Edit; Decided since I got a review complaining about some of the mistakes that I hadn't noticed before I might as well go through this chapter again and comb out all the issues that needed to be fixed. Although, for the future, Mr/Mrs 'Apostrophes' if you want to give constructive criticism, try growing a sense of decency and being a little nicer about it, instead of showing how much of a pompus jerk you really are.
That said, since I didn't do it the first time;
Poker Face belongs to Lady Gaga, thank her for the awesome Gambit like song. XD
Mum mum mum mah
She leaned back against the cold metal, letting the music take her. Her body swayed to the beat, letting herself be pulled into the frenzy of rhythms and tones. She ignored the foul smell of booze and cigars, ignored the loud catcalls and wolf whistles of the club's various patrons, crowding around the stage in the hopes of getting a better look at this pale nymph, this curvy dancing thing. It was just her and the music.
Mum mum mum mah
She ran her hands over herself, allowing the crowd to get a better view of her soft cleavage, a gift, one that granted her more cheering and, she could only hope, more of the wadded green papers that were the only things keeping her off the street. Some men she recognized, and she resisted a shudder. No…she didn't think she'd need their company tonight.
'Just keep dancing' she told herself.
I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas please
One of the men reached out towards her, grasping for a pale ankle. She quickly danced out of his reach, and he got a word with security. She thanked whatever god there was for that, if it weren't for some of those bouncers…She shook her head and lost herself in the song.
'Keep dancin', don't think about them, s'long as they give money it doesn't matter how they're lookin' at ya.'
She turned, giving them a good view of her backside and began to move sensually against the metal pole. She let the bass guide her, rocking her hips erotically, eliciting more calls and maybe a few moans in the crowd.
Fold 'em let 'em hit me raise it baby stay with me
She may not have noticed, but one particular patron was paying special attention to her, and trying very hard not to. Remy Lebeau usually didn't go after the dancers in this club, as a rule. He preferred getting his company for the night from those who were off work, or those who were simply in there for a good time. He didn't like going for whores, he was good enough without having to pay for his bedmate. However, something about that dancing goddess caught his attention.
She was pale, thin, like she hadn't had a decent meal in a while. Her hair was long, wavy, and brown, but strangely with a white stripe running down the side of it. He longed to run his hand through that stripe, wondered how soft it would feel. He subconsciously licked his lips; damn that femme looked good enough to eat.
LoveGame intuition play the cards with spades to start
He noticed the way all the men were practically climbing onto the table to get a hold of her, through his empathy he felt her fear, and he wondered what could have happened to put someone so young into a place like this. Her movements were hypnotizing; her skin like a siren's song beckoning him, but her emotions screamed 'Stay away!'. It was a puzzle, one he was quite eager to solve. He didn't get up from his seat at the bar, simply waited. She 'felt' exhausted, she was going to quit soon, and when she did, he'd be there.
And after he's been hooked I'll play the card that's on his Heart
They were too close; she knew it was time to make a break for it. Quickly she gathered her 'earnings' and headed off the stage, quickly snatching up any stray pieces of clothing that happened to have left her during her frenzied dance. She straitened up her costume, a flimsy green attire just barely covering up what was decent, and quickly headed to the bar, signaling her usual from the bartender, praying for her heart to stop racing.
"An' what would a petite like you be doin' in a place like this, hien?" Said a deep, honey coated masculine voice barely a foot next to her. She turned towards the voice, to be met by a tall, lean figure in a black leather duster, a black Fedora on his head. His hair was long and brown, reaching down to his shoulders, and his eyes were also a deep chocolate brown. Her eyes roamed down further to examine his lean figure, clothed in a casual black muscle shirt and his legs enveloped in some loose jeans. Her gaze lifted back up to his face and she blushed when she saw his mouth turned up in a cocky smirk. He knew she had been checking him out. His own eyes quickly took in her own scantily clad figure, and from the smirk that came after that, he liked what he saw.
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got
This femme was a diamond in the rough alright. Remy could hardly believe that such a belle could be living in such poor company. She looked to be barely 20, maybe 21, far, far too young to be in a place like that. And what was with this fear he constantly sensed coming off of her? She was young, beautiful, and scarred shitless of her own shadow, though she certainly put up a brave front. Even then, as she was flushing furiously over having been caught blatantly checking him out, she had huffed and turned to her drink, like he had offended her or something. Really, what was with that? So she was checking him out, that's what people did at that club right? He simply had acknowledged that she had good taste. Not only that, but he showed her that he appreciated what he saw as well.
