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Dinner was quiet for once, something for which Logan was willing to thank most anybody willing to take credit, although it was almost unnerving the way that the half-pint and the elf were just diligently eating and not surreptitiously throwing peas at each other. Something was definitely up there, but he tried not to stare. Whatever they were plotting would be found out sooner or later, and it was at least entertaining to watch them try and talk their way out of whatever they had done.

Rogue, sat next to him, never had been the most talkative of them, and now it was unusual for her to say even a word. Except when the Cajun was actually back for dinner, then they'd trade banter and insults back and forth until they were, usually by him, politely asked to shut their yaps. Now she was just looking at the empty chair across the table as if it might suddenly sprout a fully-grown thief, complete with trench coat. It would be kinda sweet to watch, if there wasn't the sense of nausea he automatically felt whenever subjected to teenage angst.

At the other end of the table, Chuck and 'Ro were talking quietly about something that sounded about as dull as a politician's dish water, and Evan was trying to perform some pretty bad sleight of hand as he tried to hide his carrots under a knife. Scott and Jean had stayed late at school to help out with some activity or other, meaning he got to have a meal without being subjected to watching them both look at each other, trying to look at if they weren't. There was that nausea again.

"Evan, you are fooling no one, eat the carrots, they are good for you."

Ororo was good, Logan had to admit with a grin quickly hidden behind his hand. Her tone was an even statement that expected to be obeyed; she hadn't even looked across from her conversation. The volume of her voice had just risen to an appropriate level, then her private chat had continued like she'd never spoken. Evan's scowl was about good enough to make a gargoyle proud. He had a sneaking sympathy for the kid, the only one with a relative there to keep tabs on him. Had to be a pain in the backside.

He tilted his head a touch as his ever-acute hearing told him the front door had just been quietly opened and as quietly shut. A casual glance around the table showed none of the others had noticed. That meant it could only be one person, else Chuck'd be looking a hell of a lot more alert. Probably saying things like 'To me, my X-Men' too.

Wolverine took an expansive sniff of the air, hidden behind a yawn that earned him an arched eyebrow from 'Ro and curiosity from the others.

"What? It's been a long day." His half growl had the desired effect, after a moment they went back to their preoccupations and ignored him.

Nicotine, of course - that ashtray smell was the base that held the rest of the scents he identified as being Gambit, the almost spicy scent of after-shave, the mustiness of the trench coat and threaded in there an almost sharp, acrid, scent he hadn't identified yet. Just like the scent of everyone else at the mansion, it was entirely unique, making finding him in a crowd about the easiest thing there was. And he really did like to keep an eye on him in a crowd.

The Professor might be ready to let a sleeping past lie with surprising speed, but he wasn't, not yet. There was no coppery tang of blood mixed with the scent and he relaxed. Xavier had never said why he allowed Remy the freedom to come and go that none of the other students received, but Logan could make a few educated guesses, Chuck wasn't even close to being stupid enough to let a resource go unused.

Still, if it wasn't injury, there must be another reason he heard the steps heading very definitely towards the stairs. And then he caught just the slightest hint of something sweet, heavy and bringing the scent of bruised roses with it. Perfume huh?

Hiding the scowl he could feel beginning to tighten his forehead, he stood and ambled out, picking up his jacket from where he had dropped it over the figurehead bust of some Greek looking woman and settling the hat that had been on top on his head. From the inside pocket he dug his cigars, and his Zippo.

No one looked twice; this was his evening ritual, nothing unusual about it. He would eat and then enjoy a peaceful smoke away from the house. It had been his custom since he'd first arrived and no amount of anti-smoking leaflets, however imaginatively placed, was going to change that. Although, the small pile that had fallen out of the package he'd had delivered from Madripoor had been a surprise; still hadn't figured out how they'd managed that. Out of respect, that had been the only night he'd waited until they were all in bed to have his cigar. Of course, he'd also made it clear in his mildest tone of voice that, if it ever happened again, he'd do something their grand children would regret.

He hadn't had a clue what, but they'd believed him just fine. It was possible that popping the claws had been overkill, but disclaimers should always be clear. Since then they'd gone back to taping the dangers of second hand smoke on his ceiling. Maybe that was what Kitty and Kurt were plotting, that wouldn't be so bad.

