Still to early...
Despite her protestations to the contrary, she never did remember her other pressing appointments and ended up eating doughnuts with a thief/serial killer, while he tried hacking into police databases with his laptop and cell modem to see if he could help her with her "identity crisis". He did find out that the military agency, S.H.I.E.L.D., had an all points bulletin out for one of their agents, a Carol Danvers, but she turned out to be a blond, a good ten years older and three inches taller than his chere. Carol had stared at that picture a longtime though, before she declared she was too tired for this anymore. That had been last night and even though it was 11:00 am now, judging by the number of times he had to knock on her door, she had slept in, again. Not that he was one to criticize, being a thief, he was naturally nocturnal. When the door was finally opened, her bleary, bloodshot eyes didn't look nocturnal, just sleep deprived. "Morning, chere. That jet lag hasn't caught up with you, yet?"
That's a stupid question. She didn't actually say that, wasn't quite
consciousness enough yet, just turned around and headed back into the room,
while rubbing her eyes. He was back. Why does he keep coming back, other
than to call me "chere" and bring doughnuts? Ha! He's a guy. Why do
you think he keeps coming back? Hmm...I don't know, that seems like a
lot of trouble to go through...
"Did you say something?"
"What? No..."
He was grinning, "You were talking to yourself? You do that a lot?"
he didn't even wait to be invited in, just waltzed through the door and sat
in the same chair as yesterday.
"It would seem so," she said that like it was the most natural occurrence
in the world and then yawned.
"I guess as long as you don't start arguing with yourself, you'll be okay."
That comment elicited a somewhat unladylike snort, "Just what I need, mental
health advice from a fugitive thief/serial killer with a doughnut fixation."
After she said that, she was thinking that she should probably be more polite
to the nice thief with the doughnuts. He did lend her ten bucks yesterday so
she could stay in this "charming" four star resort for another night.
Reduced to borrowing money from petty criminals...Are you sure he's "petty"?...I
really gotta get outta here...Maybe Paris...hmm...and you and your lipstick
will do what there? We can sell crepes at one of those sidewalk stands...
"Hello?" there was a waving hand in front of her face.
After blinking a couple of times she pushed the hand away, irritated that her
"guest" had realized that she had zoned out for a minute. At least
she hadn't started talking to herself again. "Stop that,"
He was laughing. She was irritated and he was laughing , "As I was saying
before, I threw in a few bagels today for variety, d'accord chere?"
She grumbled, "Enough with the French already. Ya sound like Pepe LePew
when ya talk like that,"
"Look whose calling who a skunk." She glared, but sub-consciously
tucked a streak of her white hair behind her ear. He continued, "And what's
wrong with my accent? I'm not making fun of yours,"
What was he talking about? I don't have an...Wait I just said "ya,"
five seconds ago, didn't I? Sighing resignedly, she sat down in the chair
across from to his. "I guess that can be the next lead. Missing people
from trailer parks," she opened the doughnut box, searching for something
chocolate.
He chuckled, "Hey, come on now. No need to pick on us Southerners. Besides,
it's not that bad. I couldn't hardly tell you had an accent last night. I think
it gets stronger when you're annoyed. Guess that means I'll have to make sure
I'm nice to you, right?" There was that smile again. He could get used
to seeing that.
The smile didn't last for very long, though. Still over the box, she picked
up a frosted cruller, but put it back down again. Slumping back in the chair,
she sighed again.
Trying to bring the smile back, "I got my computer here and I thought of
a couple more places I could check...." that didn't seem to be working.
In fact, it seemed to be having the opposite effect.
She noticed he had stopped talking and was looking confused. "Sorry,"
her strange gloves were sitting on the table and she started figdeting with
them while thinking about what to say. "Despite the french crack, I really
do want to thank you. You've been a lot of help, I guess I just don't..."
She was searching for words. Wasn't sure what she felt herself, let alone how
to express it to anyone else. "Well...I don't know what I'm trying to say...I
guess I am crazy, so that's to be expected," a wry smile.
She didn't seem to like this serious turn in the conversation, so he followed
her lead in taking it back to a lighter tone. "You're not crazy. You're
just not yourself today." He leaned in conspiratorially, "Honestly,
I think it's something in the water. Have you noticed, none of the people here
seem quite right?"
Her head flew back in a ridiculous laugh, "You mean how they all act like
criminals?"
"Exactly! You just need to get out of Madripoor, then you'll be fine,"
he gestured forward with one hand, solving all of her problems.
"Sounds like a good idea. I don't know what I'm doing here anyway. You're
"on the lam" and all, so-"
"Hey, the correct term is 'lying low.'"
"Sorry, how very un-PC of me," she conceded apologetically, "You're
"lying low," so you have to be here, but I got no reason for sticking
around." Still playing with the gloves, she looked up at the ceiling, as
if seeking divine answers from the light fixture. Yes, why are you still
here? Let's just leave, go with the Paris idea... Idlly curious and
anxious to stop her current train of thought, she asked, "How long does
one usually lie low' anyway?" Maybe if she really concentrated on
what he was saying, she would stop "talking" to herself.
