Thievery*
*Based on my one-shot Thieves in the Night. I liked it so much, I decided to make a whole story out of it. Who'da thunk?
I don't own the Marvel characters (though that would be awesome).
Chapter One: Goddess at the Guild
The cards were literally burning a hole in his hand. He took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on the table. His auburn hair fell into his eyes as he rested his chin in his palm in an expression of faux boredom. He knew it was pissing his opponent off, as the gruff man grumbled and growled under his breath.
"Mon dieu, Logan I don't have all night," he smirked, yawning.
The stout man across the table flipped him the finger as he placed his cards on the table with a triumphant thump. Straight flush with 6 of spades high. Remy smiled, and shook his head, laying flat his royal flush with a sigh. His nonchalance made the wolverine growl and pound the table.
"Y' cheated! Y' always cheat Remy LeBeau! Never in yer stinkin life have y' ever played it straight!"
"Mon ami, I'm wounded. What would I cheat for in a game between friends?" the Cajun grinned, raking in his 50 dollar win. "Besides, this is just the warm up before the real game tonight, non?"
"Y' goin out again? I'm tellin y' LeBeau, one day you're gonna swindle the wrong man."
Remy smiled that winning smile of his, red eyes gleaming mischievously, "It ain't happen yet mon frère, but if it does I can protect myself." He collected his cards with a flourish, his flush clearly illuminated in red energy.
The Gambler's Guild was unusually packed for a middle month night. Tuxes and ties, jeans and trousers, all kinds were allowed in, for the right price. Remy slipped in unnoticed and seated himself at his usual table in the back. Shrugging off his duster and hanging his hat off the arm of his chair, he pulled out his favorite pack of cards and began to shuffle, patiently waiting.
Very few gamblers ventured into Gambit's den. It wasn't fear of him exactly, but any man rewarded the back slot was either a blood relative to the founder or a damn good gambler. In Remy's case, it was both. He sighed as he charged his cards absent-mindedly. Maybe he should've come in disguise; brown contacts, no duster or hat. Sometimes he craved being "normal." To be able to not feel he was different with every turn of every day. But then again, his unusual looks and charm had gotten him very far in life…At least with the women.
He ordered a beer from a waitress and watched people while he waited for a challenge. His eyes could easily find the new comers; their poker faces were terrible, their tells could be read by a blind man in the middle of the night. The older ones, the more experienced players could mask better, and usually did. The ones who'd already lost way more than they should've been betting were sweating like sinners on Sunday, while the fat cats who were high rolling were ordering more drinks, more cigars, and more girls.
He saw a man pat a woman on the rear with affection, a couple. A pang of loneliness stung him from somewhere deep inside. Sure, he never wanted for female company, but it never seemed to be the right kind. Rebecca, Savannah, O'Hara, Lyric…they all seemed perfect in the beginning, but over time nothing ever came of it. Their jealousies, their insecurities, their lack of interest in his life became a bore to him.
The air changed suddenly; it became humid and electrified. His red eyes caught her blue ones and from then on, he knew the night was going to go much different than he thought. Her petite feet were in a pair of black and white pumps. Her dewy, ebony legs seemed to go on for days until he noted her upper thighs covered with tailored black shorts. Suspenders went from her waist to her shoulders over a crisp white shirt, her ample breasts seeming to strain inside the fabric. Her face…left him without words. Prettily bowed lips were tinted pink under a delicate nose. Her blue eyes were framed by long, beautiful lashes. Most striking was her hair, which fell in waves and waves down past her waist in white silk.
The men in the room took note, most falling over themselves to offer her a seat. Graciously she declined most of them, instead asking for a free table. Remy's luck was good that night; his was the only free table available this time of night. He took a hearty swig of his beer and stood as she approached, extending his hand to her. She smiled and took it, her small hand fitting perfectly in his.
"Mademoiselle, my name is Remy LeBeau, and it would be my pleasure to play you in a hand of poker."
"Mr. LeBeau, call me Munroe," she answered politely taking her seat across from him. "It would seem you've had a bad night."
"Perhaps my luck has changed, non?" he grinned, placing the shuffled deck in her hands.
She easily manipulated the deck between her fingers, "Perhaps not. I should warn you Mr. LeBeau, I'm no light-weight player."
"Then this should be very interesting."