|
  |
Remy winces as the cigarette smoke stings his eyes. He exhales and flicks the butt out the window and onto the simple looking street in what looks like an All-American neighborhood in the south. He double checks the scrap of paper in his hands to be sure the addresses is right and reaches to the dash to get his sunglasses. After driving through the night on pick-up duty, Remy is eager to get back to New York.
The car door creaks as the tall man saunters towards the door. He's wearing a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and down to the chest, of course, untucked over blue jeans and could probably use a shave. He knocks on the door quietly and steps back.
Somewhere in the small house one voice calls out, words muffled enough that they don't quite make it through the door. It's not but a moment later that an older woman pulls said door open, nervous smile appearing that's promptly touched with a little relief once she gets a good look at him for all that her own attire is pretty stuffy. "Thank you for coming," she says. "You're from the institute? Ruth is just getting her things." She shuffles out of the way of the door, the older, thoroughly pleasant woman offering up a kindley smile as she gestures for him to come in. "Can I offer you some tea?"
It really isn't long before the young woman appears at the top of the stairs, dressed in dark colors. Ankle length skirt, long sleees, and a blindfold to match the dark blue of her shirt. It's a brief little reach, a touch of curiosity accompanying a brush of her mind as she reaches to brush at the surface thoughts of the unknown mind.
"Tee'd be mighty fine, ma'am," Remy says putting on a bit of his southern charm as he smiles down at the elderly woman. "Dats right. Ahm down from New York t'pick up Ruth. Professah Xavier sent me." He gives her a polite nod, almost a bow. When Ruth appears at the top of the stairs he gives her a nod. "Ruth, name is Remy. Ah'll be takin' y'up t'New York." From looking at his mind she can tell he's done this a few times—and that there's a sympathy in knowing what it's like to leave home and head for the unknown.
There's no difficulty for her in navigating the stairs, even with the blindfold across much of her face. Ruth hesitates briefly at the bottom of the stairs as her aunt passes to go fetch the tea, adjusting the backpack on her shoulders. There's a couple more suitcases by the door, but she doesn't move towards them yet. "Remy," she echoes back at him. "Thank you." She pads over, stopping a polite distance back from where he stands, her chin tilted up as if she were looking at him. "It happened a lot faster than I expected. I'm going to be able to come back and visit?"
"Sho, Ruth. Y'can come back whenevah you like. Most of de kids head home durin' de summah or durin' winter break when dere no school. Mansion kind of goes quiet durin' dose months." He gives a nod over toward the bags, "Y'want me to grab dose?" After a bit of a pause, she can tell he's wondering if he should ask her if she needs help, despite not seeming to need to. He can't tell if she's actually blind or not, but doesn't seem to want to ask about it.
For all that it doesn't seem connected to his words, precisely, Ruth's shoulders slump abruptly as a good measure of the tension that was keeping them wound fades away. She huffs out a sigh and swallows hard, clearing her throat a moment later. "If you don't mind?" She turns some as her aunt toddles back into the room with a glass of tea, shifting a step back to get out of the way as it's brought over. "As long as you stay close, I'll be fine," she assures him before she turns in her aunt's direction at least mostly. It's only a little off. "It's really going to be okay, Auntie," she assures the woman. "If he's any example, I don't have anything to worry about." She takes a step and reaches out to set a hand against her Aunt's shoulder; the woman visibly loses a fair amount of her own worry in reaction.
Remy takes the tea and gives his thanks to the aunt. "Be happy to, chere." He sets the tea down and goes for the bags. "Iffen you wanna come up, ma'am, you can visit Ruth at any time. She's goin' to a good place, dat fo sho." He stands there with the bags in his hands, not wanting to rush the goodbye. This is much better than being chased out of Nawlins, like he was.
There's a tilt of her head when she hears the tea get set down, and Ruth lets out a laugh. She's still for a moment, frozen in place — and then she steps in and brushes a kiss against her aunt's cheek, hugs her briefly. There's nothing further said on her part, she just turns to head for the door, stopping a couple paces back from it to let Remy get it open. As soon as they step outside, she does reach out to snag hold of his shirt at the back of his arm, just above the elbow. There's some blubbering on her Aunt's part as she waves goodbye, words of thanks about visiting, but Ruth seems intent to go sooner, rather than later.
"Y'nervous t'all kid?" Remy asks as he leads her down the stairs and towards the car. It's a sports car, new, and to be sure goes rather fast. How he came into ownership of it is better not asked, probably. He opens the door for her and helps her in before bringing the bags to the trunk. In a few moments, he's starting it up. "Dey really good folks where you're headed, chere."
"Yes," Ruth doesn't even hesitate in answering that, shaking her head to go along with the word. There's only a bit of hesitation before she slips into the car once the door has been opened, feeling around a bit before she gets herself buckled in. She's quiet as she waits for him, following his progress with the presence of his mind as he moves, settling only once he's in the car with her. "It sounds like it," she tells him quietly. "My aunt said you'd be able to protect me."
