Chapter 3? I met this girl through camp named Caitlin Woods, who's from
Alabama, which is right next to Rogue's home state of Mississippi and she
sounds NOTHING like this, although on a trip she took to New Orleans (which
is like the equivalent of me going to Washington DC) she says that in the
French Quarter people really do have Gambit thick accents and that's saying
something. Just a random fact.k I'm done.
This story sounds less and less like New York, but hey humor me. I don't do well with criticism. Although I haven't received any on this story! YAY! You like me you really like me! ::does a little dance:: Just a note for this chapter: French has accents. I don't know how to make accents on the com. Also I take Spainish. I know next to no French. SO DON'T KILL ME!!! All right this time I'm REALLY done. Peace.
~~~
The res' of the day past in a whoosh of red an' green wrappin' paper, silver menorahs, an' loud Christmas music bein' sung not only by the recorded choir but also by passin' guests. Kurt could be heard beltin' songs out with the recordin' in his heavy German accent. After dinner we returned to the hotel and trudged up to the suite that Kurt, Bobby, Scott, Peter, an' Hank were all sharin'. We were laughin' an' havin' the time of our lives even Scott seemed to smell the holiday cheer an' lighten up.
Kitty sat crossed legged on the floor wrappin' that gift we bought at FAO Swartz. Kitty an' ah had returned to the Starbucks to now avail, no one had seen her wallet. Kurt was leanin' over the bed watchin' Kitty without much interest. He had to wear an image inducer against his will to avoid an.complications with the public.
"You know," he said leanin' towards Kitty, "Zat might not make it half
way agross ze country in time. I zent my gifts out veeks ago."
"But you live in Germany, Kurt, besides I'm sure the circus or whoever you sent them to got their ages ago!" argued Kitty puttin' a silver ribbon Kurt's nose.
Iceman, Cyclops, Colossus, an' Beast were playin' cards on the couch. Jean an' Storm were deep in conversation about some movie they had seen together. An' me? Ah'm not very social so ah sat on the large armchair near balcony door readin' the Shinin' by Steven King.
At around 11:15 Storm, Shadowcat, an' ah walked down the perfect hallway to our perfect room in the perfect plaza. Jean stayed an' later we found out she was sneakin' off with Scott.
Ororo yawned loudly as she put her black an' blue toothbrush to her teeth an' began usual nighttime exercises. Kitty chucked the oddly shaped horse package across the room its paper crumblin'. After a few goodnights everyone was fast asleep.
"You no good little thief!" At first ah thought it was part of my dream, "you fuckin' little law breaker I'm gonna kill you!" gun shots. Ah rolled over in bed. The others didn' hear it. Ah looked blearily at the shinin' red letters. 2:15. It passed, or so ah thought, "You goddamn thief!" that was when ah realized this coulda been happenin' right under my nose. Ah walked out onto the balcony, greeted by a nipping air that froze you in seconds. Ah saw a fatter man carryin' a shot gun callin' out into the night, a guy around Scott's age maybe a little younger seemed to be backin' away holdin' somethin' small out in his hands. "Gotcha!" shouted the fat man as the youth staggered backward throwin' somethin' up that drifted slowly to the pavement. His left arm grabbin' his right shoulder. Ah raced back into the room pullin' a pair of jeans on under my nightgown an' a pair of sneakers that ah doubted were mine.
Ah was on the pavement moments later. "I called the police," the older man was sayin' sweat trickin' down his ugly pink face. "They're coming to this spot." Then Ah acted totally on impolse. My right hand freed my left from its hot prison. "Stop Shootin'!" ah prayed he would listen to me. His response was another shot. "Fine," ah reached out my glove free hand collidin' with his raw pink cheek. He stood there for a few seconds before his rat like eyes rolled back into his skull. An' he hit the pavement.hard. Ah heard movement behind me an' wheeled around hand out. He caught it without lettin' me touch him. It was the other person ah had observed from my window. It was also the guy who had been sittin' outside FAO Swartz. His trench coat swung out in back of him like a cape, eyes still hidden behin' dark sunglasses despite the time. His right shoulder was covered in red blood that soaked the tan trench coat. Ah just stood there for a second. My han' caught in his grip my eyes on his handsome face.
Sirens.
New York is always alive, always busilin' but I knew these sirens were for the person clutchin' my wrist.
"They're comin'," ah said. His lip twitched slightly. He brought his longhaired head a bit closer to mine.
"Will you trus' me?" he asked, a deep heavily accented voice leavin' his lips. His feet were crunchin' the remains of plastic an' glass.
"What? No! How do ah know you ain't gonna hand me in you know what ah am-" ah broke off, he released my arm from his grip an' brought it up to his sunglasses. They came off catching the light makin' them flash slightly.
