"Remy, please come in and have a seat. Would you care for a smoke?" Charles Xavier smiled at the young man, new adult, that entered his office then waited for the door to shut. He turned his wheelchair around until he could face the young man, forcing his expression to remain cheerful. "Are you planning to smoke?"
"Non, Remy be fine for now. What you want to see Remy foh?" he asked, slumping into a chair and crossing his legs at the ankles. He yawned and stretched his arms until he could prop his head upon them.
Charles steepled his fingers together then spoke. "I'd like you to tutor a student in French, Remy. She's barely passing and the course is required for graduation at Ripley, though it doesn't have to be French she passes," he said, casting a brief glance around his office. It looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in a few days, though that was probably due to the large stack of papers piled on one side.
"What does this have to do wit' Remy, Professor? It seems de chile should simply take anot'er foreign language class, non?" he asked after listening for another moment. He waited a moment then smiled, making sure it was charming but with a conspirital wink. "The femme need some extra credit, Professor?"
"Remy Lebeau, this girl is underage. I expect you to teach her French and nothing more especially nothing that involves touch or anything else, understand?" There was no longer a friendly note to his voice but instead there was a note of wary distrust, shadowed by something that bordered on worry. "...this isn't your average student, Remy."
"Relax. How bad can one femme be?"
There was a knock at the door then Katherine entered, casting a quick glance at Remy. It matched the professor's expression except there was something like laughter present there, too. "This is your incredible French tutor, Charles?" she asked, softly without coming into the room more than a few steps.
"Remy speaks English and French, fluently, Katherine. He'll make an exceptional tutor for Angel, though he may need a lecture or two about appropraite behavior." Charles' attention slid his direction on the last words but any further rant was saved by another knock. "Come in, Angel."
Time to meet the femme that Remy will use to make chere jealous, Remy though, rising from his chair as the door was pushed completly open and his student entered. His eyes almost popped out at the sight of the teenager, though it wasn't with interest but more recognition.
"Hi, Rems," came her amused greeting from behind the blue smirk that represented her mouth. She held what looked like some sort of bag over one shoulder and hanging down on the left side, though it was overflowing with books and other such junk. The bag, itself boasted a giant pink A along with pink outline and several stripes on one side.
Remy took a breathe then returned his attention to the professor. "Somet'ing has come up, suddenly. De opening in Remy's schedule was suddenly filled, Professor," he said with an apologetic grin that said everything except that he was sorry.
Katherine shook her head. "It doesn't work that way, Remy. Besides, it seems you would be the obvious choice especially since you have a prior meeting with her," she said, smiling with the looks of one who knew too much. She adjusted her position then indicated one hand toward Angel then Remy. "I trust you remember Remy Lebeau, Angel?"
She nodded. "Yep. Who could ever forget the Cajun Charmer?" she asked with a sarcastic edge that reminded him of Rogue, though had it's own eerie quality.
"Pleasure to see you again, cherie," came the mumbled response before he slumped back into the chair and banged the heel of one hand against his forehead. He mumbled a bit more, though none of that mumbling seemed to be even close to English or any other known language.
Angel frowned. "You shouldn't talk Gibberish. Not everyone can speak it."
"Be quiet, cherie," Remy said, glaring at her. He fixed Xavier with a look that said he was already regretting his decision to help out with tutoring the students; his attention slid back toward Angel and he sighed. "Why are you flunking?" he asked on their way out of the room, closing the door on the tail end of his sentence and before her response.
"I think it's because I'm paid not to show up in classes in exchange for good grades except Nanaki figured out how the system works," she explained, digging through the zippered side of her bag. She pulled up a crumpled ball after a moment and tossed it to him then zipped the pocket back up, returning it's former pink stripe to view. "That's the note."
He skimmed it then shook his head. "Petite, you can't learn a foreign language if you never come to class or even at least attempt to participate in class. Who exactly paid you not to show up in French class, Angel?" he questioned, walking through the halls with her trailing behind him, humming, tunelessly.
"The teacher," came the distracted response.
I wonder if Remy will get paid extra money to teach the child to speak French. The money could come in handy with gaining Rogue's love and adoration.... He could put his happiness and sanity on hold, briefly to make sure the demon learned how to speak another language then return to trying to forget who she was.
I am not a demon, Remy!
