Warning: The following chapter contains T-rated behavioral content that surpasses the K+ rating of this story.
Cajun vs. Casanova
"Achooo!" Sabertooth sneezed violently as the machine dropped the mutants off in the next time period.
"Aghhh, don't do that into my hair!" Mastermind yelped covering his head. "Yuck, this is disgusting!"
"Don't blame me," Sabertooth wiped his nose on his sleeve. "The Firebug's the reason my sinuses are clogged with ashes from the burning Globe Theater."
"Then why don't you return the favor and sneeze the ashes all over him?" Mastermind snapped.
"Good idea, Masty," Pyro chirped. "They'll make treasured souvenirs for Shakespeare admirers everywhere. Want any Gambit?"
"No thanks, homme," Remy smirked patting his pockets. "I got all the Shakespeare souvenirs I want right here."
"Speaking of which," Piotr gazed around at the small, ornately decorated stairwell the Acolytes had appeared in. "Where and when exactly is here?"
"I am getting so tired of that question," Mastermind grumbled as he waited for the machine to clear up. It finally displayed:
February 18, 1765 A.D.
St. Petersburg, Russia
"Well, that's not completely terrible news," Remy commented. "And it's about time we ended up someplace in Russia other than Moscow."
"Too bad we keep ending up someplace other than our own time," Mastermind groaned.
"This place seems far too big to be a private dacha or mansion," Piotr stared out a window at a large snow-covered courtyard surrounded by a three-story square building with richly decorated exterior stone façades. "We must be in some kind of palace."
"Really?" Mastermind looked unusually hopeful. "Hmmm, maybe we're in the Winter Palace. I always wanted to visit the Hermitage Museum."
"Who cares how big or fancy this place is?" Sabertooth growled. "It's got vodka and that's good enough for me."
"How do you know there is vodka here?" Piotr asked in surprise.
"You mean besides the obvious?" Remy quipped.
"Because I can smell it," Sabertooth jerked a thumb at a nearby hallway. "Along with some cats, hors d'oeuvres and a bunch of people drinking and listening to music."
"Neat, sounds like a party!" Pyro chirped. "Let's check it out!"
"Yeah, I'd love to pick up a few party favors," Remy said as the Acolytes headed toward the sounds of music and revelry. "And maybe a nice femme or three too."
"Oh my," Piotr gazed in awe as they strode down a long, airy hallway covered with portraits and paintings. "These are incredible! This piece looks like an original Rembrandt! And that one a Rubens!"
"Really?" Mastermind studied one of the portraits closely. "Huh, you may be right. I have to admit, I'm impressed."
"Hey mates!" Pyro skipped ahead to an open double doorway. "You gotta see this!"
"Wow," Remy let out a low whistle as they entered a vast, airy state room literally dripping with opulence. Intricately carved columns and statues adored the walls while the light from a dozen magnificent, blazing crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling illuminated the entire space in grandeur. Nearly a hundred immaculately dressed figures moved around the room gossiping, drinking and laughing while a quartet of musicians played in the background. "Talk about luxury. This place makes the X-Mansion look like a dump!"
"It is beautiful," Piotr gazed at the stylish, elegant décor in wonder. "Look at the craftsmanship. Every inch of this room is a work of art."
"Some of these people look like pieces of work themselves," Mastermind shifted uncomfortably as several of the room's occupants haughtily stared at the Acolytes. "Arrogant, upper class snobs. They remind me of the snooty jerks who always looked down on me when I was growing up."
"Like it's any difference now that you're all grown down," Sabertooth snorted at the much shorter Mastermind.
"Ooo, pretty," Pyro gazed up at the flames glittering among the chandeliers. "Let's fire these babies up and see what they can really do!"
"Don't even think about it!" Remy quickly covered Pyro's eyes. "The last thing we need is for you to set the whole palace on fire with us still in it!"
"Yes, we are attracting enough unwanted attention as it is," Piotr gulped at the room's other occupants and vainly attempted to look casual. "No playing with the fires!"
"Awww, fine," Pyro pouted shaking free of Remy's grasp.
