The snow hadn't yet piled high enough to make it difficult to get in yet. Inside her garden, it felt like the perfect spring. It was warm and smelled of sweet flowers and fresh turned earth. That's why he liked it so, that and the fact few people ventured there when the weather Goddess wasn't in it which gave him the perfect cover and solitude to do…what it was he was doing.
It was only fitting that the Cajun thief would steal away for a few moments, away from all the festivities and chatter, the chill of the outside and the dry heat of the mansion. He didn't want anyone to know that he was doing it; it was his little secret for the past few months and would remain so until he was satisfied.
"Hiding out are you Mr. LeBeau?"
He jumped at the distinctive sound of the wind rider's honeyed voice. He watched as the white-haired woman went around as if he weren't there, watering and feeding her plants. The air felt thicker now that she was there, jeans hugging curvaceous hips and a sweater just grazing the tops of them. Her hair was free-flowing for once, and curly and thick as if she'd just blown it dry. She smiled over at him, her cerulean eyes sparkling mischievously.
"So you caught me femme. I throw myself at the mercy of the beautiful goddess," he grinned, bowing at the waist from his seat on the ground.
"Is this what you do when you run away?" she asked lightly, grazing her fingertips along the waxy leaves of one of her larger plants.
"Oui, this is what I do…or what I'm tryin to do. It's harder than it looks, ma déesse," he lamented, a smirk on his lips.
"Must you call me that?" she smirked, resting the watering can on her hip as she glared at him.
"It's what they call you back home, non?"
"I am not your goddess, Mr. LeBeau. I'm just a woman who knows how to do what you're trying to do better than you do," she grinned, setting the can down.
"Oh? Well be my guest, fille."
The Cajun stood, wiping the dirt from his jeans and passed Ororo his guitar. She strummed a few chords, adjusted his key, and began to play some Americana. Her fingers moved deftly along the strings, her foot tapping out her time, her pouty red lips forming a pleased smile. He groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically, causing her to laugh.
"It's not that hard. Had you not been so secretive I could've been helping you out," she teased, passing back his guitar.
"You could help Remy out with anything you like ma cher," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows comically at her.
She swatted him playfully, a hand on her hip. Shaking her head, she began to leave her sanctuary. "Trust me Mr. LeBeau, there are some things I'm positive you don't need any help with at all," she tossed over her shoulder, leaving him chuckling lowly at the slight bulge that appeared from her few words. Not only could she command the weather and coax music from an old guitar, but it seems she was a snake charmer as well. Remy sighed and shook his head, beginning again with his chords.