Two red irises starred back into my green ones, beneath them black replaced the usual white. He an' I shared one secret, these weren' human eyes. The crimson glittered, glowing a little in the near dark of Manhattan. "Will you trus' me?" he asked again, slower this time blood soakin' into his coat sleeve.
Ah nodded.
"Good," he said slowly. The sirens had gotten louder. But by the time turned the corner an' landed in front of the hotel we were gone. He was nearly carrin' me now. His trench coat flew out in back of him. His injured arm lay motionless at his side. We turned down into a subway station tearin' down the steps.
"Why are we-?" I began but he shushed me quickly.
"I'll 'xplain later," he said, sunglasses once again coverin' his card colored eyes.
The subway station we landed in was quiet the only thing ah heard were the late night New Yorkers and a subway that must have jus' passed.
He jumped down onto the tracks jus' missin' the deadly third rail. "Are you insane?" ah asked totally thunderstruck.
"Oui." He answered, wrappin' his hands around' my waist an' gently bringin' me down next to him. "Stick close, alrigh'."
We walked along the tracks a ways stayin' to the side. Down the tunnel ah first saw it. An old car had been abandoned to the side of the tracks. To my surprise, he walked over to one of the shut doors an' pried it open.
"What're you doin'?" ah asked a bit confused.
"Dis is 'ome chere." He answered pullin' himself into the oddly angled subway. He took my gloved hands an' helped me inside. It was dark in the car. He instructed me to sit in my seat an' watch my eyes while he started a fire. He bent down over the center of the car, cringin' slightly as he attempted to use his bad arm. He pulled somethin' paper like out of his huge trench coat pockets an' it began to glow with a deep bizarre wine colored light. He dropped it into what I now saw was a bunch of wood.
BANG!
There was a huge explosion, a few pieces of wood flew off banging' against the seats of the subway. But the wood that was left in the center was burnin' throwin' an orange red glow aroun' the car it felt almost like a security blanket.
"I really shoul' fin' a safer way to do dat," the stranger murmured replacin' what ah now saw were playin' cards to his pocket. The one he had dropped was probably blasted to pieces. He wandered slowly across the seats facin' mine tryin' to move his shoulder. His good hand had already removed his sunglasses an' was now workin' on the coat. Ah got to my feet walkin' across the car to help him. "T'anks," he muttered allowin' me to remove the stained coat.
"Who are you?" ah asked slowly, examinin' the small bullet hole in his coat.
"Remy," he said quietly, "Remy LeBou." He was wearin' a sleeveless white shirt underneath an' ah could see where the blood had been pourin'. "An' you chere?"
"Rogue." Ah said rippin' off a Nightgown sleeve to use as a bandage.
"Rogue?" he repeated.
"Marie," ah said wrappin' the bright crimson wound with the white silk. "I like dat," he smiled up at me from the bench, "'s beautiful."
"Call me it an' ah swear ah'll touch you!" ah said menacingly.
"Not necessarily a bad t'ing," he said half grinnin'.
"When its me it is," ah reminded him.
"Well t'ank you, Marie." He added smilin' slightly but only slightly 'cause of his arm. Our eyes met. For a second neither of us talked. I learned from Remy LeBou that eyes truly are the windows to the soul. Those red an' coal black pools seemed to show the inner depths of his emotions. They were so full of life. So full of truth. Ah wanted to lean in, to kiss him, to change the emotion ah saw reflected in his eyes of bright red. But ah couldn' so ah looked away. He seemed almost disappointed. Ah didn' even mind he called me by my human name.
"When did you get to this country," ah asked asumin' with a name like Remy an' an accent like that he was French or Canadian, although ah had detected a touch of Southern in it, thinkin' jus' that he must have been here for a long time.
"Dis country? Chere I was born in de US, I' Cajun, not French." He was laughin' but not cruelly, almost as if we shared a joke then.
"Oh, sorry." Ah said smilin' sheepishly. "So your from Louisiana?"
"Oui. NewOrleans." When he said New Orleans you could here both capital letters it was jus' one word. Ah had been there once when ah was small an' could now vividly remember similar accents.
"When'd you get to New York?" ah asked.
"A couple mont' ago, you?" he shot at me like a tennis ball.
"Ah'm from Mississippi. Ah live in Westchester now." Ah told him
"Why?" he asked.
"School." Ah answered casually, sittin' down next to him beginning to study the car. "Why do you live here?" ah asked. A metal stick sat in the far corner of the room glistening in the firelight like it too was burnin', a few cards scattered the ground like fallen leaves. A moth-eaten blanket slightly green with age sat next to Remy hangin' over the rail.
"When its'all you can afford." He told me a bit slowly an' quietly the nightgown sleeve aroun' his arm was growin' crimson and wet.
"That man," ah began changin' the subject, "he called you-"
"A t'ief" put in Remy, "yeah s'true. I dropped what I took dough when I got hit."