"So, young Denis Fonvizin," A nearby round-faced man spoke to his companion in Russian. He wore a dark green coat, gold embroidered waistcoat, knee-length breeches and appeared to be in his early fifties. "Now that you have graduated from university, have you finally decided to join me in the exciting fields of science, history and literature?"
"Thank you, but no Master Lomonosov," His companion replied. He wore a similar, less-decorated outfit and appeared to be almost twenty years old. "I have secured a position as a secretary and translator with Count Panin."
"Well, that should provide you with plenty of time to work on those plays you like to write," The older man chuckled. "And please, call me Mikhail."
"Wait a minute," Mastermind put the name together and turned toward the two men in shock. "I don't believe it! It's Mikhail Lomonosov!"
"Who?" Remy asked.
"One of the best-known polymaths and scientists in Russian history," Mastermind explained. "And the other man must be the writer Denis Fonvizin! I've read works by both. They're famous!"
"Eh, never heard of 'em," Sabertooth grunted.
"I vaguely recall hearing about Lomonosov in school," Piotr scratched his head. "But I do not recall reading about Fonvizin."
"You uneducated idiots wouldn't recognize Einstein or Goethe if you met them," Mastermind hissed. "Oh wait, you did!"
"C'mon Masty. Don't start acting like the arrogant snobs you claim to hate," Remy said. "You can't expect us to know every famous and semi-famous figure in history."
"No, but I bet you would if the figures were attractive and female," Mastermind snapped as Lomonosov and Fonvizin moved away. "Hey, wait for me gentlemen! I'd love to participate in an intelligent conversation for once and get your autographs!"
"What a nerd," Sabertooth snorted as Mastermind moved off. "Bonzo's a fool for geeking out over a pair of long-dead bums no one's ever heard off."
"Excuse me, Maestro Manfredini," A group of noblemen passed by surrounding a short Italian man who appeared to be in his late twenties. "When will we be privileged to witness another one of your works? Your last opera was quite enthralling."
"MAESTRO VINCENZO MANFREDINI?!" Sabertooth yelped turning toward them. "I love his stuff! Hey, come back here man! I wanna get you a beer!"
"Huh, guess Sabes is just a big fanboy at heart," Remy snickered as Sabertooth chased after the company of Italian music lovers. "We gotta tease him about his opera obsession later, right Pyro? Pyro?"
"Hehehehehe!" Pyro's excited giggles echoed throughout the palace. "If the chandeliers look this good covered in flames, I can't wait to see the fireplaces!"
"Oh boy, there he goes again," Remy sighed. "Wanna go keep an eye on him, Piotr?"
"Uh, maybe later," Piotr stepped back out into the long hallway. "After I see more of the palace's artworks."
"Suit yourself, homme. I'm gonna take part in a more profitable form of entertainment," Remy grinned heading toward a collection of oval, green baize faro tables set up along one of the walls. The activity of bets and cards being placed by both men and women was fast and furious. "Bonjour à tous. Mind if I join you?"
"Please do," A tall, handsome faro player addressed him in Italian-accented French. The man wore a neat rose-colored coat and breeches, white satin waistcoat, elaborately curled long hair and appeared to be around forty years old. "Are you sure you can afford the table minimum?"
"I think I can manage," Remy grinned pulling out a collection of gold souvenirs. "Let's buck the tiger!"
Meanwhile, Piotr stood in the middle of the long hallway admiring the vast collection of paintings. Ah, Jordaens, Hals, Titian, van Dyck, He sighed serenely while gazing at a large oil landscape depicting a rainbow. Rubens was a true genius. And the smell of these old canvases really helps bring the paintings to life. I do hope we get to meet more artists on future jumps…
"It is beautiful, is it not?" A soft, gentle voice addressed him in Russian.
"Huh?" Piotr turned to see an attractive, noble-looking woman standing next to him. She wore a light blue floral gown with matching petticoat, had long dark hair and appeared to be about thirty-six years old. "Yes, it is very impressive miss, ah…"
"Countess Praskovya Aleksandrovna Bruce," The lady smiled studying Piotr's form appraisingly. "And it is not the only impressive thing around here."
"Uh," Piotr blushed.
"It is so nice to meet someone who truly appreciates art," The countess turned back toward the painting.
