4 January

Strawberries. n. 1. the fruit of any stemless plant belonging to the genus Fragaria, of the rose family, consisting of an enlarged fleshy receptacle bearing achenes on its exterior 2. the plant itself 3. slang. a pimple from drinking excessively

"How'd you do it?" Rogue asked abruptly.

Remy blinked. "Wha?"

"Ah couldn't get close ta anyone for years, and then you come along and get me ta open up," Rogue explained. "How'd you do it?"

"A little charm goes a long way, chere," Remy replied. He accompanied the line with a wink.

"Ya ain't as good as ya think, Sugah," Rogue shot back humorously. Despite what she said, Remy probably had it spot-on. His affable behavior allowed her to climb out of her protective shell within a very short period of time. He knew how to humor her and how to keep her interested, but she had a nagging feeling that he was also capable of much more and was simply toying with her. He had some minute control over her that Rogue should be wary of. The boy did well in keeping some hidden layers.

Something flickered in Remy's eyes, then, something more than good will. "I'll keep dat in mind."

Alison barged into the room at that point, cutting off further conversation. Both Remy's and Rogue's eyes shot to her thin form. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting you?" Neither of the couple answered. "Oookay … you sure know how to make a girl feel welcomed. I'll just scoot on out—" She turned to leave, though didn't move any farther than she had to when Remy finally answered.

"Don't bother, Ally. Rogue an' me were jus' goin' out, see da sights. We were jus' talkin' 'bout where we'd go. Ain't a big town wit' many excitin' t'ings, though. Any suggestions?" Rogue blinked at how believable Remy's story was in such short notice.

When Alison turned an inquisitive look on Rogue, however, she whipped the shock off of her face and smiled. "Best ta get knowin' where Ah'm livin'," she supplied helpfully.

"You're asking me? I didn't think you were interested in what I liked." This was all directed at Remy, whom shrugged.

"I tend t' hang out wit' da shady bunch." Rogue was beside herself with surprise at this revelation. She didn't think that Remy was a bad character in the least bit. "Rather not corrupt her so early, ney?" Alison nodded as if such a thing to come out of Remy's mouth was expected, further baffling Rogue.

"We always wonder what you do," she commented.

Remy grinned. "Ain't not'in' excitin'."

Alsion leaned in and lowered her voice. "Do you deal drugs?" Her eyes shifted to take in Rogue's face as if in some form of threat to never relay her inquiry.

"Dat's da rumor flyin' 'round? Mon dieu, chere!" He shook his head at the audacity of his peers. "Non non. It's uh, family business."

"I didn't think you had family," Alison replied. She stood back up with a guarded expression. Rogue looked between Remy and Alison, completely in the dark.

"It's debatable."

"Ally, right? We jus' need ta know if you have any ideas for sight seein'." Rogue moved to grab Remy's hand to pull him away, but stopped herself short; she didn't own a pair of workable gloves. Instead, she stood up alone, hoping the other two would follow suit. Allison was already standing, but Rogue needed her to lay flat her bristles.

"There's a moody café in town. Dark atmosphere; cheap, but good food." She crossed her arms over her chest and changed her stance to something more stable.

Remy rose to his feet with the grace of a cat. "Merci," he tossed to Alison with a cherry voice. He didn't look at the blond as he left, Rogue quickly following him.

"Remy?" Rogue asked as they came down the hall. They moved in a leisurely pace through the mansion. "What was that?"

"Best not t' get into it, Rogue," Remy replied. "I jus' di'n't come from a pampered family 'fore comin' here."

He stopped in front of Rogue's room. "I'll meet ya down by da door?" He paused. "You got a coat?"

Rogue shook her head. "Never crossed mah mind ta have a big, fluffy thing like y'all got here," she explained. "Ah thought you only came up with a story to … Ah'm not sure."

"T' get rid of her?" Remy smirked. "You sayin' I'm a liar, den." Rogue blinked at his thought process. "See, I'll be a gentleman an' take a pretty lady out. Maybe buy her some appropriate clothes, ney?"

"Ah don't wanna cause trouble," Rogue protested. Remy was talking money now—his money—and she felt it was hardly fair to him.

Remy began leader her in a new direction. "Nonsense," he argued. "I woul'n't be suggestin' it if it was a bother." He placed his hand on a door knob. "In da meantime, you wear my coat."

