Slowing to a stop at the club, they discovered there were absolutely no parking spaces left, much to Remy's annoyance. They had to leave the bike at a parking structure about a block away and walk back.

"We coulda just gone to a different club, ya know."

"Yeah, but dis one's de best..."

"Which is why the parking lot there was filled," Rogue laughed. "So now you have to leave your baby where it could be stolen or vandalized."

Remy stopped dead. He turned back to the bike, took off a small part, and pocketed it. "Now, let's see dem try to steal it."

"Ya gonna cover it in plastic wrap to protect it from scratches too?"

"It would be nice if dis bike lasted a bit longer dan t'ree days, if y' ask me," he added haughtily before walking ahead.

She laughed and caught up to him. "It's so cute when ya appreciate things the professor gives you," she whispered as she slipped her gloved hand into his.

"It's a nice bike. He went all out on dat one."

"Pro'bly asked Logan foh advice."

"Wouldn' be surprised. Dat man knows his motorcycles..." Remy was about to say more but a single white snowflake flew across his vision. Then two, and three, and soon a gentle snowfall had begun. Remy glanced back fleetingly to his poor, uncovered motorcycle, but Rogue pulled on his hand.

"Ain't this romantic? Walkin' through New York City at Christmas time... in the snow..." she sighed happily.

"Y' not usually dis... fluffy, chere." Remy's eyebrows knit with skepticism, but a smirk still played at the corners of his lips.

"You complainin', Swamp Rat?"

"...What's de answer dat will get me in de least amount o' trouble?"

She seemed to think about it for a split second. "Umm... just don't say anythin' as Ah do this." She proceeded to twirl around in the snow, almost like living out a scene in a movie. She tilted her head upwards to the falling snow, with her arms out at her side. She giggled slightly as she stopped. "Ah've always wanted ta do that."

"I can' say how corny y' jus' looked?"

"Ah think ya jus' did."

"Did not."

She put her hand up. "We're NOT doin' that again. We're startin' ta sound like the Brotherhood."

"How 'bout y' do it again an' I'll tell y' how beautiful an' free y' look."

She grinned. "A lil complimentin' never hurt anyone Ah guess."

"Not in my experience."

Rogue's lips twitched. "Ah'm sayin' nothin'. This is me sayin' nothin'."

Remy made a face at her. She laughed and tilted her head back again. Then her expression turned urgent. "Remy! Quick! Look!" She pointed eagerly at the sky and Remy followed her vision.

"Mon Dieu..."

"It's him!" And it was, for lack of better terms. It wasn't a bird, nor a plane, though one could say the former. It definitely wasn't Superman either. It was the angel. It flapped its mighty wings and soared toward the building they were standing in front of. And it was landing... in one of the windows? Rogue glanced at the sign above the doorway. "Worthington Tower?"

Remy snatched up her hand and immediately pulled her inside the building, completely disregarding the doorman's greeting. "Dat's our man."

"Any idea what floor the room he flew in is on?"

"It looked near de top. Can't tell much more dan dat."

"K. Let's start about two thirds of the way to the top an' work our way up then." She started toward the elevator. Remy grabbed her shoulder to stop her and she turned toward him with questioning eyes.

"I t'ink y're neglectin' one t'ing."

"What's that?"

"How we gonna know it's him?"

Rogue blinked, clearly not having thought that part through. "Um... Go door to door and ask whoever answer if they have wings?"

"Is the word subtle even in your vocabulary?"

She grinned and it so eerily appeared... Remy-like. "'Course it isn't, silly. C'mon, there's a lot of floors ta go to and people ta visit." Once again, she was ahead of him and waiting at the elevator impatiently. He shook his head, smirking to himself, and then jogged to catch up to her.



Three floors and approximately forty annoyed occupants later, Rogue and Remy had become very bored and frustrated. "Nice plan, chere."

"Quiet, Cajun. It ain't like Ah'm havin' a blast doin' this either."

"It was funny de first few times, dough. I liked pretendin' I was from room service an' all dat fun stuff."

"I think ya started pissin' 'em off when ya started samplin' the expensive mini-bars."

"Hey, if dey can afford t' stay here, dey can afford t' restock deir alcohol."

"How many drinks have ya had today alone?"

"Do I really have t' count?" He grinned impishly and knocked on the door in front of them. "Do we have a game plan f'r dis one?"

"Yes, try ta not get security called on us."

A red-headed woman answered the door with the chain in place. "Hello?" She looked wary.

"Hi. We're doing a survey," Rogue said politely, trying to look harmless.

"About what?"

"Posture. It will only take a moment of your time. All you have to do is stand sideways to us for a moment."

The woman looked at them for a moment, then sighed and unlatched the chain. "Fine." She stood sideways to them, and then turned back with a raised eyebrow. "Satisfied?"

"Yes, ma'am," Remy responded promptly with a grin.

Rogue smacked him up side the head before flashing a bright, but entirely fake smile to the woman. "Thanks."

The woman went back inside her apartment and shut the door without another word.

"Well, dat plan sucked."

"Fine, you think of a better one!"

"I will!" Remy stomped ahead to the next door, immediately knocking on it. Rogue stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for his strategy. "Y' know, y' don' look dat friendly when y' stand like dat."

"When ya tell me what you're plannin', Ah'll consider how Ah'm standin'."

"Maybe I jus' wan' wing dis one an' see what happens."

"Nice pun, Lance."

"Ohhhh, y' did not jus' say dat."

She smirked evilly. "Oh, but you're the one that punned."

"Not purposely, chere!"

"Wing it? C'mon!" She almost doubled over in laughter.

"Would y' keep it down? Y' gon' scare de person in de apartment."

Rogue looked to the door. "Don't ya think they would've answered already?"

"Maybe dey-" He was cut off as the door was opened... by a man with shoulder-length blond hair, in his twenties, wearing a colorful patchwork silk robe in shades of red, orange, and purple, open over frilly pink underwear and a bra. There was kinky music playing in the background and smoke drifted out.

Remy, for once, was speechless.

The man was not. "Hello." He gave Remy a once-over (obviously liking what he saw), smiled and licked his lips. "Would you like to come in?"

"Uh... I t'ink I got de wrong apartment," he stammered.

The man sighed, looking disappointed. "Oh. Too bad." He checked Remy out one last time and shut the door.

Rogue began giggling hysterically. "Was that yoah great plan, oh brilliant one?"

"Shut up."

Still smirking, she "zipped" her lips. "Now what?"

"Dere's always de blatant approach."

"So apparently we haven't been blunt enough? Now THAT's a surprise."

"Chere, I'm tired. I dunno 'bout y', but I wan' outta dis, right now. I say if de next door ain' de 'angel', we ditch dis place. Deal?"

Rogue thought about it for a moment and realized how tired and bored she really was. "Deal."

"Might as well check de penthouse den. Doesn' matter if we get kicked out after dat anyway."

Ten minutes later they were standing in front of the doors to the penthouse suite. Rogue grinned at him. "Want me to knock this time?"

Remy shuddered at the memory of the person who'd answered the last door he'd knocked on. "Please."

Rogue knocked. There was no answer. After a minute she knocked again. Finally a tall blond man answered the door barefoot, and wearing black pants and an unbuttoned white dress shirt with a black duster over both.

"Are you the angel of New York?" Rogue asked without preamble.

Instead of any of the responses they were expecting (ie: "Are you insane?" or "I'm calling security."), the man stumbled back, looking shocked and defensive. "Who are you people?!"

TBC...