It had only been three weeks since his induction into the X-Men, and Gambit was already dissatisfied. He and Peter, having been rather close while under membership of the Acolytes, had joined at the same time. But now, that time seemed so far away. There was no fun to be had in a place like Bayville, no mischief to cause without the stern gaze of Professor Xavier. He considered it a plus being able to see Rogue on a daily basis, but it wasn't much. He found it rather obvious that she was interested in him, but also saw right through her high-and-mighty attitude regarding his past. It made no difference to him, after all.

But he also remembered, quite fondly, their little adventure during Mardi Gras. His only regret then was not convincing her to reveal her breasts, but it was a small loss. At any rate, he'd had a job to do and didn't need lusty images running through his mind. On his first day with the team, she had confronted him about his reasons for joining and even asked his name. He had focused those intense eyes of his on hers and asked her for her own.

"I asked you first," she said bluntly.

"But I'm supposed to be gettin' to know everyone I'll be livin' with now, darlin'. C'mon. Rogue can't be your real name."

"And Gambit's definitely not yours."

Gambit only smirked and walked off, frustrating her to no end. She felt strange, as if he had violated her somehow with his enchanting eyes. How she'd almost told him. Gambit knew he'd gotten under her skin, and he was loving every bit of it. Now he sat at a kitchen table, idly drumming the fingers of his right hand on the table's surface, cradling his chin in the fingers of the other. What he'd wanted was a bit of fun. What he needed was a cigarette. Though Logan had been allowed to smoke his cigars in the mansion, Gambit had been told to keep his smoking outside. Hank had told him that the manner in which he smoked was highly imitatable and he didn't want the younger mutants thinking that such a dangerous habit was "cool".

He strolled out to the grounds, meandering to the front so as to avoid the younger mutants, which he found to be a minor annoyance. Noticing the gate's mid-level brick lampposts, he decided to scale one to find privacy. Once at the top, he seated himself next to the bulb and lit one of his cigarettes. It was rare that he had much time alone. More often than not, without being in school, he found himself doing menial house chores along with some of the less desirable denizens of the house. Namely, Logan and Scott. He liked Logan fine, and had little or no problem with him, save for minor explosions of his temper at some minor incompetance on Gambit's side. But Scott Summers was a completely different story. Sometimes he found that he could get along fine with him, both of them being so close in age, but other times Scott was a miserably uptight forty-year-old trapped in a kid's body.

There were days when he wondered what had happened to the rest of the Acolytes, chiefly Pyro. The two would've never been truly considered close, but Gambit enjoyed his company. The kid may have been a firebug, and granted may have been a bit of a maniacal sociopath, but he really was a blast in comparison with the rest of the crew. The two of them had gone out drinking on several occasions, on nights that usually ended with Pyro, living true to his name, torched some sort of abandoned building. He was the cause of the recent rash of arson throughout Bayville, as far as Gambit was concerned.

He'd always heard that Sabertooth had run off out into God Knows Where again, and that Mastermind, too had disappeared. But men like Sabertooth never really do go away, and men like Mastermind just faded out of existence. He sighed as he finished his smoke and leaped off the brick post. It was a weekday. He'd finished his chores and had just finished his cigarette. The only thing he'd really had left to do was watch television or read, and his head was too foggy for the latter. He never really was much for television, really only watching the Networks and PBS, but there was only so much One Life to Live and Between the Lions that he could take. He decided to go and see what Scott was doing, against his better judgement. When he found him, he saw that he was out playing basketball alone on the court, really doing no more than dribbling and making shots that he usually missed.

"Hey, man, need someone to play with?"

Scott turned his head to the Gambit and nodded with a smile. He was wearing his visor, in case his sunglasses fell of while he played. The ball went sailing through the air and Gambit caught it deftly. He dribbled it for a minute and then set it against the ground. From his back pocket, he pulled out a black bandana and tied it around his head in something of a biker's fashion. Since his exile from the Acolytes and subsequent joining of the X-Men, his hair had grown a bit and now constantly fell in his eyes. Then he took off his black t-shirt and stood in his white wifebeater. He picked up the ball and began to dribble again, dodging Scott with skillful maneuvers and shooting the ball directly into the hoop. Gambit's black and red eyes shone mischieviously.

They spent the next half-hour playing nonstop and bonding, if only a little. Jean had been watching from the window and brought the two panting young men a tray with lemonade on it. They drank deeply and thanked Jean, though Scott tried thanking her with a quick peck, he was shot down.

"You smell entirely too much like sweat to be anywhere near that close to me," she said. Gambit and Scott both watched her turn on her heel and walk back into the mansion. He considered himself lucky that Scott hadn't noticed the long, lustful, blatant stare at Jean's posterior. They both knew that that served as the end of the game. Scott wandered off to do something he deemed important, while Gambit went off to his room. He leafed through his music collection, realizing that most of it was useless now.