"Oh, I do," Piotr smiled taking in the entire art-covered hallway. "The works here are simply amazing!"
"So is my lapse of not noticing you in the palace before," The countess tilted her head. "A figure like yours is hard to miss."
"Uh, I am just…um…visiting," Piotr stammered. "I am an artist too. Or at least I would like to be."
"Really? Do you have a patron?" Praskovya asked. "Or are you still an apprentice?"
"No, I work, ah…freelance," Piotr tried to explain. "I paint and sketch for fun."
"How fascinating," Praskovya casually took Piotr's arm in hers. "Tell me more about yourself as we stroll and take in more of the palace's extensive art collection."
"Um, okay. Thank you," Piotr said as Praskovya gently walked with him down the hallway.
"Winner to the queen! Three hundred rubles!" The faro dealer announced.
"Yes!" Remy smirked collecting his latest winnings. His initial wager of gold souvenirs had long disappeared back into his trench coat. "Come to papa!"
"My, Fortuna certainly seems to be blessing you with her favor," The tall, handsome man who had greeted him blinked in amazement. "Your skill at cards is simply outstanding while my usual unmatched faro proficiency appears to have abandoned me."
"Too bad, homme," Remy grinned making another bet. "You'll have to work long and hard to charm back the elusive hand of Lady Luck from me."
"Oh, that will not be necessary," The man smiled peering over Remy's shoulder. "There is a far more elegant and stimulating lady I am interested in pursuing."
"Yeah. Who…huh?" Remy turned at gaped as a young woman wearing a dark green dress and petticoat entered the room. She had shoulder-length auburn hair, white forelocks, grey eyes and appeared to be around nineteen years old. "What the? Chérie…?"
"Ah, buon pomeriggio signorina Marie Dąbrowski," The man stood and clasped the woman's hand before kissing it. "We meet again!"
"Greetings to you too, Chevalier Giacomo Casanova," The young woman smiled replying in Polish-accented French.
"Casanova?!" Remy's eyes darted between the two figures in shock.
"My dear, you look absolutely radiant," Casanova smiled charmingly. "Your sheer presence illuminates a room more than the great Helios ever could."
"Oh, Chevalier Casanova, you are such a flatter," Marie twittered.
"But it is well deserved flattery," Casanova crooned. "Especially when the recipient combines the mind of a Hypatia with the beauty of a Helen, nay a Venus!"
"HUH?!" Remy twitched as Marie giggled at the comment.
"Please, Casanova. Not in public," Marie blushed.
"If you insist," Casanova grinned offering her his arm. "I shall graciously accept your invitation to shower you with affection in a more private setting in the hope that we may become much more intimately knowledgeable with each other."
"WHAT?!" Remy yelped falling out of his chair.
"Oh, sorry sir," The faro dealer said as Remy accidentally bumped the table causing his bet to switch to another card. "You lose!"
"Huh?" Remy scrambled to his feet. "No! Wait! There's been a mistake!"
"There's no mistakes in faro," The dealer shrugged. "Would you like to make another bet?"
"Come my dear," Casanova started to lead the still giggling Marie out of the room. "This way!"
"AHHH! NO! COME BACK!" Remy frantically dashed up to them. "You can't leave yet!"
"Excuse me, sir," Casanova huffed in annoyance. "Kindly remove yourself and return to your silly game. We have more personal affairs to attend to."
"Oh, I know just what kind of affair a player like you has in mind," Remy fixed Casanova with a glare. "And the kind of personal game you hope to lure this innocent lady into!"
"Excuse me, but who are you?" Marie frowned at Remy curiously. "I do not believe we have met."
"Remy LeBeau, at your service," Remy gave her his most charming smile followed by an elegant bow. "I didn't know angels walked among us common mortals."
"Oh, I am no angel," Marie smiled while Casanova struggled to hide a frown. "I am just a poor Polish noble who has come to St. Petersburg with wild hopes of becoming a lady-in-waiting to Czarina Catherine."
"I don't see anything poor about you," Remy smiled. "Your eyes alone are brighter and more beautiful than all the stars in the heavens."
