Disclaimer: Still not mine. *sigh* I don't own 'em.
This chapter is dedicated to my faithful Cajun translator and bestest friend in the multiverse, Amy/Wyn/Bun. She's on here, as Starlight...Wanna read her stories? Check out my favourite authors, she's on there.
-------o(O)o------
Now Siannagh had calmed herself down a little bit, she realised that she had no idea whatsoever as to where she was going. She didn't know anything of the area anymore; it was surprising how much it could change in such a short period of time, but with mutants constantly blowing things up on purpose or by accident, it was hardly surprising.
Besides, all she knew about Mystique was that she could change the shape of her body and her voice to anyone she wished. In that case, she could be anyone. At this thought she glanced suspiciously around the bar in which she sat, sipping at her fizzy apple.
"Hey sugar," someone hissed, and Siannagh jumped violently. She turned to see a pasty-faced man with a scar running down his cheek and filthy, well torn jeans. The whole effect was enhanced by the unwashed stained dress shirt that looked as though it should live in a zoo, not be put on someone to retain bodily heat. Siannagh sighed and stared into her drink. The man touched her shoulder, none too gently. "What, you ignorin' me?"
His voice was slurred as he spoke. She grimaced in disgust as he pulled her face up to look at him.
"Don' ignore me," he announced, with a scowl. "No one ignores Big Bill."
"Apart from me," she hissed, and stood up after draining the last of her drink. "Let go of me."
He did, but only because another man yanked his arm back from behind. 'Big Bill' spun around to be face to face with a younger man who looked undaunted by the tall man in front of him. Siannagh looked at him, and her gaze was met by a pair of dark sunglasses, unusual for a pub. The man, who was only a small bit shorter than Big Bill, was wearing dark untorn jeans, a bandana tied loosely around his neck and a black t-shirt under a large, well used brown trenchcoat. He appeared strange to Siannagh, yet something about him made all the peculiarity turn into a weird sort of familiarity that she couldn't understand.
With barely an effort, he pushed Big Bill a good distance away from them. The drunken man did not attempt to return, to Siannagh's relief.
"Are y' ok, chere?" her 'saviour' asked, stepping closer to her. His accent was obviously Cajun, from the way he pronounced his words.
Siannagh shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really, but I'll cope," she said.
"Y' wanna be careful," smiled the man. "Remy won' always be around t' protect y', chere."
Siannagh laughed sarcastically. She was not in the best mood, and she really didn't need arrogance, even if it was half-playful. She began to walk out of the pub.
Remy looked distinctly confused, but followed her anyway. "Wha'd Remy say?" he asked. She ignored him. "Woah, woah! Obviously, Remy wasn' makin' a good impression. Le' me try again. Can I buy y' a drink?"
"I'm sorry," she declined his offer, attempting to lose him by walking a little bit faster. "I'm busy."
"Anyt'in' Remy can help wit'?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head and keeping her eyes on the ground. "Not unless you know the shape shifting mutant who fathered my child."
Shit, she thought. Really sensible thing to say to a complete stranger.
To her surprise, though, he didn't bolt at this outburst. He reached for her arm and stopped her walking. Siannagh didn't resist, but quickly noticed a puddle of murky water that could come in handy should he attack her. Perhaps she could make it splash in his face, just to give her enough escaping time.
"I only know one metamorph, chere," he announced, letting go of her arm. "An' she's a femme."
"Are you serious?" she asked, looking up at him incredulously.
"Remy woul'n' lie t' y', chere," he promised with the slightest of smiles. Siannagh had somehow expected it to be night outside from the dank lighting of the pub, but now she looked around she realised it was almost certainly noon, and it was incredibly sunny. The man, Remy, followed her gaze but wasn't distracted. "Maybe Mystique knows who y' lookin' for."
"I should think she knows," she replied, scowling deeply. "Seeing as she is the psychotic bitch I'm looking for."
This received a well earned awkward silence as Remy considered what she had just said. Siannagh could almost see his thought process; mild confusion, shock, disgust and then gentle, bitter amusement. "Damn, dat girl gets more twisted e'ery day."
"You can say that again."
She began walking. Even if this man did know Mystique, she doubted he would take her there. However, he could not be shaken off so easily.
"Remy'll help y' find her," he said, walking to meet her brisk pace. She paused again. "If y' wan'."
"You honestly know where she is?"
"Well, no," he started, looking momentarily awkward. "Not exactly. But Remy seen her aroun', an' he think he knows where she migh' be."
"How?" she whispered, honestly intruigued. Why would a complete strange want to help her like this?
"We mutants tend t' stick toget'er," he smiled. With that, he lowered the sunglasses he wore. Siannagh gasped in surprise as she saw the reason why he hid his eyes. Red pupils on black eyeballs. So that's why he wanted to help; he had guessed she was a mutant too, presumably. "Lis'en, I t'ink you haven' mentioned y' name yet, chere."
"Siannagh," she whispered. Her voice seemed to have left her. "I'm also Aqua."
"Nice t' meet y' Aqua," he grinned, taking her hand and shaking it. "Remy's also known as Gambit. Now, le' me see where dis good for not'in' bitch is hiding."