Outside the dining room, he put the cigar away and altered his course towards the stairs. His steps were a predator's; silent, sure, and he knew sending no reverberations through the floor. No one without his senses, or some other method to cheat, could hope know he was coming.

Gambit spun at the top of the stairs, fingers dropping an inch towards his pocket and the playing cards kept there, then recognising who it was and relaxing with a smirk. Wolverine noted with clinical interest that the thief's stance was still defensive, no matter how nonchalant he was attempting to appear. There was an impatient air about him, and it was clear he didn't know why he had been followed up. So, whatever it was that let him know people were coming, it didn't seem to let him know who that was or what they wanted. Interesting. Definitely not a spook then, he crossed that off the list of possibilities in his mind.

"Goin' t' have t' get y' a bell dere mon ami."

Logan shook his head and began to climb the stairs towards the increasingly wary looking Acadian.

"Nope, that'd take all the fun outta watchin' you jump Gumbo."

"Ah, y' an unpleasen' man m'sieur, anyone eve' tell y' dat?"

"One or two."

He could feel the beginnings of an amused smile and clamped down hard on it. Damn kid always did that, somehow made him calm down, made his suspicions lay for a while. Made him forget what the hell he was talking about it in the first place, most times. But not this time. Companionably, he draped an arm across the slightly taller young man's shoulders and began to force walk him away from the top of the stairs and along the top hall. There was a moment of resistance, and then his temporary abductee shook his head slightly as he was frog-marched away.

"If dis about dat box from Madripoor, I swearin' I didn' know what dey want th' picks fo'..."

"Not about the box" Logan grunted - as if he'd bare a grudge over something so petty. Well, only if it would be fun, and bearing a grudge against kids really wasn't fun.

"Right, what box? Knew not'in, wasn' dere. Uh ... "

Remy mentally ran through all the things he could think of that he could have done to earn the attention of a clearly annoyed Wolverine. Nothing serious came immediately to mind, nothing that deserved more than a dirty look anyway. Sure, he had been the silent partner in the anti-smoking campaign, but only because it took the heat from Kurt and Kitty's zeal off him. Otherwise, he'd spent a long, hard and incredibly boring week being the model of a good student. Mostly. If a couple of nights spent down at Harry's Bar were discounted, and that time he tripped and accidentally fell into the local town bank after dark. It wasn't like he'd taken anything ... and then there was that job Xavier had been laughingly hesitant to give him, still unsure of the abilities of his shiny new tool.

He would have chuckled at the memory of Xavier's expression of worried near distaste, but expected that could be a life threatening move given the suspiciously homicidal looking disposition of the man currently hauling him off to the outer reaches of the building. On only his second day as an honest citizen, the Professeur had called him into the office and shown the picture of a young woman he wanted followed. The woman he'd even vaguely recognised. Cute, but not beautiful the same way Belle had been, or Rogue. A smattering of freckles and laughing eyes, the picture looked about a year or two old. It was Mademoiselle Kirk, the high school administrator he'd met just the day before when he'd enrolled. Following her had been easy enough, although stalking wasn't really his speciality.

He'd tailed her at the lunch period as asked, phoned over the address of where she'd gone when he'd eventually followed her right back to Bayville again, and then skipped a lesson to spend a lunch period teasing Rogue. Good day by anyone's standards.

Then Xavier had gotten more confident and asked him to follow her into the building. What had looked like a normal city apartment block from the outside had actually turned out to be a gutted warehouse with surprisingly good security on the inside. That hadn't been a problem, the skylight's lock had been retrograde enough to make it his version of a revolving door, but he hadn't been able to get close enough to see exactly whom she was talking to, or what they were saying.

Today he'd installed a miniature recorder that should have picked the meeting up fine, and then gone back after school had got out to fetch it. Everything had been smooth as molasses, and he'd only been doing as he was told. Doing excellently as he was told, in fact, but it was sure enough that his little outings could be discounted. It had been suspiciously like working for truth and justice, which had taken all the fun out of it. If he knew of Remy's activities at all, Logan had a dour enough ethic to appreciate that.

So, Logan had either got him figured for something he hadn't actually done, which, well, he'd never been a big fan of irony but it had a definite fixation on him ... or it was something else.