Remy sighed; clearly the poor girl did not belong in this shithole, where men like him tended to frequent. However, she was there, and working, obviously trying to keep herself off the streets, or fed, or whatever else she did with her earnings. It was her choice, even if he didn't agree with it; he might as well go with it.
"What? You don' like what you see Cher?" He smirked again at her. She was in this place, in this game, and she interested him. He wasn't one to let a gem like her pass without at least some attempt.
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got
"I've seen plenty Cajun, and frankly I'm not in the mood to see more tonight." She kept her voice hard in the 'not in the mood to talk' tone. The bartender handed her her drink, and she thanked him before taking a swig. Honestly, this man was infuriating, why didn't he follow the other men's examples and stare at the busty half naked blond who was dancing on the other stage not five tables away from them? Why did he have to choose her to pursue this night? Though, in all honesty, he was only doing what her other 'regulars' tended to do after she got off the stage. She knew what he wanted, and she hadn't exactly gotten all of her rent for the night, she was going to have to go back to the stage at this rate, crowd or not.
She sighed, this was the game she chose to play, he was simply a willing participant, and she, a willing target.
As expected, her tone hadn't deterred him.
"Aw, Cher, why be like that? Why so uptight after putting on such a magnifique show for us poor scoundrels?" He leaned closer to her, causing her to tense up. She hated people being close to her, always had since her 'incident' always would. Especially since her newfound 'freedom' included the company of more than a few of these wasted individuals.
Can't read my
Remy noticed her stiffen, sensed the sharp panic pulse off of her. What happened? She had tensed when he had come too close. Remy's jaw clenched with his speculation. She was too young, far, far too young to be there.
"Why are you here? In a place like this?" His hand gestured around him, indicating the dancing girls, the intoxicated men, the loud music and smell of cigars.
"What could happen to make such a belle fille end up in a dump, dancin' for rogues like us?"
Can't read my
"Maybe I am a rogue." She felt the heat rising to her cheeks again. No, not again. This man was getting too close, too close to the heart of things. Why should he care? She was just another tramp in a club, sure, she was young, but there were plenty of young things in clubs like this. He had no right to her past. No right to care.
"It's mah life; I live it how I want." She gave him a glare over her drink, trying not to notice how simply talking to him made her feel hot all over, how her blood warmed when he expressed concern for her. It had been so long since someone had seemed to care…so long…
"Why ask? You just want what all the othah guys around here want." She glanced in the direction of all the men, leering as they were at the leggy blonde. From the looks of it she was making a good haul, a lot of those guys were going to be disappointed, or maybe Blondie was going to bed one of them in gratitude? She had a feeling that was why she never got quite enough, that, or maybe she just wasn't exactly what her boss called, 'Money makin' gorgeous'.
No he can't read my Poker Face
"Mebbe I think you wouldn't mind it, at least not if the company decides you should get some fun outta it too, non?" He reached forward, slowly so she wouldn't panic, at least more then she already was, and grasped a strand of white hair.
"What are you scared of Cherie?" He whispered to her, putting his empathy into his words to try and calm her down.
Can't read my
She slapped his hand away, not hard, just making to motion to show that she didn't want him there, that close. Her cheeks flushed as she gave another glare in his direction. "I'm not."
Can't read my
"Yes you are Cherie. I can see it on your face." A lie really, all he could see on her face was nervous arousal and anger, but Remy chose instead to focus on the fear and underlying panic that was screaming at him through his empathy. She was good at hiding her fear; a sick feeling in his gut told him that she was only that good from lots and lots of practice.
'Too young, far, far too young'
No he can't read my Poker Face
"Where do ya think ya get off like that?!" Now she was getting angry, who was this guy? Who did he think he was, prying into her life like this?
"Ah ain't scared, least of all from the likes of you!" Her accent came out strong when she was upset, a clear indication that he had, in fact, gotten right to the point of her. She was scared, scared shitless of this place, of these men. She had gone and danced that dance, played the game so long, and she was still scared. She had been scared since she had left her home at the Institute, but she couldn't go back. She couldn't return to that life, ever.