Get out of my mind, Angel!
Sheesh, touchy subject.
He'd met Angel and several of the other Ripley students during his earlier time, before he'd gotten involved with the X-men and even before he'd known who Magneto and his fellow Acolytes were. Katherine, only slightly younger at that time than she was now, had approached him during a brief visit to the school on business for his father.
The woman had obviously mistaken him for someone and taken him into a classroom full to the brim with sixth graders. He'd thought it was all a joke at first until she'd walked out and left him with the children. That was when he met Angel. The little demon that had grown into the bigger demon that was following him down the hall, accompanied by her own tuneless whistling.
Remy remembered clearly that the children had lied to him several times throughout the two hours he'd been stuck there. Katherine had said these kids shouldn't be left alone even for a few minutes, though with his older looks he'd look more adult than his seventeen-some-odd-years at the time of the incident.
Angel had offered her assistance then given him improper information, lying about several different factors and even getting them a recess. It was his own fault for not knowing that sixth graders didn't get a Recess; how many people knew that just off the top of their head?
"Are you going to help me pass French, Rems?" she asked, jogging slightly to catch up with his much longer leg strides. By the time she caught up there was a ragged tone to her breathing and something similar to several coughing gasps. "Slow...do..down.."
"Oui, cherie. I'll try but even Remy isn't a miracle worker," he replied off-hand, missing her aggravated expression and the 'hmph' sound that accompanied it. He darted into the first empty classroom he came upon then yanked her into the room by one arm, earning another sound similar to hers from the hall before colliding with a table. "Sorry."
"No, you're not. How exactly do you plan to help me pass my foreign language, Rems?" she questioned after a moment, half-falling, half-tripping into a chair so that her bag fell onto the ground, spilling books and other junk onto the floor. She made no move to gather her things up once again.
"Remy has no idea yet. He'll figure it out after a few lessons... what's the hardest part of French?"
"The fact that I'm paid not to show up?" Angel offered with a shrug, removing a notebook from the jumbled pile then tossing the others back into her bag. She removed a pen and sat back as if waiting for him to explain the French language to her.
Would anyone miss her if I murdered her and buried the body in the back grounds of the institute? It would certainly solve several problems and also give Remy several different ways to get out of this tutoring session...
"Pay attention, Rems. I'd hate to tell Katherine you're not helping me," she sing-songed, grinning, "The only words I'm really sure how to say are faux amis and most of the family tree. I've gotten several things thrown at me for using too much French around the house, though that could be due to the fact that I learned...."
"Enough! Remy will teach you French as long as you repeat nothing about his previous history and also avoid public contact or even acknowledgement."
She saluted. "Yes, sir. Where should we start, Rems?"
"Do you know the difference between feminine and masculine terms or usages of words?" he asked, thinking back over the things his tutors and other relatives had taught him. He sighed when Angel just stared at him without saying anything; this was going to take some work. "Okay, we'll start with telling the difference between feminine and masculine terms..."
Smoke wafted around his head and the sound of something similar to heavy metal rock music pounded against his head. He shoved through the mass of jumping and screaming bodies only to get caught up inside antoher crowd that was also jumping around to the band that was doing more screaming than singing.
How did I get talked into this part of the deal? Logan wondered, shoving his way between a clutter of teenagers that barely acknowledged his prescence beyond brief smirks and chuckling sounds. He was planning to have a rather long, possibly painful talk with the kid about this stunt. Why would the kid want to hang out in a place like this? That Keller kid.
The sound of a faint, slightly familiar voice, greeted him further into the room, though it wasn't usually so giddy or friendly. There was almost a note of normality to her voice and it worried him. It worried him a lot.
"Rogue!" He called her name then waited, listening for any type of response, but he doubted that she heard it. It was almost impossible to hear within the club unless, of course, one had enhanced senses; the band had tuned into a louder song among the screaming, jumping fans. "ROGUE!"
That kid is never stepping foot outside the institute ever again. I'm going to make sure of that, if I have to stand outside her door myself.... Logan forced his way between what looked like about ten high school kids who were jumping and attempting to dance to the noise pollution that was flowing from the stage. He gritted his teeth and pushed through even further, scanning the crowd for the familiar slash of white hair among otherwise auburn colors. Stripes is never allowed to leave the manage again...at least not until she's in her thirties..