"But...but.that's against.the law." Ah stuttered ah was teachin' him somethin' he should definitely already know.
"De law?" he repeated grinnin' "never heard of it."
This story sounds less and less like New York, but hey humor me. I don't do well with criticism. Although I haven't received any on this story! YAY! You like me you really like me! ::does a little dance:: Just a note for this chapter: French has accents. I don't know how to make accents on the com. Also I take Spainish. I know next to no French. SO DON'T KILL ME!!! All right this time I'm REALLY done. Peace.
~~~
The res' of the day past in a whoosh of red an' green wrappin' paper, silver menorahs, an' loud Christmas music bein' sung not only by the recorded choir but also by passin' guests. Kurt could be heard beltin' songs out with the recordin' in his heavy German accent. After dinner we returned to the hotel and trudged up to the suite that Kurt, Bobby, Scott, Peter, an' Hank were all sharin'. We were laughin' an' havin' the time of our lives even Scott seemed to smell the holiday cheer an' lighten up.
Kitty sat crossed legged on the floor wrappin' that gift we bought at FAO Swartz. Kitty an' ah had returned to the Starbucks to now avail, no one had seen her wallet. Kurt was leanin' over the bed watchin' Kitty without much interest. He had to wear an image inducer against his will to avoid an.complications with the public.
"You know," he said leanin' towards Kitty, "Zat might not make it half
way agross ze country in time. I zent my gifts out veeks ago."
"But you live in Germany, Kurt, besides I'm sure the circus or whoever you sent them to got their ages ago!" argued Kitty puttin' a silver ribbon Kurt's nose.
Iceman, Cyclops, Colossus, an' Beast were playin' cards on the couch. Jean an' Storm were deep in conversation about some movie they had seen together. An' me? Ah'm not very social so ah sat on the large armchair near balcony door readin' the Shinin' by Steven King.
At around 11:15 Storm, Shadowcat, an' ah walked down the perfect hallway to our perfect room in the perfect plaza. Jean stayed an' later we found out she was sneakin' off with Scott.
Ororo yawned loudly as she put her black an' blue toothbrush to her teeth an' began usual nighttime exercises. Kitty chucked the oddly shaped horse package across the room its paper crumblin'. After a few goodnights everyone was fast asleep.
"You no good little thief!" At first ah thought it was part of my dream, "you fuckin' little law breaker I'm gonna kill you!" gun shots. Ah rolled over in bed. The others didn' hear it. Ah looked blearily at the shinin' red letters. 2:15. It passed, or so ah thought, "You goddamn thief!" that was when ah realized this coulda been happenin' right under my nose. Ah walked out onto the balcony, greeted by a nipping air that froze you in seconds. Ah saw a fatter man carryin' a shot gun callin' out into the night, a guy around Scott's age maybe a little younger seemed to be backin' away holdin' somethin' small out in his hands. "Gotcha!" shouted the fat man as the youth staggered backward throwin' somethin' up that drifted slowly to the pavement. His left arm grabbin' his right shoulder. Ah raced back into the room pullin' a pair of jeans on under my nightgown an' a pair of sneakers that ah doubted were mine.
Ah was on the pavement moments later. "I called the police," the older man was sayin' sweat trickin' down his ugly pink face. "They're coming to this spot." Then Ah acted totally on impolse. My right hand freed my left from its hot prison. "Stop Shootin'!" ah prayed he would listen to me. His response was another shot. "Fine," ah reached out my glove free hand collidin' with his raw pink cheek. He stood there for a few seconds before his rat like eyes rolled back into his skull. An' he hit the pavement.hard. Ah heard movement behind me an' wheeled around hand out. He caught it without lettin' me touch him. It was the other person ah had observed from my window. It was also the guy who had been sittin' outside FAO Swartz. His trench coat swung out in back of him like a cape, eyes still hidden behin' dark sunglasses despite the time. His right shoulder was covered in red blood that soaked the tan trench coat. Ah just stood there for a second. My han' caught in his grip my eyes on his handsome face.
Sirens.
New York is always alive, always busilin' but I knew these sirens were for the person clutchin' my wrist.
"They're comin'," ah said. His lip twitched slightly. He brought his longhaired head a bit closer to mine.
"Will you trus' me?" he asked, a deep heavily accented voice leavin' his lips. His feet were crunchin' the remains of plastic an' glass.
"What? No! How do ah know you ain't gonna hand me in you know what ah am-" ah broke off, he released my arm from his grip an' brought it up to his sunglasses. They came off catching the light makin' them flash slightly.
Two red irises starred back into my green ones, beneath them black replaced the usual white. He an' I shared one secret, these weren' human eyes. The crimson glittered, glowing a little in the near dark of Manhattan. "Will you trus' me?" he asked again, slower this time blood soakin' into his coat sleeve.