P-p-p-poker face p-p-poker face
"Oh really? Prove it petite." There, she was angry now; perhaps he'd get some answers, or at least push at her barriers a little and manage to find a way to help her. Her fear was still there, just underneath the surface, and her anger just a flimsy mask overtop of it, but she was still angry for real. He was irritating her, and irritated people did things that fearful ones shied away from
Still…He hadn't expected her to crush her lips to his. Or maybe he had? It was what he wanted. It was so sad that she was still panicked underneath all her false bravado.
P-p-p-poker face p-p-poker face
She couldn't believe herself, here she was, kissing a guy that she had just finished telling she had no interest in sleeping with like some cheap hooker…Well…at least she was playing the right part. She broke the kiss almost as soon as she had started it, giving him a glare that dared him to challenge her and call her afraid again.
So what if her face was flushed and she was breathing heavy from having just taken in his scent, so heady with Cajun spices and cigarettes. She chose to ignore her panting breath.
I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be
Too brief, it was all too brief. Remy instantly wanted to grab her and show her that she had nothing to fear from him. Her face was flushed, and she was breathing heavy. Even his empathy picked up what her body was clearly telling him, she liked it, liked kissing him. Still, the fear was there, as always.
"What's your name Cher?"
A little gambling is fun when you're with me
She waited a moment before answering, than sighed in resignation. She couldn't get rid of him, no matter what she tried it seemed.
"It's Rogue."
"Jus' Rogue?"
"Just Rogue."
"That's a…rather interestin' name Cher."
She gave another sigh; this man was like a fly or something. She still couldn't understand why he cared, he had blatantly refused to answer that particular question, instead turning all of her questions and asking his own.
"Don't call me 'Cher' Cajun. Ah'm no one's Dear. And that's the only name you get, girls like me don't need names, only looks."
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun
Remy paused, taking in the girl before him with his brown eyes. Well, she had mentioned before that she was a rogue, so the name shouldn't have surprised him, however, he still wanted to know why a woman like her was wasting her time in a dump, whoring herself out to the highest bidder. He felt sadness and resignation from her, and his heart ached in response.
Odd…she kept asking the question, and he was starting to wonder for himself. Why DID he care?
"You seem like a Cher to me, and you still haven't answered my question once this entire night. Why are you here?" He leaned back, giving her some obviously much needed space and he felt her relax.
'Take it slow Remy, this poor fille's been through a lot it seems, and way before her time.'
And baby when its love if it's not rough it isn't fun
"Well, you haven't exactly answered mine either." She gave him another glare.
"Why do you care?"
Suddenly her face froze, something that didn't go unnoticed by Remy, and the both of them eventually looked into the crowd to see a rather buff blond man heading in their direction. Rogue stiffened, but gave a false smile in the man's direction, visibly trying to look happy to see his person, while inside she was all but screaming in frustration, and more quietly, panic.
'Of all the times for James to be here!' she shouted in her head.
I'll make him hot, show him what I've got
Remy had a few choice words to describe about the blond man that was approaching, many of them followed by a quick punch to the face. He didn't like the way the man was grinning, scratch that, leering at Rogue, didn't like the way Rogue tried so hard and so badly to hide her panic at his approaching figure. It was screaming at his empathy, sure as if she was screaming out loud. He was very glad for all the years of playing poker as he gave no outward sign of his feelings as the stranger stopped at the bar, giving an appreciative, and unwanted, once over at Rogue's figure.
"Baby, are you taking off work already? Perfect timing, the boss let me off duty just now." The man made no hesitation of taking a seat next to her, grabbing her, pulling her against him so that he could run a hand against the side of her face.
Rogue was clearly not enjoying herself, but for some reason that Remy couldn't understand, she wasn't protesting against it.
"Well, Sugar, I was thinkin' of goin' back onstage since I still have a bit more to go for the rent…" She glanced almost longingly at the stage, as if anything were better than being in this man's arms.
"Nonsense babe, I'll talk to John and he'll cover it." Jock wannabe wrapped an arm around Rogue's shoulders, causing her to stiffen up more. Remy had to use every ounce of his self control to not get up, pry the man off of her and beat him senseless. What kind of ass blatantly goes out of his way to press himself into the company of a girl who obviously didn't want him?
Well….thinking back, Remy had to admit that he had been doing the same thing not too long ago. But there was a difference; he didn't make Rogue's emotions scream like this, this, blond haired buffoon obviously did. Also, contrary to what Rogue and himself were insinuating, he did want to help. Why? He didn't know, but he still wanted to.