"Hey, look who found his way to the hottest spot in downtown Bayville," someone greeted from his left, amidst the giant cloud of smoke that swirled above their heads. The voice was infused with mocking laughter and an obvious dislike toward him. "You looking for the Rogue one?"
He turned and gave Jax a look that could have stopped someone's blood cold. The look and the cold edge in his eyes were lost on the snake mutant; Jax smirked and waved one hand.
"Come on. She's over there with Landon and a couple of other friends; it's not like we kidnapped her and forced into the place against her will, Logan," Jax chided with a couple clicking flicks of his tongue against his teeth. He started away, pushing and shoving his way through the throng of people that were taking over almost every avaliable inch of space. "Landon invited her and she chose to come. You're too much of a mother hen."
"Just show me where she is." The command held an underlying threat that still didn't affect Jax beyond a snickering hiss.
Their progress slowed upon reaching what looked like a winding set of stairs that were really nothing more than metal welded together into steps with a twisted metal beam, passing for a banister. He wondered for a moment if the makeshift staircase would hold the combination of his weight, Jax's weight, and the other people who were scurrying up or down the stairs.
"Relax. This thing can support way more people than you'd think..."
"Where's Rogue?"
Jax didn't answer immediately but continued up the stairs, speaking to several people they passed on their way down. Several of the faces looked familiar but that could have just been in his mind; he didn't think many of his students were stupid enough to come to a place like this.
"Your father's here, Rogue," Jax announced, approaching one of the upper balcony areas that was just as packed with people as the first level. It's only advantages were being higher up and further from the band that dominated the majority of the lower floor. "Tell him hi."
"I don't have a father, Jax, or if I do he's really late in getting involved in my life," came Rogue's response from the mass of bodies that had cluttered at almost the middle of the room. Every now and then, he could catch sight of a section of white hair but several of them turned out to be strangers who just happened to have white hair. "Cute joke, though."
"Stripes, get over here. NOW!"
Several people glanced over then returned to their dancing. There was an audible sigh from somewhere inside the newly formed mosh pit. It turned into a voice after a moment then directed a greeting toward him.
"Hi, Logan."
"Mind telling me what you're doing here?" Logan demanded, walking over to the cluttered group and straining to see the owner of the voice. He caught sight of Landon several times then Rogue but the two kept moving as though to move away from him, though Jax had vanished back into the crowd.
Rogue's reply barely made it to his ears. "Making friends. Didn't the Professor and Jean say ah was anti-social? Ah'm learnin' to have fun and get ta know people, Logan."
"It's just a club, Logan. We didn't kidnap her and drag her halfway to Mexico for voodoo rituals or anything. Chill, dude," Landon said, appearing through an opening with Rogue trailing behind. Their hands were connected by holding hands.
Rogue dropped his hand when Logan's gaze came to rest on their clasped hands.
"Let's go, Stripes," he commanded, starting away without even a glance toward the others gathered around or Landon. He turned back once to glare at her. "There's half a dozen folks running through Bayville looking for you, kid. If you live to turn eighteen, it'll be miracle..."
"How do ya know ah'm not already eighteen?" came Rogue's retort, accompanied with a smirk.
"Go ahead, Rogue. I'll see you later."
Landon's words jerked him to a halt, and he glowered in their direction. "Stripes, start outside. You know what my bike looks likes... go to it."
"Gimme a minute, Logan. Sorry, Landon. Ah didn't figure my watch dog would come this far," she apologized, speaking quietly but loud enough that the words could be heard by him. She kissed two of her fingers then placed them against the side of Landon's mouth. "Ah'll see ya later."
He smiled. "Later, Rogue."
"After you, sugah," Rogue said, gesturing in front of her toward the stairs. She adjusted her top, slightly so that it covered her stomache once again.
Logan took in her clothes, starting at the gray sheer shirt that covered her usual black tank top then down to the oversized black pants that could have fit a good half the institute kids into one pants leg. His expressions grew even more wary at the sight of her oversized combat boots, laced and tied together with what looked like a combination of black and gray laces.
"Whose fashion sense have you been stealing?" he asked, gripping the under part of her arm and all but yanking her down the stairs. He didn't release her even when she began to fum and fight against him, even when people began to stare at the two of them; he mumbled the first response he could come up with. "She's underage and my daughter."