"Dats de plan," Remy replies as he pulls out onto the road. "De Professah has made it his mission to find and help folks like us. An' everyone dere jus' like you and me." He pulls out onto the main drag, headed for the interstate. "Din' come till jus last year, but sure wish I'd have found it earlier." He looks over towards her as he pulls onto the ramp, "Fixin' t'have 'bout a 10 hour trip so we won' get dere till tonight. Lemme know if y'gotta get sometin' t'eat or hit de commode."
"I've never really been around anyone like me," Ruth admits, resting her head back against the seat and letting herself relax down into it a bit more as the car hits the ramp to the interstate. She can't keep up with watching the world, and so she lets her focus fall entirely on him, the touch of curiosity licking out in his direction. "I will let you know." She pauses there, then asks, "Is everyone there as nice as you are?"
"Well, errybody different in dere own way, 'course," Remy replies as he looks over to her with a smile. "Ah mean, like how we all individuals and what not, but we all similar in how de world views us." Remy can't help but chuckle at her comment. "Some less so, some more so. Ah tink you'll be likin' it pretty well."
She actually laughs, something which would probably shock her aunt at this point. Ruth's lips curve up at the corneres when she hears his chuckle, and she does nod her head for his words. "It sounds like I will," she says. "It doesn't quite seem real. Any of this, I mean. I know that it is, but I can't…quite wrap my mind around it, I guess."
"Ah din really believe it at first, either. When Scarlett brought me dere I was in pretty rough shape. My wife was…well, dat complicated. In any event she sorta saved me and brought me dere. Wouldn't be 'live wit-out de place."
Oh, there is most certainly a prompt bit of focus on his thoughts for 'complicated', though Ruth does catch her curiosity and haul it back before she tries to *really* poke in there. Right at the moment, the dark haired young woman is on her best behavior, is well rested, and seems more put together than her aunt had said she was likely to be. "Do you think I will be able to make friends?" There is something so very hopeful, to go with that question.
From her cursory probing of Remy's mind, she can get the gist of what his life was like. It was dark, and not necessary law abiding. Any specifics she'll have to go further into his mind to pull out. "Sure!" Remy responds with a chuckle. "De kids is pretty good 'bout folks bein' left out, considerin' most of us been left out quite a bit as kids."
"I'm not a kid, you know," Ruth does point out, with the indignation of every eighteen year old ever for such an accusation. "I finished high school and everything." She doesn't dig around any deeper, withdrawing so very promptly. For now, manners outweigh curiosity. Not that she won't pick up something on accident, but she's back to not reaching for it, at least. "I make most people feel a little…weird."
"Well, you got one above me den. Ah nevah finished school. Matta of fact, I nevah started school. Well, until recently. Gettin' my GED at Xaviah's," Remy says, not flinching as she defends herself. "Ah do too. Been aiight, fo' me."
"Really?" Ruth's tone is puzzled by the question, her lips curving down at the corners with the touch of confusion that crosses through her face. "I don't—why do you make people feel weird? I haven't noticed anything. You're really getting your GED? Do you actually need it?" So many, many rude questions.
"Well, ah had bit of a checkered past." You know. Grew up a thief. And is kind of sort of a mutant terrorist. Is, was…it's so slippery. There's other things, too. "Well, given dat I dun read or write too well, ahm tinkin' dat it a good idea. And it was important to me—important to my ex, too."
"Oh," she says, for his checkered past, though she does protest after a moment, "You feel so safe." Because that should make a difference for all of the people worried about his past. Of course. Ruth considers his latter words before she nods. "I didn't learn to read until I came to live with my aunt," she says, agreeably. "It's a good thing to know. If you ever want any help I'd be happy to."
"May take yer help on dat, chere," Remy replies with a grin. "Feelin' safe is half de trick." In Remy's past he's been a confidence man. Making people feel at home before he ripped them off in some way. Their wallets or their hearts.
"Oh," she says, though it's a few moments later than it should be for being a response to his words precisely. Ruth is quiet after that for a long few moments, but eventually she gives another shake of her head. "You're not trying to rip me off," she points out. "I don't feel like it's a trick."
"Not dis time, chere," Remy says with a smile. "Dun tink ah could get much from de clothes, anyways," he replies, clearly joking. "Dat's de nice part of goin' where you're goin, tho kid. Y'get to decide who you want to be from here on out."
"Well, I probably have a couple of dollars stuffed somewhere," Ruth tells him, but there's humor creeping into her tone again. There's another pause after those words are spoken before she adds much more seriously, "Thank you."
"Any time, chere," Remy replies. "And who knows, ah may have to get some of dose dollars when we stop t'eat," he adds with a grin.