I Feel Like I Went 9 Rounds With Ali
Author: OCs (Chrysie, Wren & nameless bastards) belong to either me or Mirokou. Ragin' Cajun belongs to us.
Wren got up from where she sat by Gambit and slipped back behind the bar. "I'm headed upstairs." she told Chrysie. Chrysie nodded and returned to bar tending.
Wren opened the door to one of the many spare rooms and muttered, "Guess you're still not awake huh?" The man who lay in the bed comatose was African American with short black hair and a small amount of facial hair. Unfortunately no one knew who he was. Despite Chrysie healing him physically, he still hadn't woken up. Wren sat in the chair next to the bed, put a hand on his forehead and pulled on the telepathy she had absorbed a few years ago somewhere up north in Baltimore.
Chrysie looked up as the lights dimmed briefly. Most of the bouncers, other bar maids and customers didn't notice.
But Gambit's eyes flew to her and he gave her a look that plainly asked, "Where's Wren?"She glanced briefly towards the stairs before motioning him over with a turn of her head. "Well ladies and gentlemen, if y'all will excuse me, I think I'll be taking a break." he said.
"C'mon Remy." several voices objected.
"Have a lady friend I need to be speaking to." he drawled, touching the brim of his hat and turning on his heel. A few seconds later he sat at the bar. "Why's Wren upstairs and not down here? Ain't she working tonight?" he asked.
"She's tired." Chrysie growled, her tone warning.
"That girl's got the worse case of insomnia in Nawlins and she don't make every light in the place dim unless she's pulling. Now what the hell is she doing up there?" he demanded.
"She's checking on someone who came in after you left. Now leave it be and try to keep a closer eye on Logan, he's about to get himself into trouble... again," she said, nodding to Logan. The man sat in a corner surrounded by bikers. Unfortunately, the feral seemed to attract more trouble then Remy runnin' a hot table during Mardi Gras. Remy began edging towards the feral as one of the bikers slammed his fist into Logan's table.
"I'm talkin' to you, punk! What the hell you think you doin', hangin' here all the time?" the man yelled. Logan calmly glanced at the crowd that was gathering.
"I'm here 'cause Chrysie trusts me to not start trouble," he replied.
"And I'm not about to break her trust. I suggest you do the same."
The biker wheeled around and called across the bar, "Hey, LeTeur! Is what this bastard said true? You trust his sorry ass?"
"Yes and you'd best back off 'fore I have you and your crew removed," the barkeep answered coolly.
"Make me," the man sneered, swinging around and decking the feral. At once his buddies joined in, punching and kicking, barely giving Logan time to react. Remy jumped in to help his friend and he was joined by several of the bouncers. The brawl was over in five minutes and the instigators were thrown out and told they were banned from the Cajun until further notice.
Many hours later Wren dragged herself downstairs almost tripping as she did.
"Mon dieu." Remy yelped, catching her.
"Thanks." she muttered. He set her down at the bar as Chrys set a cup of coffee in front of her.
"Ya look like ya just got done playing a few hours of poker with Remy." she teased.
"More like she just crawled out of a fox hole." Logan growled.
"And I feel like I just went nine rounds with Ali." she added.
Remy toyed with his cards nervously and asked, "Whatcha been doing up there cher?" She smirked as footsteps echoed down the stairs.
"The clothes don't fit but 'til I can get some of my own they'll work." a voice said as a figure came around the corner.