Bayville Unlimited

Encounters

By Kanshisha Tenshi

Disclaimer:  Don't own Bayville, X-Men, or any of its characters.  Nor do I own any songs mentioned in the entirety of the fic, just borrowing the names for a bit.  Savvy?  However, I do own "Bayville Unlimited," the fanfic and the club, by my onesy.  It is not an actual club.  You can use it if you ask me nicely.

"Aren't you a little under-aged ta be drinkin', Romeo?  Ya're gonna have one helluva headache tomorrow."

            "Gambit don' follow no one's rules but his own."

            "So that means ya do?"

            "Non…don' move."

            "Why?"  Rogue put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

            "'Cause yo' makin' me dizzy, petite.  'M seein' two o' you.  Must be m'lucky day."

            "Oh, please!  Like, give us a break," Kitty interjected.

            "Kitty, what're ya doin' here?  Ya don't usually go to clubs."

            "But it was, like, totally worth it.  Look at all the cute guys here!"

            "That's not a good reason ta go ta a club."

            "Then, like, what is?"

            "Dancin'.  Listen ta the music!"  Stabbing Westward's "Save Yourself" was blaring over the Bayville Unlimited speakers.  Bayville Unlimited, the club the three teenagers, among others, were haunting that night, was a new club that had a bit of everything.  It had an arcade, dance floor, bar, and miniature food court.  Remy LeBeau had come in earlier than the two X-Women, sat down at the bar, flashed his fake ID and drunk three vodkas, a margarita, and two beers.  By the time the two girls had found him, he was woozy, dizzy, and his breath reeked of alcohol.

            Now he sat slumped over the counter, his brown contacts providing him with a look that belied how drunk he was and his more evident mutation.  Rogue, however, didn't cut him any slack over his intoxication.  She'd been angry at him since she first met him, when he tried to blow her hand off with the exploding card, even after she'd mt him again at school when two non-mutants had proved a threat to Evan.  Remy had scared them away and convinced them to keep silent.  Not to mention their more recent escapade into Louisiana via a train and a young man's devotion to his adopted father.  She could forgive him a few things, but that didn't lessen her anger by much.  And now, seeing him here, now that everything was back to normal after Apocalypse's defeat—he had no reason to be drowning his sorrows.

            And while that anger still peeked its way forward, she had to make herself angrier to keep from noticing how cute and charming he was, and how her heart fluttered when she was around him…

            …Except when he was drunk.  Not very appealing.

            "So how'd ya get the booze, Prince Charmin'?"

            "Wit' dis."  He handed her the ID he'd used with numb fingers and a clumsy smile.  "So, chére," he drawled while she looked at the card.  "Would dat make you m'princess?"

            "In ya dreams it might.  Where'd ya get this?"

            "Someone owed Remy a favor, an' he called in on it.  T'ieves get a lot o' respect from ot'ers back in N'Awlins."

            "What's he talking about, Rogue?"

            "Nothin'.  Jus' drunk babble."

            "Okay," Kitty said warily, tossing a glare the Cajun's way.  She hadn't forgotten when he'd stolen Rogue from them.  She wasn't ready to forgive him, and she was sure Kurt wouldn't, either.  Rogue was her friend, but Kurt was her brother…kind of.  "I'm, like, going to go talk to Kurt," she said coldly.

            "Kurt's here?"

            "Like, yeah.  Bye."

            "Kitty…"

            "Don' worry 'bout it, petite.  You c'n stay an' keep Remy company."       

            "That ain't what Ah'm worried about.  An' what if Ah don't feel like it, swamp rat?"

            "Swamp rat?"

            "Ya lived in Swamp Country and ya're a pest."

            "T'anks, he said, rolling his eyes.  The effort made him dizzy, and he grabbed his head.  "Oh.  We prefer 'bayou.'"

            "Ah'm sure ya do.  So what're ya doin' here?"

            "Only way I c'n keep sane anymore."

            "Didn't know ya were sane t' begin with."

            "Gee, t'anks," he mumbled.

            "Well…" she started shyly.  "Xavier's always got room.  Ah mean, it would take some time ta adjust, considerin' yo' history, but it'd be worth it."

            "Didn' know you cared."

            "Ah don't!" she snapped.  "Xavier's lessons stick with ya, is all."

            "Sure dey do," he said with a drunkenly mischievous grin.

            "What exactly is that s'posed ta mean?"

            "Whatever you wan' it to, petite, jus' don' speak so loud."

            "'Fraid o' bein' seen with meh?"

            "Non.  Au contraire, Remy love t' be seen wit' such a bell femme.  But yo' givin him a headache."

            "Do ya always speak in third person, or is this a drunk thing?"

            "What is dis, Twenty Questions?"

            There was a long silence, and Rogue sat down on one of the red-cushioned stools.  She straightened her black long-sleeved blouse and tugged on her short black skirt.  To compensate for her mutation she also wore leather gloves, thigh-high boots and a spiked collar.  A goth through and through, she wore all black in contrast to her pale skin and the white streaks in her auburn hair.  Next to her, Remy drunkenly straightened his pale brown trench coat covering his typical black body suit.

            "So why're yo' eyes brown?  Last Ah saw ya they were black an' red.  Ah liked those bettah."

            "Kinda like you an' dat seat."  Rogue blushed under her layers of make-up.  "People don' like eyes like mine.  Dey like normal, brown eyes.  So I wear contacts."

            "Didn't think ya could cover up that black part."

            "M'head," Remy moaned.

            "Must be soberin' up.  That was pretty quick.  But Ah think Ah'll save the 'Ah told ya so' for later."

            "Merci."

            "Ah think ya should go home.  It's borin' here anyway."

            "Non, chére.  'M fine."

            "Yeah, sure.  C'mon, swamp rat."

            "Non…"

            "Look, either drag ya own Cajun ass outta here or Ah'll carry it outta here mahself.  Move it!"

            "I love it when yo' forceful."

            "Charmin' even in a hangover."

            "You really t'ink so?"

            "No, now go."

            With Rogue's help, Gambit stood and stumbled out of Bayville Unlimited.