"While your burning red-on-black eyes are so unusual and intriguing," Marie stared back in wonder. "So alive, so passionate…"
"Yes, well," Casanova interrupted quickly. "The lady Marie and I were just leaving. So if you excuse us…"
"You'd dare deny me the pleasure of the femme's company?" Remy feigned surprise. "Shame on you for trying to keep all that divine beauty and loveliness for yourself."
"As if you do not desire to do the same," Casanova muttered under his breath.
"A perfect, cherished blossom such as you must be parched," Remy grinned at Marie charmingly. "May I get you a drink?"
"Yes, thank you," Marie smiled. "You are quite the gentleman."
"And more," Remy smirked waving for a servant.
"Please get one for Chevalier Casanova too," Marie called after him.
"Of course," Remy gritted his teeth as he and Casanova shot concealed glares at each other. Oh, it's on!
"I do enjoy Rembrandt's work," Countess Praskovya smiled as she and Piotr stood in front of a six-foot-tall painting. "No matter the subject his unique style and perspective always shines through."
"I feel the same way," Piotr blushed at the life-sized depiction of the mythological Greek character Danaë lying in bed in the nude. "Though some subjects are more, uh, thought provoking than others."
"Oh really?" Praskovya gazed up at him teasingly. "They say a painting's true worth is not the subject or technique, but the feelings it invokes in the viewer. Tell me, what deep feelings does this particular work invoke in you?"
"Well…um…I…uh…" Piotr stuttered.
"Of course, this is just one of the many pieces available for the palace's guests and residents," Praskovya waved at the various displayed artworks. "There is also a private collection that is only available by personal invitation by either her majesty Czarina Catherine or myself. Would you like me to show you the palace's private works of art?"
"Uh, yes," Piotr blinked.
"Excellent," Praskovya smiled. "This way."
"Okay," Piotr said as he followed Praskovya through the palace's maze-like interior.
"Here we are," Praskovya led him into a private suite of apartments. "What do you think?"
"Wow," Piotr gazed in awe at the interior of a bright, airy bedroom. Exquisite portraits and paintings adorned the walls while elaborate murals covered the ceiling. "This is wonderful! It is such an incredible collection of…ahhh! What are you doing?"
"Just making myself comfortable," Praskovya smiled while smoothly discarding her gown. Her petticoat soon followed revealing a strapless, full-bone silk stay and chemise. "Why don't you make yourself a little more comfortable too?"
"Huh?" Piotr stood torn between total shock and panic.
"I told you this was a private collection," Praskovya grinned hungrily as she locked the door and began herding Piotr toward the ornate bed covered with silk and satin sheets. "Really to appreciate a real work of art?"
"HUH?!"
"You were born in the New World?" Marie started at Remy in surprise. She, Remy and Casanova each stood with a glass of vodka in their hands in a corner of the large state room. "And in former New France! You must have many exciting and dangerous tales to tell!"
"Oh, yes. My life's been quite a story," Remy smiled and pretended to sip his drink. "I tell you no place has such a rich, vibrant and distinct culture as the French Quarter of New Orleans."
"How quaint," Casanova covered a yawn. "I have been to the real Orleans. Along with Marseilles, Lyon and of course Paris."
"My, you certainly are well traveled," Marie commented.
"Oh, that is nothing," Casanova boasted. "I have visited Vienna, Rome, Prague, Genoa, Florence, Dresden, Cologne, London, Amsterdam. As a soldier I even served a brief period in Constantinople."
"I helped fight off an entire army the last time I was in Constantinople," Remy countered. "And been to more than a hundred other places around the globe. I've seen the temples of Egypt, survived the jungles of India and Mesoamerica, was nearly blown to pieces in Australia, toured royal palaces in China, Korea, Japan, Vietnam…"
"Oh my," Marie gazed at Remy in admiration. "That is incredible!"
"Yes, yes, that all sounds nice," Casanova waved dismissively. "I am sure such far, exotic places are quite thrilling, but like your simple New Orleans none of them are centers of true civilized culture."
"New Orleans is civilized," Remy bristled. "And boasts a unique fusion of culture that's a match for any other place on Earth!"
"Of course it does," Casanova drawled condescendingly. "For a backward, colonial outpost. I am sure its local cuisine choices, or lack of them, are quite unforgettable."