"Ah I ain't ya daughter, Wolvie! Let go of me!" Rogue fought a moment longer until they reached outside then just glared at him. She crossed her arms and struck a defensive post that made him feel somewhat like he was the bad guy. "It's not lahke ah was killin' someone, Logan! Gawd, ah was just havin' fun with some friends!"
"Did it occur to you that people would worry if you vanished?" he demanded, glaring right back at her. "Xavier has half the institute looking for you. Do you have any idea how many people are worried about you?"
"Ah was with Landon. He ain't gonna let nuthin' happen to me! Why can't ya trust me, Logan?"
"You haven't earned trust and neither has he. What kind of trust worthy guy drags someone, a mutant at that, who can absorb people into a place like that with so many people? Does he not realize the risk being run? Do you not?"
"Landon wouldn't do anythang to hurt me!"
"I'll be the judge of that."
"Ya don't trust anyone! Why don't ya just become an anarchist or somethin'?" Rogue demanded, glaring at him. She didn't even flinch when he tossed a helmet her way but continued to glare.
"Put the damn thing on, Rogue. We're going."
She waited a few minutes longer then put the helmet on, fastening it under her chin. "Anarchist. How come ah could do stuff lahke this with Remy? He once worked for Magneto!"
"Shut up arguging and get on. I have the feeling that you're about to get a long talking to..."
"From you?" she demanded, getting onto the bike but glaring at his back the entire way. "Be still my beating heart." She faked a swoon and dramatic pose, falling back so that she almost fell off.
"Keep that up and I'll call your mother."
Rogue went silent. When she spoke next, her voice was quiet and sounded somewhat lost. "Ya wouldn't really call Mystique about somethin' lahke this wouldya, Logan?" she asked, opting for false innocence.
"Yeah, Stripes, I would."
"Darn Anarchist."
"Shut it, Stripes."
Random Line from Next Chapter:
"Don't you want a good-night kiss? You know you liked the last one..." He smirked and leaned against the door, watching her expressoin change from normal into anger. He moved out of the way just in time to avoid getting smacked again.
"I don't want a kiss from you or any other guy, Logan. LEAVE ME ALONE."
The door slammed in his face.
End of Random Line from Next Chapter
"Non, Remy be fine for now. What you want to see Remy foh?" he asked, slumping into a chair and crossing his legs at the ankles. He yawned and stretched his arms until he could prop his head upon them.
Charles steepled his fingers together then spoke. "I'd like you to tutor a student in French, Remy. She's barely passing and the course is required for graduation at Ripley, though it doesn't have to be French she passes," he said, casting a brief glance around his office. It looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in a few days, though that was probably due to the large stack of papers piled on one side.
"What does this have to do wit' Remy, Professor? It seems de chile should simply take anot'er foreign language class, non?" he asked after listening for another moment. He waited a moment then smiled, making sure it was charming but with a conspirital wink. "The femme need some extra credit, Professor?"
"Remy Lebeau, this girl is underage. I expect you to teach her French and nothing more especially nothing that involves touch or anything else, understand?" There was no longer a friendly note to his voice but instead there was a note of wary distrust, shadowed by something that bordered on worry. "...this isn't your average student, Remy."
"Relax. How bad can one femme be?"
There was a knock at the door then Katherine entered, casting a quick glance at Remy. It matched the professor's expression except there was something like laughter present there, too. "This is your incredible French tutor, Charles?" she asked, softly without coming into the room more than a few steps.
"Remy speaks English and French, fluently, Katherine. He'll make an exceptional tutor for Angel, though he may need a lecture or two about appropraite behavior." Charles' attention slid his direction on the last words but any further rant was saved by another knock. "Come in, Angel."
Time to meet the femme that Remy will use to make chere jealous, Remy though, rising from his chair as the door was pushed completly open and his student entered. His eyes almost popped out at the sight of the teenager, though it wasn't with interest but more recognition.
"Hi, Rems," came her amused greeting from behind the blue smirk that represented her mouth. She held what looked like some sort of bag over one shoulder and hanging down on the left side, though it was overflowing with books and other such junk. The bag, itself boasted a giant pink A along with pink outline and several stripes on one side.