Ah nodded.
"Good," he said slowly. The sirens had gotten louder. But by the time turned the corner an' landed in front of the hotel we were gone. He was nearly carrin' me now. His trench coat flew out in back of him. His injured arm lay motionless at his side. We turned down into a subway station tearin' down the steps.
"Why are we-?" I began but he shushed me quickly.
"I'll 'xplain later," he said, sunglasses once again coverin' his card colored eyes.
The subway station we landed in was quiet the only thing ah heard were the late night New Yorkers and a subway that must have jus' passed.
He jumped down onto the tracks jus' missin' the deadly third rail. "Are you insane?" ah asked totally thunderstruck.
"Oui." He answered, wrappin' his hands around' my waist an' gently bringin' me down next to him. "Stick close, alrigh'."
We walked along the tracks a ways stayin' to the side. Down the tunnel ah first saw it. An old car had been abandoned to the side of the tracks. To my surprise, he walked over to one of the shut doors an' pried it open.
"What're you doin'?" ah asked a bit confused.
"Dis is 'ome chere." He answered pullin' himself into the oddly angled subway. He took my gloved hands an' helped me inside. It was dark in the car. He instructed me to sit in my seat an' watch my eyes while he started a fire. He bent down over the center of the car, cringin' slightly as he attempted to use his bad arm. He pulled somethin' paper like out of his huge trench coat pockets an' it began to glow with a deep bizarre wine colored light. He dropped it into what I now saw was a bunch of wood.
BANG!
There was a huge explosion, a few pieces of wood flew off banging' against the seats of the subway. But the wood that was left in the center was burnin' throwin' an orange red glow aroun' the car it felt almost like a security blanket.
"I really shoul' fin' a safer way to do dat," the stranger murmured replacin' what ah now saw were playin' cards to his pocket. The one he had dropped was probably blasted to pieces. He wandered slowly across the seats facin' mine tryin' to move his shoulder. His good hand had already removed his sunglasses an' was now workin' on the coat. Ah got to my feet walkin' across the car to help him. "T'anks," he muttered allowin' me to remove the stained coat.
"Who are you?" ah asked slowly, examinin' the small bullet hole in his coat.
"Remy," he said quietly, "Remy LeBou." He was wearin' a sleeveless white shirt underneath an' ah could see where the blood had been pourin'. "An' you chere?"
"Rogue." Ah said rippin' off a Nightgown sleeve to use as a bandage.
"Rogue?" he repeated.
"Marie," ah said wrappin' the bright crimson wound with the white silk. "I like dat," he smiled up at me from the bench, "'s beautiful."
"Call me it an' ah swear ah'll touch you!" ah said menacingly.
"Not necessarily a bad t'ing," he said half grinnin'.
"When its me it is," ah reminded him.
"Well t'ank you, Marie." He added smilin' slightly but only slightly 'cause of his arm. Our eyes met. For a second neither of us talked. I learned from Remy LeBou that eyes truly are the windows to the soul. Those red an' coal black pools seemed to show the inner depths of his emotions. They were so full of life. So full of truth. Ah wanted to lean in, to kiss him, to change the emotion ah saw reflected in his eyes of bright red. But ah couldn' so ah looked away. He seemed almost disappointed. Ah didn' even mind he called me by my human name.
"When did you get to this country," ah asked asumin' with a name like Remy an' an accent like that he was French or Canadian, although ah had detected a touch of Southern in it, thinkin' jus' that he must have been here for a long time.
"Dis country? Chere I was born in de US, I' Cajun, not French." He was laughin' but not cruelly, almost as if we shared a joke then.
"Oh, sorry." Ah said smilin' sheepishly. "So your from Louisiana?"
"Oui. NewOrleans." When he said New Orleans you could here both capital letters it was jus' one word. Ah had been there once when ah was small an' could now vividly remember similar accents.
"When'd you get to New York?" ah asked.
"A couple mont' ago, you?" he shot at me like a tennis ball.
"Ah'm from Mississippi. Ah live in Westchester now." Ah told him
"Why?" he asked.
"School." Ah answered casually, sittin' down next to him beginning to study the car. "Why do you live here?" ah asked. A metal stick sat in the far corner of the room glistening in the firelight like it too was burnin', a few cards scattered the ground like fallen leaves. A moth-eaten blanket slightly green with age sat next to Remy hangin' over the rail.
"When its'all you can afford." He told me a bit slowly an' quietly the nightgown sleeve aroun' his arm was growin' crimson and wet.
"That man," ah began changin' the subject, "he called you-"
"A t'ief" put in Remy, "yeah s'true. I dropped what I took dough when I got hit."
"But...but.that's against.the law." Ah stuttered ah was teachin' him somethin' he should definitely already know.
"De law?" he repeated grinnin' "never heard of it."