He was abruptly released and took a moment to look around where they'd actually ended up. This was a part of the massive mansion he hadn't been to before, except for the pre-requisite tour he'd given himself when he'd first moved in. A storage area, he dimly recalled. One of several that held the dustsheet-covered furniture too old or too expensive to be put at risk with general use by high-schoolers.

You could probably hide a body here for ... years. And Logan was just looking at him, standing in the doorway and effectively barring escape unless he felt like taking a dive out of the fourth story window. Well, he'd just bear that in mind.

"Y' have m' undivided attention mon frere, what Remy done now?"

"What are your intentions towards the girl?"

Blunt question, blunt enough Gambit blinked behind his shades. There wasn't much point in asking which girl, so he just shrugged and leaned his shoulder casually against the wall.

"Y' her pere now? Protectin' her honour?"

"As far as you're concerned Gumbo, I'm her goddam shotgun waving army of relatives from the hills. Got me? You play with that girl and break her, and I'll make sure you don't ever play again."

Behind the tinted glasses, Logan could see the sudden red anger literally begin to blaze from the younger man's eyes. He stood straighter, not backing down even a little bit as the crimson continued to spill into the shadows of the room and give it a flickering light. A stare down match with someone he couldn't actually see the eyes of wasn't easy, but he fixed his glare where he imagined them to be and held it.

Second passed and slowly the glow began to die away as Gambit reigned back on his anger. At the back of his mind, Logan took not that it looked like that the eyes effect wasn't under control at all, just helpful to intimidate people not smart enough to know better than to get a guy who could kinetically charge their shorts angry. Like him. He racked that little bit of information along with the rest he'd managed to figure out about their other resident enigma. At least his excuse was amnesia, the Cajun, he suspected, was just being cagey. When he figured the kid had calmed enough to listen to anything he had to say, he went on.

"You stink of perfume LeBeau, and it ain't hers. She's been waiting all night for you to come home, and you've been letting her think you care if she does wait for you. If you don't, you tell her right now."

Through near gritted teeth, Remy at last replied, middle finger of his half gloved hand coming up to flip Logan off, co-incidentally, as he used it to lower his shades and allow his eyes to be seen. The red glow was still pronounced, and Wolverine already knew the thief to be an accomplished liar, but there definitely seemed to be a deeply resentful sincerity in their embers.

"The perfume jus' from a girl who decide she like Remy a lil mo' dan he like her, comprennez-vous? I not playin' none at all wit' Roguey. Not even a lil bit."

Logan finally looked away as the other man resettled his shades firmly over the devil's eyes.

"Okay kid, I believe you." He wasn't going to say sorry, that would be insulting to both of them. Instead he waited until Gambit began to brush past him out the door to speak again.

"But I still think you're gonna give her a world of hurt."

The tight smile in response was as bitter as he had expected it to be. Some people just shouldn't chase packs, they should stay ronin and live with it. Drop by sometimes, sure, but don't get attached, don't let them love you, and don't love them back. He knew that and it looked like the Cajun knew it too, even if that wasn't going to stop him.

Remy disappeared into his room, shutting the door and dropping the coat on the bed as he passed it on his way to the shower. It took half an hour, but he finally managed to remove all traces of Abigail's errant perfume from him. Anytime now, he figured, he'd be able to shake Logan's words too.

He made it down to the dining room in time for desert, taking his seat with a grin to those who called a greeting and a very slight nod to the Professor to let him know the job was done.

Then, he turned his attention to Rogue with a smile that she returned gently for just a moment. Then it hardened and round eight began.

"Y' didn' make dis, right? 'Cause my life insurance not cove' act of Mississipi Mud Rat."

"This from the guy ah caught flavourin' his ice cream with Cayenne pepper"

"Y' wound me ma chere, such terrible slander from such a pretty face…"

Outside on the porch, listening to the murmur of conversation and occasional laughter, Logan shook his head and smoked his last cigar.

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Notes
Sorry for the time lapse, I got hijacked by a Mutant X fic, and the ransom has only just been paid. ::coughs:: What? Stop looking at me like that! Mutant X isn't that bad!! ::hangs head:: All right, it really really is. But in a good way! Anyway, this is a slow start, but I promise actual plot real soon...