"You bet they are!" Remy snapped indicating some nearby plates of zakuski. "A single bowl of Cajun gumbo or jambalaya puts all this fancy stuff to shame!"
"Really?" Casanova took a drink while rolling his eyes.
"What is gumbo?" Marie asked in confusion.
"A rich, hearty blend of meat, rice, vegetables and spices," Remy beamed with pride. "A true culinary delight!"
"Ooo, it sounds wonderful and delicious," Marie licked her lips.
"Not as wonderful as this music," Casanova noticed her hungry look and quickly attempted to change the subject. "Such a pleasant allegro. I believe some of the musician's violas were crafted by the late Stradivari."
"Oh yes. I am quite the musical connoisseur," Marie smiled turning towards him. "The combinations of strings and harpsichord are so harmonious. Though sometimes I do enjoy a brisk adagio too."
"Uh, yeah. Sure," Remy blinked having no idea what they were talking about. "But if you all want to hear some real music, just let me get my hands on an accordion."
"My dear, you truly do appreciate the finer, sophisticated things in life," Casanova smiled enjoying Remy's irritated expression. "The only other acquaintances I know who equal your knowledge of literature, poetry and philosophy are Rousseau and Voltaire."
"You have met Rousseau and Voltaire?" Marie started at Casanova in awe.
"Met? Why I helped Voltaire finally get over his mourning of the late Marquise du Châtelet," Casanova preened. "Eleven years he had been grieving for her and I snapped him out of it in a day. As for Rousseau, we became quite well acquainted soon after I escaped from imprisonment in Venice."
"You were imprisoned?" Marie gasped. "How terrible! On what charge?"
"I could take a guess," Remy muttered.
"Oh, just some made-up accusations of being an affront to religion and common decently," Casanova waved. "Months I spent in solitary confinement in the Leads of the Doge's palace before finally making my escape!"
"How so?" Marie asked in rapt attention.
"By digging straight through the ceiling and roof, my dear," Casanova grinned cheekily. "Then I leapt across the sloping rooftops, pried open a dormer window and descended to the floor using a rope made of bedsheets. I then eventually made my way through the Doge's palace and deceived the final set of guards before casually strolling out the front door!"
"My word!" Marie marveled at Casanova's story. "What daring! What bravery!"
"What a snore-fest," Remy snorted. "I've had more trouble getting out of awkward dinners with my family."
"Oh, and I suppose you have evaded and humbled a great number of formidable, elaborate systems of security in the past?" Casanova challenged.
"You have no idea," Remy smirked. "And I made out a lot wealthier at the end of them too."
"How?" Marie inquired.
"Let's just say I'm good with my hands," Remy wiggled his eyebrows. "In more ways than one."
"One would think you could afford to take better care of such 'skilled' hands," Casanova mocked indicating Remy's fingerless gloves. "Perhaps they are not as useful at acquiring wealth as you claim."
"Oh really?" Remy held up an enameled gold and silver pocket watch. "How about now?"
"A lovely trinket, but…wait a second," Casanova gasped and quickly patted his clothes. "That is mine!"
"It is?" Marie blinked at Remy in surprise. "But how did you…?"
"Easy," Remy winked. "The hand is quicker than the eye!"
"Return my property at once, sir!" Casanova demanded.
"Hmmm, eighteen carat gold," Remy smirked examining the watch. "I gotta admit you have good taste. Hey, who's the femme painted on the inside?"
"None of your business!" Casanova made a grab for his watch.
"Ahhh!" Marie yelped as Casanova spilled his remaining vodka on her clothes. "My petticoat!"
"Oops!" Casanova gulped. "I am so sorry signorina. It was an accident!"
"Watch it, homme," Remy grinned at the faux pas. "You'd think a cultured, worldly man like you would be more vigilant with a lady."
"Here, allow me to make amends," Casanova took out a handkerchief.
"Thank you," Marie said as he began dabbing at her clothes.
"Okay, that's enough," Remy's smile quickly disappeared. "The lady is more than capable of cleaning the mess herself."
"Oh no, I insist," Casanova smiled as he continued to dab his handkerchief across Marie's upper chest. "It is the duty of the offender to take full responsibility for their actions."
"Really?" Remy raised an eyebrow before subtly bumping Marie's arm.