Remy took a breathe then returned his attention to the professor. "Somet'ing has come up, suddenly. De opening in Remy's schedule was suddenly filled, Professor," he said with an apologetic grin that said everything except that he was sorry.
Katherine shook her head. "It doesn't work that way, Remy. Besides, it seems you would be the obvious choice especially since you have a prior meeting with her," she said, smiling with the looks of one who knew too much. She adjusted her position then indicated one hand toward Angel then Remy. "I trust you remember Remy Lebeau, Angel?"
She nodded. "Yep. Who could ever forget the Cajun Charmer?" she asked with a sarcastic edge that reminded him of Rogue, though had it's own eerie quality.
"Pleasure to see you again, cherie," came the mumbled response before he slumped back into the chair and banged the heel of one hand against his forehead. He mumbled a bit more, though none of that mumbling seemed to be even close to English or any other known language.
Angel frowned. "You shouldn't talk Gibberish. Not everyone can speak it."
"Be quiet, cherie," Remy said, glaring at her. He fixed Xavier with a look that said he was already regretting his decision to help out with tutoring the students; his attention slid back toward Angel and he sighed. "Why are you flunking?" he asked on their way out of the room, closing the door on the tail end of his sentence and before her response.
"I think it's because I'm paid not to show up in classes in exchange for good grades except Nanaki figured out how the system works," she explained, digging through the zippered side of her bag. She pulled up a crumpled ball after a moment and tossed it to him then zipped the pocket back up, returning it's former pink stripe to view. "That's the note."
He skimmed it then shook his head. "Petite, you can't learn a foreign language if you never come to class or even at least attempt to participate in class. Who exactly paid you not to show up in French class, Angel?" he questioned, walking through the halls with her trailing behind him, humming, tunelessly.
"The teacher," came the distracted response.
I wonder if Remy will get paid extra money to teach the child to speak French. The money could come in handy with gaining Rogue's love and adoration.... He could put his happiness and sanity on hold, briefly to make sure the demon learned how to speak another language then return to trying to forget who she was.
I am not a demon, Remy!
Get out of my mind, Angel!
Sheesh, touchy subject.
He'd met Angel and several of the other Ripley students during his earlier time, before he'd gotten involved with the X-men and even before he'd known who Magneto and his fellow Acolytes were. Katherine, only slightly younger at that time than she was now, had approached him during a brief visit to the school on business for his father.
The woman had obviously mistaken him for someone and taken him into a classroom full to the brim with sixth graders. He'd thought it was all a joke at first until she'd walked out and left him with the children. That was when he met Angel. The little demon that had grown into the bigger demon that was following him down the hall, accompanied by her own tuneless whistling.
Remy remembered clearly that the children had lied to him several times throughout the two hours he'd been stuck there. Katherine had said these kids shouldn't be left alone even for a few minutes, though with his older looks he'd look more adult than his seventeen-some-odd-years at the time of the incident.
Angel had offered her assistance then given him improper information, lying about several different factors and even getting them a recess. It was his own fault for not knowing that sixth graders didn't get a Recess; how many people knew that just off the top of their head?
"Are you going to help me pass French, Rems?" she asked, jogging slightly to catch up with his much longer leg strides. By the time she caught up there was a ragged tone to her breathing and something similar to several coughing gasps. "Slow...do..down.."
"Oui, cherie. I'll try but even Remy isn't a miracle worker," he replied off-hand, missing her aggravated expression and the 'hmph' sound that accompanied it. He darted into the first empty classroom he came upon then yanked her into the room by one arm, earning another sound similar to hers from the hall before colliding with a table. "Sorry."
"No, you're not. How exactly do you plan to help me pass my foreign language, Rems?" she questioned after a moment, half-falling, half-tripping into a chair so that her bag fell onto the ground, spilling books and other junk onto the floor. She made no move to gather her things up once again.
"Remy has no idea yet. He'll figure it out after a few lessons... what's the hardest part of French?"
"The fact that I'm paid not to show up?" Angel offered with a shrug, removing a notebook from the jumbled pile then tossing the others back into her bag. She removed a pen and sat back as if waiting for him to explain the French language to her.
Would anyone miss her if I murdered her and buried the body in the back grounds of the institute? It would certainly solve several problems and also give Remy several different ways to get out of this tutoring session...