It was mainly comprised of old jazz standards and instrumentals. Artists like Charlie Parker and Duke Ellington; composers like George Gershwin and Johnny Mercer. He had some vocalist as well. He leafed through the cds, catching names like Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and Frank Sinatra. Those were useless here. He'd always used music like that for a gentle sort of seduction, playing it right before claiming his prize. But now, he lived at an Institute. An Intstitue for Christ's sake. He'd have no girls here; no conquests in this bed. The rest of his music were collections of zydeco and old Delta Blues wailers. He looked at one particulat cd, Zydeco Classics and placed it in the small stereo beside his bed. The lilting tune began to make him homesick and he turned it off.

Gambit turned his head and looked at the clock that hung above the door. 3:00. The others would be coming back home relatively soon. He sat up and grabbed some clothes. The bathroom wouldn't be free for very much longer, and if he even hoped for a shower, he needed to do it before the kids came home. Once he had been showering for a few minutes, sure enough, he began hearing the clamouring of all the kids returning from school. Almost immediately there came a pounding on the bathroom door, demanding to be let in. It was Bobby. Gambit swore under his breath and shouted out that it was occupied. After thoroughly cleaning himself, he stepped out and looked at himself in the foggy mirror. He'd only pulled on his boxers, and was admiring himself in the massive looking glass.

"Yeah. I'm gorgeous," he said, more joking than serious. Without another word, he pulled on his worn-out jeans and a black t-shirt that was about a size too small. Gambit continued to admire himself in the mirror for a time until Bobby pounded at the door again. When Gambit finally left the bathroom, Bobby breathed an exasperated sigh. Gambit turned and gave him a little kick on the backside. He went back out to the front of the mansion for another smoke. Rogue came out and joined him.

"How was school, darlin'?" he asked between puffs. She waved her hand in front of her face to fan the smoke away. Gambit smiled. She went on describing her day while Gambit looked off into the distance, aloof, and nodding every once in a while, only half-listening. She soon caught on and shoved him down the steps he was standing on. He got up, still wearing the know-it-all smirk, and dusted himself off with the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"So, Rogue," he began nonchalantly, "what're your plans for tonight?"

"Nothin', why?" She looked up from her nails with obvious interest.

"How'd you feel about headin' out with me on a little moonlight rondezvous, chere?" he asked. Rogue began to blush under her thick makeup.

"Where'd you think we'd go?"

Gambit shrugged. "Just be ready at seven, darlin'."

Rogue smiled and agreed. Gambit smiled back; his wasn't as warm. At seven, Gambit pulled up in Scott's car and took Rogue out for an adventure. They had gone into the city and found a little coffeehouse where amateurs would go and recite poetry. Rogue had suggested it; Gambit didn't let on to how cliched he felt that it was. The two of them sat, over coffee, talking the night away. Rogue was asking several questions about why Gambit had joined with Magneto; questions Gambit didn't feel he could answer, at least not now. He was only telling her the candied version, with several coats of gloss painted over it. He made it seem as if he had joined for money and the kicks he thought he'd have. The real reason was never even touched.

At nine, Gambit had decided that they'd better return, or they'd never get back in time for her midnight curfew. They spent the whole ride back making even more conversation. Gambit looked at the girl sitting next to him. In the beginning, he'd only gone out with her that night to avoid chaperoning some outing with the younger mutants, which Scott had to do and why Gambit drove his car. Rogue had only been a minor flirtation; if she could touch, she'd probably have been another notch in his belt. But now, after a night of conversation, getting to know her better, Gambit had actually begun to feel something for her. The slightest bit of affection. He was shocked with himself. Of all the girls in all the world, he was developing feelings for someone he couldn't touch. He knew she felt something for him as well; it was only natural. Gambit was a heartthrob and a lady's man, what more was there to love?

And yet, he knew that all of his mental sarcasm he fed himself wouldn't cover up the fact. Over the past three weeks, he'd developed a real affection for the girl who called herself Rogue. She was only sixteen; Gambit was nineteen, almost twenty. It almost felt... perverse to him. Maybe if she were eighteen and he were twenty-one or twenty-two... But sixteen? He had to shake these thoughts out of his head. He wasn't going to develop feelings for a child. He wouldn't let it happen. But it already was happening, wasn't it? At that moment, Gambit hated himself and he hated her for making him feel in such a manner. As many sexual conquests as he'd had, though, she was different. And he couldn't hate her, not really. All it took was a single glance into those bright green eyes. When they pulled into the garage, they walked into the mansion and up the stairs together; before they parted ways to go to their seperate dormitory wings, Gambit grabbed Rogue's arm.

"Wait, chere. One sec."

"What?"

"Remy. Remy LeBeau. That's my name."

Gambit tipped her a wink and went off to his room. Yeah. The Institute wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it would be.