"Oh!" Marie gasped as she spilled her glass of vodka all over Remy's clothes. "I am so sorry! Please forgive me."
"Ah, it's no problem," Remy removed his trench coat revealing his form-fitting shirt and bare biceps. "Feel free to clean me up and take responsibility for your actions."
"Yes, my actions," Marie let out a soft moan while ogling Remy's exposed figure. Several nearby ladies were heard doing the same.
"There is no need for that," Casanova quickly moved to block Remy's body from Marie's sight. "I believe the signorina should retire and change into a less saturated outfit. I would of course be most happy to assist her."
"Over my dead body!" Remy hissed dangerously.
"Oh, there is no need for that," Marie waved. "It is only vodka. A brisk stroll through the Winter Garden should help everything dry out."
"An excellent idea," Casanova grinned offering her his arm. "Let us go."
"I'll come too!" Remy moved to Marie's other side. "I'll help keep you warm from the cold, windy outdoors."
"Do not be ridiculous. The Winter Garden is inside," Marie fanned herself while heading out. "Though I admit a cool breeze would feel pretty good about now. It seems to have gotten quite hot in here."
"It certainly has," Remy muttered as he and Casanova glared at each other while following Marie like a pair of puppies. Man, I bet none of the others are in a hotter situation than I'm in right now.
"Ahhh, get away from me!" Piotr gasped while laying back on the bed. "I am not that kind of man!"
"Shhh, just relax. There is nothing to fear," Praskovya purred lying on top of him. She had succeeded in removing all of Piotr's upper clothing and was eagerly working to remove the rest. "A strong, gorgeous man like you must be very experienced in this form of art."
"Not exactly," Piotr's entire head turned red.
"Don't tell me you are…?" Praskovya's eyes widened in shock and excitement. "Oh, I knew there was something special about you!"
"Gahhh! No! Help!" Piotr yelped as Praskovya continued to maul him.
"What is going on here?"
"Huh?" Piotr gulped at a regal-looking woman standing in the room's other doorway. She wore a similar though significantly more royal-like gown Countess Praskovya had been dressed in and also appeared to be about thirty-six years old. "Oh no. Uh, this is not what it looks like!"
"I believe it is exactly what it looks like," The woman's eyes flashed warningly. "Care to enlighten me, Praskovya?"
"Forgive me, your majesty, but I have not been able to fully evaluate him yet," Praskovya shrugged while struggling to remove Piotr's pants. "This one is proving to be most reluctant."
"Your m-majesty," Piotr gulped in horror.
"I see," The woman known as Czarina Catherine II ran her eyes over Piotr's half-naked form. "He appears to be quite promising."
"And how," Praskovya grinned rubbing her hands over Piotr's bare chest. "He certainly has the sensitivity of an artist. And his other artistic skills promise to be very good as well."
"Eh?" Piotr blinked feeling like a cornered, hunted animal.
"Well then," Czarina Catherine licked her lips and began to eagerly remove her clothes. "I guess I will have to find out just how good he is for myself."
"EH?!"
"Ah, that was refreshing!" Marie smiled as she exited the Winter Garden. "What a novelty to enjoy the scent of blooming flowers while gazing outside at snow."
"Yeah, real novel," Remy groaned as he and Casanova trailed after her.
"I am sorry your attempts at picking me a bouquet ended with a bunch of bleeding fingers," Marie said.
"It's okay," Remy winced which staunching the flow of blood from his hand. "I should have realized those rose stems were full of thorns."
"And the swelling around your eye seems to have gone down," Marie commented at Casanova. "What kind of garden includes an indoor beehive?"
"Well, they need some way of continually pollinating the flowers," Casanova groaned holding his snow-filled handkerchief to his face.
"Still, I thoroughly enjoyed the stroll and am sure you two feel the same," Marie smiled.
"Of course we did," Remy sighed as the trio approached the entrance of the large state room. "Okay, that's enough teasing. Let's lay our cards on the table."
"For once I agree with you," Casanova started at Marie intently. "My dear, who do you favor more? Me or him?"
"What do you mean?" Marie blinked at them in confusion. "I consider both of you good friends."