"...depends really. On..." Okay, so far, she wasn't doing on great
job of concentrating, try harder.
"...how many people are looking for you...if they are people besides cops,
like the mob or something, then it gets trickier..." The concentrating
was starting to work. "Actually I probably don't have much to worry about.
It's been over a week now and I've been watching out," he nodded his head
towards the laptop, "I don't think anyone's looking for me."
"So you didn't get caught?"
He smirked, "Yes and no. No, I didn't get caught. I'm too good for that," he seemed just a bit mildly insulted, to which her reaction was to roll her eyes again. "But, I left behind my "calling" card," he then flicked a playing card out of his coat sleeve, like a street magician.
It looked like a normal card, a ten of spades, no name or anything on it, "I take it that's a trademark of yours? And do you always advertise where you've been?" that didn't seem too bright for a professional.
"Oui and Non, I only advertise when it's personal," Again with the French, but she didn't say anything this time, just a look. At her look, he tossed the card up into the air where it disappeared in a puff of pink smoke with just the smallest sound.
That was obviously what his power was. Looking the spot where the card had been, "That's mildly impressive. I assume you can make bigger explosions for safes and vaults and stuff."
"Oui. But I don't use my powers too much when I'm working. Too easy to trace back,"
"Unless you what them to know," she was thinking of his "calling card" again. It still didn't make a whole lot of sense to her, but it was still too early to think about it much.
"Oui," Still more French and he was grinning again.
She reached for the cruller again, "Now ya just trying to annoy me,"
Which he was, trying to bring out her accent again, "It wouldn't help to say you're beautiful when you're irritated, would it? And that I love your accent?"
Further glaring, "No it wouldn't." He laughed, and started shuffling some more cards that had magically appeared out of thin air. Shaking her head, she leaned back, and ran her spare hand through her hair. "Well, as long as you're not throwing any of those things at some innocent security guard-"
Looking insulted again, "I'm a thief, not an assassin. I only steal-"
"Alright, alright. I believe you," he looked slightly appeased. "I bet you only rob from the rich and give to the poor too, right?" she said as she licked some chocolate off her fingers.
Shrugging his shoulders, half distracted by her licking her fingertips, but he still managed to answer,"I gave a ten thousand dollar bearer bond to an ophanage once, so I give to the poor. But I always rob from the rich. They've got insurance to cover all their stuff."
Nodding in agreement, "That's true, and rich people have all the best stuff to steal," she couldn't resist pointing that out.
He nodded back, not looking at all ashamed, "Pretty much."
Well, at least he didn't seem to be a violent criminal. "So, this guy you have something personal against, are you sure he didn't report you?"
"I don't think he would have. Bring up too many questions to the cops about himself."
"But he could come after you himself?"
"Yeah. But he hasn't yet. So either he can't find me or didn't bother. I'm think I'm in the clear. So that means I don't have to stick around here any more, either," he reached over for a blueberry bagel. "Getting out of this place actually sounds like a pretty good idea. Wanna come with me?" He actually held his breath a little when he asked that question, completely unsure of how she'd respond and why on earth he'd asked it to begin with. He didn't want to leave her alone, of course...he didn't want to leave her, period. That couldn't be it...he barely knew her, why would he care...and why did he care so much what she was about to say? Her head jerked up just faction and then her face got that far away look.
The surprise at his question caused her concentration to lapse just a bit. What? No, I'm not going anywhere with some lowlife- "Sure. I got nothing better to do." And she smiled. He could really get used to seeing that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Only had time for short update this time. Work has been crazy and my sister's getting married in another state this week, neither situation is conducive to writing. But the next chapter should be longer. I think I spelled cruller right, spellcheck says I did, but it still looks funny. If it was wrong, crullers are those twisty looking doughnuts, that's what I was trying to write.
Ishandahalf-I'm glad that you forgive me.(After all, you've reviewed all of my chapters so far.) Rogue isn't exactly "Carol," there is still a lot of "Rogue." I don't think Carol wouldn't have stayed in Madripoor with Remy at all. She just would have taken her chances flying off. Rogue is the one that doesn't like to be alone.
Neurotic Temptress- The Rogue/Carol "tug of war" was something I always liked. But you may have noticed that there hasn't been much "war" recently. Carol has been playing awful nice...
4Rogue- I thought the gradually approach would be better here, especially with Rogue having her current mental problems. There will be more of Remy. Stupid movie that doesn't have Gambit in it....grumble, grumble.
Muccamukk()- A passive/aggressive world takeover? Hmm..take just might work! This where the supervillians have been going wrong all those years! I'm glad you find the story easy to follow, I'll try to keep it that way.
lori- Yes, it is a bit on the weird side, I like wierd. Hopefully, you still like the dialogue.
Dixiehnsnluver- Darn pesky computers. They're always doing something to cause trouble. My computer just ate all of my favorite fonts and I have to try and figure out how to get them back. But happy you like the story.