, apparently far more interested in making money than preserving the street cred of his toughguy bar.
Hope doesn't look particularly convinced that Remy's just drunk, or else the glimpse of another mutant means she's a little more concerned than she'd usually be. "You seem kind of, uh. Really out of it." Poke. Poke poke. Once her drink is ready, though, she pulls a couple bills out of her pocket. Just where she's getting money at all is a question for another day.
Suddenly a striking woman enters. She's wearing a beautiful white dress, way too elegant for a place like this. "Chester? Chester I can't believe what you've done." She promptly stalks towards Remy with anger in her eyes. "Hmm?" Remy replies as she sits up. The woman seems as if she's about to say something to the drunkard, but stops just short, right next to Hope. She hauls off and slaps him right into the face. And not some light slap. It's the kind that reverberates.
Whoa. Hope picks up her glass just in time, cradling it against her chest with wide eyes as she looks between the woman and Remy. On the one hand, sometimes people need to get slapped. On the other hand… "Hey, lady?" Hope edges a little closer, trying to get between the pair. "I kind of get the feeling he's not really in any shape to hear the whole ten cents worth of whatever you need to tell him right now. Not that he doesn't deserve it," she adds quickly. "Just saying he's probably not gonna get the full appreciation of it right now."
The woman begins to tear up. "This man told me he loved me. Then he cheated on me, lied to me, and totalled my goddamn car! Come here and look at what this asshole did!" She storms out of the bar towards the front door, bringing the bartender and most of the patrons with her towards the street. Hope can just get a glimpse of the red sports car as the door opens.
While the others head for the door, Hope stays by Remy, trying to push him up. "Hey. Buddy." She glances toward the door, then back to Remy. "Hey. You are about to get seriously messed up right now. And you might deserve it, but since you can't really defend yourself right now, I don't really feel great about just letting it happen. So maybe you should, uh…Seriously, what did you take?"
Remy can't help but chuckle, "Her heart, mon ami." He squats down slowly and tries to pick up the cigarette he dropped earlier.
"Holy shit!" one of the bikers exclaims. "Let's go kick that guy's ass!" There's a rumbling out there and it seems they're right about at that point where things are going to explode.
Hope gives Remy a long look, trying to make some choices about her life. Mutant messiah, right? She's supposed to save mutant-kind. Everyone can be saved. Probably. With some work. "Okay, you need to go," she decides, setting down her untouched drink and reaching over to grab the back of his coat. "Let's find the back door," she mutters, already dragging him away from the front.
"Hey!" Remy says as he snaps awake with blaring, angry eyes and bats at her hand. "Hands to y'self little lady, or you may be fixin' to only have one left." He stumbles to his feet, though, thinking that moving for the back exit is probably a good idea. They haven't come back through yet, but they will, and it likely won't be good.
"I doubt that," Hope snorts softly, releasing his coat but staying behind him. "If you were capable of blowing yourself up, I'm pretty sure you would have done it by now if you're often in this state. C'mon, move, those guys are mad," she urges, looking over her shoulder.
"You' prolly right," Remy replies as she looks over her shoulder. "Any chance gal willin' t' run interference for a poor ole mutant?" He's shuffling towards the back door, but it's not clear if he will make it without some help. "I'm going to kill him!" yells the woman in the white dress from the outside as the door bursts open and a score of men willing to do the deed for her burst through, aiming to kick the shit out of one Remy "Chester" Le Beau. Or was it Clifton? Sometimes he can't even keep it straight anymore.
"It's sort of what I do. Move." Hope ducks under his arm, helping to hurry him along, but not without pausing to grab a ball from the pool table on the way. As she holds it, supporting him, a pink glow starts to build in the ball, her own eyes shifting to match his. "How long until this blows?" she asks, holding it up.
"Now," Remy says as the explosion is about to happen. "Shit, throw it!" The purple is glowing and is about to explode right in her hand. The Cajun doesn't look to worried, though. He's too busy looking longingly for the cash register, knowing this particular caper went to shit. Dammit.
LeBeau doesn't wait for Hope as he breaks for the door. There's about to be a big god damn explosion and he has no interest in sticking around and mopping up the mess.
When someone says throw the grenade, you throw the grenade. That's a lesson Hope learned early. So she doesn't wait after Remy says 'now,' lobbing it toward the opposite doorway to let it explode before their pursuers can even get inside. If it also happens to minimize property damage, well. She did spend enough time with the X-Men of her own time to pick up a few principles. "Let's move," she urges outside, moving as quickly as she can while holding him up.
*POP*
There's a muffled explosion that does enough to rattle some windows. Who knows what happened to the men inside, though given the smallness of the object and limited charge, they are probably more scared than wounded. The pair head towards the alleyway and as they arrive, the woman in the white dress comes from around the corner, breathlessly. "Remy, what the fuck? Who is this?" The Cajun shakes his head. "Well, did you get the money?" The Cajun shakes his head.
Hope may be a little bit lost in time, but she's pretty sharp when it comes to reading a room. And she knows what's just happened now. "Oh, come on," she says, disgusted, as she steps back to let Remy fall or not, depending on just how much of his inebriation he's faking. "Seriously? Seriously? I don't know if I'm more mad that you were trying to rob the bar, that you were trying to rob that bar, or that your plan was that bad."
He's not really drunk at all, honestly. He's nod mad either. Just disappointed. "Just teachin' the lady here a thing or two. Ain't nuthin' serious. Dis is Lisa from Nawlins. Part of de family as it were. Y'heard my name is Remy. Who are you?" Lisa looks fucking annoyed.
"That was the worst plan," Hope mutters, rolling her eyes. "Hope. I'm Hope. And you should go before those guys think to check out the back door, and you shouldn't be anywhere near him," she adds to Lisa, "Unless you want them to put the pieces together and kick both of your asses. You meet up somewhere in the clear, not right behind the place. Tell me you weren't going to drive off together in that car?"
"Nah, different car." Remy chuckles and gives Hope a wink. "For de record, we'd have totally gotten away wit it if you hadn't been around. Least it got some excitement for de afternoon, non? Dat sweater of yours tell ole Remy you get as much excitement as a mongoose in a rainstorm." He looks to Lisa, "Let's head down dis way. S'long, Hope."
"Yeah. Well. I wasn't consulted on the shopping trip," Hope mutters, taking a few steps back to get space between her and the others. "And I live with old people." It's not untrue. "So long, Remy, Lisa. Try not to get caught."