"Yes, but who do you consider to be your closer friend?" Remy pressed. "Your closer, intimate friend?"
"Yes, who?" Casanova echoed. "I demand to know!"
"Well, actually," Marie fidgeted. "The person who I find truly irresistible is…"
"Marie! Darling!"
"Huh?" Remy and Casanova turned to see a strong, stunning woman stride down the long hallway. She had long dark hair, wore a short, peach-colored dress, open black vest and appeared to be about twenty-two years old.
"Where have you been?" The woman asked coming up to them. "I have been looking everywhere for you!"
"Good to see you too, Yekaterina," Marie smiled as she and woman embraced and proceeded to give each other a very passionate kiss.
"HUH?!" Remy and Casanova looked like they were about to suffer simultaneous heart attacks.
"I was so worried," The woman Yekaterina said breathlessly after finally coming up for air. "I thought you had finally given up and gone back to Poland."
"How could you think that? I would never leave you," Marie smiled stroking Yekaterina's cheek. "I just wanted to get out, make contacts and work the halls of power a bit to learn how to accumulate some for myself."
"Quite a bold, ambitious move for a formerly shy girl," Yekaterina whispered in Marie's ear. "Perhaps I should confine you to my personal apartments from now on. I will be able to once I convince the czarina to appoint me colonel of the Imperial Guards."
"Now who is being ambitious?" Marie breathed before remembering they were not alone. "Speaking of contacts, let me introduce you to Chevalier Giacomo Casanova and Remy LeBeau."
"Charmed I'm sure," Yekaterina shot a brief scornful look at the two frozen, gaping men. "Come my dear. I have a special treat waiting just for you."
"I do not know, Yekaterina. I am not sure I am in the mood," Marie covered a yawn. "I may have to decline in favor of catching up on my sleep."
"What make you think you are going to get any sleep?" Yekaterina whispered in a deep, throaty voice.
"In that case, I shall have to change my decline to a recline," Marie smiled and eagerly led Yekaterina away. "Let's go!"
The two happy women quickly left leaving a stunned, slack-jawed Remy and Casanova in the hallway. "What…what the heck…?" Remy finally managed to get out.
"They were…and she was…but I was supposed to…." Casanova stuttered dazedly.
"I…I…" Remy shook his head and slowly turned to Casanova. "This never happened."
"Agreed. We shall never speak of this again," Casanova snapped out of his stupor and returned to the large state room. "Women! I will never understand them!"
"There you are, Gambit," Mastermind strode up to them. "I thought you'd be at the faro tables. Lomonosov just stepped out and I noticed the machine says it needs refueling again."
"It never happened…never happened," Remy blinked still somewhat numb. "It means nothing…it wasn't really her…I'm still me…we'll still end up together…"
"O-kay," Mastermind stared at Remy's odd behavior. "What the heck happened to you?"
"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Remy said quickly. "Where's Sabes?"
"At what passes for the palace bar, where else?" Mastermind jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "He got all the Italian opera singers drunk and now they're entertaining everyone with sloshed renditions from Il filosofo di campagna."
"Hey mates!" A beaming Pyro skipped up to them with his hair dripping wet. "Boy, this place is great!"
"That's a matter of opinion," Remy groaned taking in Pyro's appearance. "Let me guess. You found a fireplace, played with it, had somebody put out the flames and was tossed face-first out into the snow."
"Not exactly," Pyro corrected. "All the fireplaces around here are blocked up, but I did find a nice little furnace tucked away in the sauna."
"Sauna?" Mastermind blinked in surprise. "There's a sauna around here?"
"Oh yes. The palace banya are quite famous," Casanova interjected having gotten another glass of vodka. "They would be most pleasant if it were not the custom for so many men and women to take part in them at the same time."
"Well, I never really cared for saunas anyway…wait, what?" Remy froze at the news. "Men and women at the same time?"
"Indeed," Casanova sniffed taking a drink. "Imagine sitting completely uncovered with thirty other hot, sweaty men while each one of them pretends not to look at the others. How uncomfortable!"
"Really? I liked it," Pyro smiled. "It was great! All warm and steamy and fiery! I was the only bloke in there though. Just me, the flames and a dozen sauna-loving shelias in their twenties."