"Pay attention, Rems. I'd hate to tell Katherine you're not helping me," she sing-songed, grinning, "The only words I'm really sure how to say are faux amis and most of the family tree. I've gotten several things thrown at me for using too much French around the house, though that could be due to the fact that I learned...."
"Enough! Remy will teach you French as long as you repeat nothing about his previous history and also avoid public contact or even acknowledgement."
She saluted. "Yes, sir. Where should we start, Rems?"
"Do you know the difference between feminine and masculine terms or usages of words?" he asked, thinking back over the things his tutors and other relatives had taught him. He sighed when Angel just stared at him without saying anything; this was going to take some work. "Okay, we'll start with telling the difference between feminine and masculine terms..."
Smoke wafted around his head and the sound of something similar to heavy metal rock music pounded against his head. He shoved through the mass of jumping and screaming bodies only to get caught up inside antoher crowd that was also jumping around to the band that was doing more screaming than singing.
How did I get talked into this part of the deal? Logan wondered, shoving his way between a clutter of teenagers that barely acknowledged his prescence beyond brief smirks and chuckling sounds. He was planning to have a rather long, possibly painful talk with the kid about this stunt. Why would the kid want to hang out in a place like this? That Keller kid.
The sound of a faint, slightly familiar voice, greeted him further into the room, though it wasn't usually so giddy or friendly. There was almost a note of normality to her voice and it worried him. It worried him a lot.
"Rogue!" He called her name then waited, listening for any type of response, but he doubted that she heard it. It was almost impossible to hear within the club unless, of course, one had enhanced senses; the band had tuned into a louder song among the screaming, jumping fans. "ROGUE!"
That kid is never stepping foot outside the institute ever again. I'm going to make sure of that, if I have to stand outside her door myself.... Logan forced his way between what looked like about ten high school kids who were jumping and attempting to dance to the noise pollution that was flowing from the stage. He gritted his teeth and pushed through even further, scanning the crowd for the familiar slash of white hair among otherwise auburn colors. Stripes is never allowed to leave the manage again...at least not until she's in her thirties..
"Hey, look who found his way to the hottest spot in downtown Bayville," someone greeted from his left, amidst the giant cloud of smoke that swirled above their heads. The voice was infused with mocking laughter and an obvious dislike toward him. "You looking for the Rogue one?"
He turned and gave Jax a look that could have stopped someone's blood cold. The look and the cold edge in his eyes were lost on the snake mutant; Jax smirked and waved one hand.
"Come on. She's over there with Landon and a couple of other friends; it's not like we kidnapped her and forced into the place against her will, Logan," Jax chided with a couple clicking flicks of his tongue against his teeth. He started away, pushing and shoving his way through the throng of people that were taking over almost every avaliable inch of space. "Landon invited her and she chose to come. You're too much of a mother hen."
"Just show me where she is." The command held an underlying threat that still didn't affect Jax beyond a snickering hiss.
Their progress slowed upon reaching what looked like a winding set of stairs that were really nothing more than metal welded together into steps with a twisted metal beam, passing for a banister. He wondered for a moment if the makeshift staircase would hold the combination of his weight, Jax's weight, and the other people who were scurrying up or down the stairs.
"Relax. This thing can support way more people than you'd think..."
"Where's Rogue?"
Jax didn't answer immediately but continued up the stairs, speaking to several people they passed on their way down. Several of the faces looked familiar but that could have just been in his mind; he didn't think many of his students were stupid enough to come to a place like this.
"Your father's here, Rogue," Jax announced, approaching one of the upper balcony areas that was just as packed with people as the first level. It's only advantages were being higher up and further from the band that dominated the majority of the lower floor. "Tell him hi."
"I don't have a father, Jax, or if I do he's really late in getting involved in my life," came Rogue's response from the mass of bodies that had cluttered at almost the middle of the room. Every now and then, he could catch sight of a section of white hair but several of them turned out to be strangers who just happened to have white hair. "Cute joke, though."
"Stripes, get over here. NOW!"
Several people glanced over then returned to their dancing. There was an audible sigh from somewhere inside the newly formed mosh pit. It turned into a voice after a moment then directed a greeting toward him.
"Hi, Logan."