Blondie narrowed his eyes at Remy, "Who's this lowlife babe? I hope you weren't thinking of skipping into his bed for your rent. You know you just need to come to me right, Hun?" He turned his glare to point a dangerous one to Rogue, another thing that made Remy want to bash his face in. He was threatening the femme now. Dieu, the man must be a pig.
I'll make him hot, show him what I've got
Rogue kept her composure, barely, as James' hands started their usual wandering. She had hoped to leave the club before he got off work, like that ever changed anything, but it seemed luck wasn't on her side this night. She kept up her fake smile and ignored the flash of irritation that came with his so obvious insinuations that they were anything more than just acquaintances who so happened to work at the same club.
"Now Sugar, be nice. Ah wasn't gonna do anythin' with this guy, we were just talkin' is all." She kept up the meek and docile smile for James; he was looking to be in a very dangerous mood this night.
James gave a rather unconvinced look at Remy, his eyes narrowing in irritation.
"Talking, right. I'm sure you were just getting to the question of 'Your place or mine?'" He turned his unconvinced gaze back at Rogue, who only shook her head weakly, gone was the confident and sassy girl she had put forth with the Cajun man, she was broken and weak in James' arms.
"N-no James, it's not like that at all."
Can't read my
"How about you leave the Femme alone, she's right, we were jus' talkin'. No real reason for you to fly off the handle homme." Remy was starting to really, really hate this guy. All he gave off was aggression, lust, and pure possessiveness when it came to Rogue, and he didn't like it one bit. Least of all did he like the waves of panic coming off her person the longer she was held in the man's arms.
Obviously James was starting to like Remy just as much.
"And what's your name, homme?" He sneered as he said the last word, making a piss poor French accent as he said it. Remy cringed to hear it, really now, was it necessary for every man who had an issue with him to mock his Cajun heritage? Was it funny? He didn't get it.
"My name's Remy, Remy Lebeau. What's yours?" He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back against the bar, glaring at the pig from under his hat. How he wished that his eyes stayed red, instead of only changing whenever he used his powers. He would've loved nothing better than to scare the pants off of this la mère Baise de la Merde.
James narrowed his eyes and stood up, taking Rogue with him. Remy couldn't understand why she didn't fight back, but judging from the emotions coming off of her, one of which was a powerful feeling of resignation and hopelessness, he was guessing she already had…and quite possibly had gotten hurt for her trouble.
"My name's James, and if you come near my Anna again, I'm going to wipe the floor with you."
Can't read my
With that the two quickly headed out of the club. Remy waited exactly five minutes before he followed them. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was he couldn't resist a Femme in trouble, and that particular one, guessing from the panic/anger/despair coming from her, was in big trouble. He still didn't know who she was, or where she came from, or why she was there, nor did he have an answer for her question. That is, why did he care?
Well, either way, Remy had a feeling that James was going to be having a bad night that night. He grinned wolfishly at the thought. No one hurts a woman in front of the Rajin' Cajun.
No he can't read my Poker Face…
Disclaimer; I don't own Marvel, these characters, or barely even this plot…well….maybe I own this plot, however some of the jokes that come in here are certainly not of my own creation. *nods*
I don't know a lot of things, French and the way Strip clubs work with their employee's, or how they work period, so forgive me if some of this is off. This is movie verse X-men, and cannon with X1, X2, X3, and Origins, with maaaaby some guesswork and editing on Remy's age. I'm still debating on whether to make it that his age process is slower or not because of Dear Stryker's testing…hmmm…
Many things will be explained in a few chapters, just be patient, including the reason why Rogue's able to touch again. (Let's just say the cure wore off, as it's gonna be explained in the other chapters as well) I know I made Rogue kinda wimpy at this point, but there is a reason for that, and yeah, this James guy has her wrapped around his thumb. He isn't anyone you know, or anyone I know, or based on anyone I know…though I will admit for having a bit of a dislike for blond jocky types, and that's the type he is. *laughs* Other than that, he's just a random OC I made up purely for the purpose of getting his ass handed to him by Remy.
Long chapter, I really need to learn to write without getting on a tangent or something…srsly. *rubs neck* I need a beta too, planning on making more chapters for this as well. (Le gasp! 'Cune's gonna UPDATE?!) I know…shocking isn't it? I just figured with all my reading of stories I might as well actually…y'know…WRITE one. Romy that is.
I just went on another long tangent didn't I? Oi vea.
Review plsthx.