"A dozen?!" Remy gaped at him in shock.
"Now that sounds much better, sir," Casanova nodded in approval. "Well done!"
"Where did you say this sauna was?" Mastermind asked.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! SOMEBODY SAVE ME!" A disheveled Piotr ran past the doorway wearing only a look of sheer terror and his underwear.
"Come back here you big, sweet cuddle bear!" A very excited Catherine and Praskovya eagerly chased after him in their undergarments. "Show us how strong and skilled you are in the timeless art of love!"
"Huh, looks like her highness has found herself another lucky paramour," Casanova commented casually.
"She's not the only one about to get lucky," Mastermind blinked.
"If only I could same the same," Remy groaned.
"Hello again, gentlemen," Mikhail Lomonosov re-entered the room speaking in French while brushing snow off his coat. "Please forgive my absence. I just had to try and get away from the infernal wailing."
"Noi diciamo: così sia! Stiamo dunque in allegria, ché la cosa, minacciosa tosto in ben si muterà!" Sabertooth bellowed along with his drunken opera companions.
"I don't blame you," Mastermind winced at the noise. "I don't suppose standing outside is any quieter?"
"I am afraid not," Lomonosov shook his head. "Such bacchanalian revelry is driving everyone away. Last I saw them the Czarina and her companions were dashing down the Jordan staircase while the ladies Yekaterina Dashkova and Marie Dąbrowski were heading for the sauna."
"WHAT?!" Remy yelped.
"My, it is quite cold outside," Lomonosov shivered moving off. "Excuse me while I go warm myself by the stove."
"There's a stove here?" Pyro chirped following after him. "Wait for me, mate! I'll help warm us all up!"
"NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE YET!" Remy screamed running off. "NOT UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHERE THE SAUNA IS!"
"YAAAHHHHHH! DO NOT PUT YOUR HANDS THERE!" Piotr's panicked yelps were heard in the distance. "HELP! HELP…OW! NO BITING!"
"Oh, you are so cute!" Catherine's and Praskovya's giggles echoed throughout the palace. "It is about time we found a man with a body as hard as steel!"
"Wheeeeeeeee!" A pair of drunken Italian singers whooped while swinging from the chandeliers.
"E l'amore in ogni core con piacer trionferà!" Sabertooth sang at the top of his lungs.
"HAHAHAHAHA! YEAH! YEAH!" Pyro cackled as the temperature of the large state room suddenly raised dramatically.
"Watch it you flame-brained…aggghhh!" Mastermind shrieked as a rocket made of fire shot across the room and flew up the now unblocked fireplace.
"WHERE'S THE SAUNA? I GOTTA FIND THE SAUNA!" Remy howled.
"These bizarre strangers certainly are inspiring," Denis Fonvizin took out a pocket notebook and pencil and began writing furiously. "If this does not help me break into the exciting world of literary comedy, nothing will!"
Historical notes: Giacomo Girolamo Casanova was an Italian adventurer, author, diplomat, soldier, spy, gambler and con man. He is best known for his many complicated, elaborate and promiscuous love affairs with his last name becoming synonymous with the terms "womanizer" and "libertine". Casanova wrote over twenty works during his life and his autobiography and memoir "Histoire de ma vie" is often considered to be one of the most authentic sources of customs and standards involving European social life during the 18th century A.D.
Catherine Alexeievna Romanova, also known as Sophie Friederike Auguste, Catherine II and Catherine the Great, was the Empress of Russia from 1762 A.D. to 1796 A.D. and Russia's longest-ruling female leader. She oversaw a growing period of Russian political and cultural influence in Europe including major reforms to the Russian government and economy, the expansion of Russian territory into Poland, Ukraine and Crimea, encouraged Russian colonization of Alaska and was a leading figure and patron of the arts, literature and education during the Russian Enlightenment.
Yekaterina Vorontsova-Dashkova was a Russian princess and the closest female friend of Catherine the Great. She participated in Catherine's coup d'etat of the Russian throne and later traveled extensively throughout Britain and continental Europe. Dashkova was the first woman in the world to head a national academy of sciences being appointed Director of the Imperial Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1782 A.D. and helped found the Russian Academy serving as its first President in 1784 A.D.