The room they entered into was rather plain. Remy had a few garments hanging on the furniture, but it was in an organized manner. His bed was made, the curtains were open and he had a nice view of the grounds.

He nodded toward the door from the middle of his room, his fingers fumbling with his shirt. "Got my coat on da back da door."

Rogue turned around to close the door, reaching up to pluck his long brown coat off a hook. She faced him again, slipping it on. "It's warm," she commented.

Remy didn't reply as he pulled a tight pink shirt over his head. The sleeves were black with a wide stripe of pink rectangles running down the sides. "That looks like the costumes the others were wearin'." It was two different colors and in a completely different pattern, but it had the same feel.

"'Cause it's my costume," Remy replied, replacing his shirt from before over top of the pink. "Uniform, in a way o' speakin'. Keeps me warm while ya got my coat." Rogue's face flashed hotter. "Don' you worry none, chere," he said in response as he pulled on a pair of incomplete gloves; a few of the fingers on each side were missing. "I don't get cold much easy."

Remy escorted her through the mansion again. "How are we gettin' ta town?" Rogue asked once they made it out the front entrance.

"I got a bike. Ya don't mind?" An unspoken 'do you?' lingered on the end of his question.

"In this weather?"

"Ain't no snow or ice on da ground," Remy reasoned.

Rogue's face projected her uneasiness. "Ah dunno ..." She didn't even know if he was allowed to operate the vehicle; she had assumed Remy was her age. Even if he had his license, he couldn't have had much experience on the road.

Remy stepped in closer to her, grabbing her softly around the wrists through his coat. "Live a li'l, chere. You don' want me coaxin' Scott t' drive us t' town." Rogue didn't know if that was a threat or not.

"You sure?"

"Always." Without waiting for a firm affirmative, he dropped his hold to trot off. "I'll be right back!"

Rogue didn't have much choice but to stay in place unless she would act stubborn and follow him. Instead, she stood awkwardly on the driveway, holding herself to ward off the cold. In truth, it wasn't that cold outside, but as she allowed her mind to wander, she felt the chill that much more.

Eventually Remy came around again, easing his bike around the yard. As he pulled up to Rogue, he tossed a helmet her way. Only quick thinking allowed her to catch it rather than allow it to bounce off of her and fall ungracefully to the ground. Before she moved to pull it on, however, she caught sight that Remy didn't have one. "Don't you think you should have a helmet?" she inquired.

"Jus' put it on an' let's go!" Remy grinned at her, knowing full well that he had successfully avoided her question. Feeling self-conscious, Rogue put the helmet on, climbed onto the bike behind Remy and awkwardly wrapped her arms around his waist. "Hold on tight," he suggested before taking off.

Rogue's teeth were chattering by the time Remy parked his bike. During the ride she had tucked her head down into his shoulder blades, not thinking about how uncomfortable it would be for him. Shaking the chill out of her fingers, Rogue plucked the helmet off of her head and held it out, staring at it. "What do Ah do with it now?"

Remy wordlessly snatched it out of her hands and set it on the bike seat. "Dat works."

"You sure?"

"Nope, but we'll see, n'est-ce pas?" He started walking off, throwing the question out the window. "First we gonna grab a bite t' eat. Den we look for somet'in' you can wear da rest da winter. An' somet'in' t' cover dos hands o' yours." He glanced over his shoulder to look her in the face. "Alright?"

"Ah guess," Rogue replied skeptically. "You don't have ta ..."

"'Course I don't," Remy asserted. "Someone's gotta do it."

Remy had no problem in finding the club Alison mentioned, unless it was a place he frequented and Rogue didn't know. Remy ended up ordering her a strawberry drink and nothing else. "You gonna starve, y'know," he warned her.

"Nah. Ah'll survive fine." Remy tossed her an unconvinced look, but didn't push the topic further.

"An' now, we find you a nice coat an' gloves," he announced. Rogue looked down at her drink. "Finish it on da go."

"That allowed?"

"Prob'ly not." Ever-daring, Remy led her into a store, giving her free reign of the stock. Rogue took her time in choosing her own mock-leather coat, but quickly plucked a thin pair of gloves shaded a healthy green. "All ready?"

Rogue looked down at her choices. "They look alright?"

Remy scoffed, taking the garments gently from her hands and walking it up to the lady at the register. "Dey fine, chere. You worryin' me wit' all yer worry." The twinkle in his eye and the smile on his lips said differently.