This chapter is dedicated to my faithful Cajun translator and bestest friend in the multiverse, Amy/Wyn/Bun. She's on here, as Starlight...Wanna read her stories? Check out my favourite authors, she's on there.
-------o(O)o------
Now Siannagh had calmed herself down a little bit, she realised that she had no idea whatsoever as to where she was going. She didn't know anything of the area anymore; it was surprising how much it could change in such a short period of time, but with mutants constantly blowing things up on purpose or by accident, it was hardly surprising.
Besides, all she knew about Mystique was that she could change the shape of her body and her voice to anyone she wished. In that case, she could be anyone. At this thought she glanced suspiciously around the bar in which she sat, sipping at her fizzy apple.
"Hey sugar," someone hissed, and Siannagh jumped violently. She turned to see a pasty-faced man with a scar running down his cheek and filthy, well torn jeans. The whole effect was enhanced by the unwashed stained dress shirt that looked as though it should live in a zoo, not be put on someone to retain bodily heat. Siannagh sighed and stared into her drink. The man touched her shoulder, none too gently. "What, you ignorin' me?"
His voice was slurred as he spoke. She grimaced in disgust as he pulled her face up to look at him.
"Don' ignore me," he announced, with a scowl. "No one ignores Big Bill."
"Apart from me," she hissed, and stood up after draining the last of her drink. "Let go of me."
He did, but only because another man yanked his arm back from behind. 'Big Bill' spun around to be face to face with a younger man who looked undaunted by the tall man in front of him. Siannagh looked at him, and her gaze was met by a pair of dark sunglasses, unusual for a pub. The man, who was only a small bit shorter than Big Bill, was wearing dark untorn jeans, a bandana tied loosely around his neck and a black t-shirt under a large, well used brown trenchcoat. He appeared strange to Siannagh, yet something about him made all the peculiarity turn into a weird sort of familiarity that she couldn't understand.
With barely an effort, he pushed Big Bill a good distance away from them. The drunken man did not attempt to return, to Siannagh's relief.
"Are y' ok, chere?" her 'saviour' asked, stepping closer to her. His accent was obviously Cajun, from the way he pronounced his words.
Siannagh shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really, but I'll cope," she said.
"Y' wanna be careful," smiled the man. "Remy won' always be around t' protect y', chere."
Siannagh laughed sarcastically. She was not in the best mood, and she really didn't need arrogance, even if it was half-playful. She began to walk out of the pub.
Remy looked distinctly confused, but followed her anyway. "Wha'd Remy say?" he asked. She ignored him. "Woah, woah! Obviously, Remy wasn' makin' a good impression. Le' me try again. Can I buy y' a drink?"
"I'm sorry," she declined his offer, attempting to lose him by walking a little bit faster. "I'm busy."
"Anyt'in' Remy can help wit'?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head and keeping her eyes on the ground. "Not unless you know the shape shifting mutant who fathered my child."
Shit, she thought. Really sensible thing to say to a complete stranger.
To her surprise, though, he didn't bolt at this outburst. He reached for her arm and stopped her walking. Siannagh didn't resist, but quickly noticed a puddle of murky water that could come in handy should he attack her. Perhaps she could make it splash in his face, just to give her enough escaping time.
"I only know one metamorph, chere," he announced, letting go of her arm. "An' she's a femme."
"Are you serious?" she asked, looking up at him incredulously.
"Remy woul'n' lie t' y', chere," he promised with the slightest of smiles. Siannagh had somehow expected it to be night outside from the dank lighting of the pub, but now she looked around she realised it was almost certainly noon, and it was incredibly sunny. The man, Remy, followed her gaze but wasn't distracted. "Maybe Mystique knows who y' lookin' for."
"I should think she knows," she replied, scowling deeply. "Seeing as she is the psychotic bitch I'm looking for."
This received a well earned awkward silence as Remy considered what she had just said. Siannagh could almost see his thought process; mild confusion, shock, disgust and then gentle, bitter amusement. "Damn, dat girl gets more twisted e'ery day."
"You can say that again."
She began walking. Even if this man did know Mystique, she doubted he would take her there. However, he could not be shaken off so easily.
"Remy'll help y' find her," he said, walking to meet her brisk pace. She paused again. "If y' wan'."
"You honestly know where she is?"
"Well, no," he started, looking momentarily awkward. "Not exactly. But Remy seen her aroun', an' he think he knows where she migh' be."
"How?" she whispered, honestly intruigued. Why would a complete strange want to help her like this?
"We mutants tend t' stick toget'er," he smiled. With that, he lowered the sunglasses he wore. Siannagh gasped in surprise as she saw the reason why he hid his eyes. Red pupils on black eyeballs. So that's why he wanted to help; he had guessed she was a mutant too, presumably. "Lis'en, I t'ink you haven' mentioned y' name yet, chere."
"Siannagh," she whispered. Her voice seemed to have left her. "I'm also Aqua."
"Nice t' meet y' Aqua," he grinned, taking her hand and shaking it. "Remy's also known as Gambit. Now, le' me see where dis good for not'in' bitch is hiding."