"Mind telling me what you're doing here?" Logan demanded, walking over to the cluttered group and straining to see the owner of the voice. He caught sight of Landon several times then Rogue but the two kept moving as though to move away from him, though Jax had vanished back into the crowd.
Rogue's reply barely made it to his ears. "Making friends. Didn't the Professor and Jean say ah was anti-social? Ah'm learnin' to have fun and get ta know people, Logan."
"It's just a club, Logan. We didn't kidnap her and drag her halfway to Mexico for voodoo rituals or anything. Chill, dude," Landon said, appearing through an opening with Rogue trailing behind. Their hands were connected by holding hands.
Rogue dropped his hand when Logan's gaze came to rest on their clasped hands.
"Let's go, Stripes," he commanded, starting away without even a glance toward the others gathered around or Landon. He turned back once to glare at her. "There's half a dozen folks running through Bayville looking for you, kid. If you live to turn eighteen, it'll be miracle..."
"How do ya know ah'm not already eighteen?" came Rogue's retort, accompanied with a smirk.
"Go ahead, Rogue. I'll see you later."
Landon's words jerked him to a halt, and he glowered in their direction. "Stripes, start outside. You know what my bike looks likes... go to it."
"Gimme a minute, Logan. Sorry, Landon. Ah didn't figure my watch dog would come this far," she apologized, speaking quietly but loud enough that the words could be heard by him. She kissed two of her fingers then placed them against the side of Landon's mouth. "Ah'll see ya later."
He smiled. "Later, Rogue."
"After you, sugah," Rogue said, gesturing in front of her toward the stairs. She adjusted her top, slightly so that it covered her stomache once again.
Logan took in her clothes, starting at the gray sheer shirt that covered her usual black tank top then down to the oversized black pants that could have fit a good half the institute kids into one pants leg. His expressions grew even more wary at the sight of her oversized combat boots, laced and tied together with what looked like a combination of black and gray laces.
"Whose fashion sense have you been stealing?" he asked, gripping the under part of her arm and all but yanking her down the stairs. He didn't release her even when she began to fum and fight against him, even when people began to stare at the two of them; he mumbled the first response he could come up with. "She's underage and my daughter."
"Ah I ain't ya daughter, Wolvie! Let go of me!" Rogue fought a moment longer until they reached outside then just glared at him. She crossed her arms and struck a defensive post that made him feel somewhat like he was the bad guy. "It's not lahke ah was killin' someone, Logan! Gawd, ah was just havin' fun with some friends!"
"Did it occur to you that people would worry if you vanished?" he demanded, glaring right back at her. "Xavier has half the institute looking for you. Do you have any idea how many people are worried about you?"
"Ah was with Landon. He ain't gonna let nuthin' happen to me! Why can't ya trust me, Logan?"
"You haven't earned trust and neither has he. What kind of trust worthy guy drags someone, a mutant at that, who can absorb people into a place like that with so many people? Does he not realize the risk being run? Do you not?"
"Landon wouldn't do anythang to hurt me!"
"I'll be the judge of that."
"Ya don't trust anyone! Why don't ya just become an anarchist or somethin'?" Rogue demanded, glaring at him. She didn't even flinch when he tossed a helmet her way but continued to glare.
"Put the damn thing on, Rogue. We're going."
She waited a few minutes longer then put the helmet on, fastening it under her chin. "Anarchist. How come ah could do stuff lahke this with Remy? He once worked for Magneto!"
"Shut up arguging and get on. I have the feeling that you're about to get a long talking to..."
"From you?" she demanded, getting onto the bike but glaring at his back the entire way. "Be still my beating heart." She faked a swoon and dramatic pose, falling back so that she almost fell off.
"Keep that up and I'll call your mother."
Rogue went silent. When she spoke next, her voice was quiet and sounded somewhat lost. "Ya wouldn't really call Mystique about somethin' lahke this wouldya, Logan?" she asked, opting for false innocence.
"Yeah, Stripes, I would."
"Darn Anarchist."
"Shut it, Stripes."
Random Line from Next Chapter:
"Don't you want a good-night kiss? You know you liked the last one..." He smirked and leaned against the door, watching her expressoin change from normal into anger. He moved out of the way just in time to avoid getting smacked again.
"I don't want a kiss from you or any other guy, Logan. LEAVE ME ALONE."
The door slammed in his face.
End of Random Line from Next Chapter