Disclaimer: I'm sorry to inform you that the disclaimer has become an extinct species. Sigh, it shows how much more we need to care for Stan Lee's environment.

Notes: Hi! Surprised to see another fic? Well, it's a one-shot for a change, with everything written only in dialogue format. Eileen Blazer thinks I should have an exercise in this area of writing, so if it's sucky, blame her! Kidding! I hope it's not too confusing. Rogue speaks first, then Remy. They just alternate. And I apologize for the accents – they're very confusing and hard to write. Eep. Enjoy, anyway. :)

Banter by melancholic

"Ah saw what ya did."

"Eh? What d'ya mean?"

"…shut up."

"D'ya mind explainin', cherie?"

"Jeez, can't ya follow any request besides those o' Dick, yar best pal? Ah told ya ta keep quiet, an' ya call me 'cherie' instead. What is yar problem!"

"Y're contradictin' y'self. I can't close my trap an' answer yar questions."

"Ya can be so funny."

"Attends (wait). We're arguin' an' ya t'ink I'm funny?"

"Yup."

"Merci, dat's helpful."

"Oh, fo' cryin' out loud! Why do ya keep doin' that?"

"What? Doin' what?"

"That. Bein' yaself. Ya know, actin' completely clueless an' lookin' ovah mah shoulder ta measure that lady bartender's cleavage with yar eyes."

"Mon Dieu, not again! I was––"

"Eureka! The problem's not just ya – it's yar eyes."

"What de hell, Rogue? Mon yeux (my eyes)?"

"That's the trouble with ya, LeBeau. Ya think everythin' sounds better in French, that Ah need ta hear ya translations, an' believin' Ah'm incapable o' understadin' ya! Oh, an' I just realized that yeah, ya do got sore eyes."

"…"

"Ya heard me. Sore, red eyes. Ah'm sure they make ya see the world like ya got a pair o' rose-tinted shades perched on ya nose. Well, Ah got news fo' ya, suh! Rose is a shade o' red, an' red means anger, blood, war…"

"…lingerie, wine, an' sex?"

"Argh! Why won't ya let me finish!"

"Why won't ya sit down, relax, an' tell me what's really botherin' ya."

"Oh, anothah one o' ya famous seduction tactics again? Don't even think o' tryin' me! Not now! …oh gosh, will ya please wipe that grin off yar face? Ah swear, if ya keep on smilin' like thatm ya'll have cavities an' they'll fall down 'cause o' punches!"

"Cavities and punches? What? Roguey, y're not makin' sense."

"Ah'm darn proud Ah'm makin' nonsense! It's a lot better than makin' love ta that lady bartender ya've been eyein' since we got here! God, that's abnormal – who hires females ta toss beer bottles around, anyway? Wait, Ah must've gotten the agenda wrong! Tonight, it might be that group o' cheerleader rejects there… unless ya moved onto straight men now."

"I see where dis be goin'."

"Oh, wow! Score fo' me! Ah got the Remy LeBeau ta see past a hole in a girl's pants!"

"Where? Oh no, don't give me dat look. Ya know I'm just playin'. C'mon. Don't do dis. Are ya drunk again?"

"Ah'm not! Drunk people aren't articulate!"

"Dat's one o' de many t'ings I love about ya. Ya can be drunk while sayin' whatever alchohol-induced t'oughts ya have like a sober fille (girl)."

"Hah! Ah suppose that's why ya never were successful in yar attempts ta bed me!"

"Ya don't t'ink I'm succeedin' maintenant (now)?"

"…bullshit, Ah'm leavin'. Ah don't need t' be choked by one o' yar stray condoms."

"Rogue…"

"What?"

"Let me just say dat ya jumpin' t' conclusions again. Sadly, alcohol doesn't change ya attitude. I was only lookin' at de counter t' signal t' Dee, de bartender who's my cousin, dat I'd like a few mo' shots o' somet'in' dat's not too strong, but enough t' get ya t' sleep wit' me. What I mean by dat is eit'er de normal kind, or de way I'd been wantin'. Takin' care o' ya is somet'in' I want t' do."

"Ah… ya're bluffin'! Where's the punchline? Do Ah get a free black eye, too?"

"Cherie, ya know I'd never hurt ya. Why can't ya accept dat I'm willin' t' change fo' de better? Don't ya got fait' in me? In us?"

"Uh… do ya mind givin' me a tissue? This is getting' too weepy an' sappy fo' me. An' get a camera, while ya're at it. We need ta capture this Kodak moment! Heck, we could even sell it ta Hallmark! We'd look pretty on a card, don't ya think?"

"All right."

"Remy? There's somethin' not right here. I go off an' become a bitch in need o' a lockjaw diagnosis, an' dat's all ya can say?"

"Oui. I should go now. Salut (bye). Wouldn't want t' keep de cheering squad rejects waitin'."

"Oh no, don't do this!"

"What should I do, then? Ya made what ya want perfectly clear."

"No, Ah haven't. Er… Ah've got an idea! Do me."

"…what?"

"You wanted somethin' ta do. Ah answered ya question."

"Oh… really? Ya mean it?"

"Yeah, I do. Ah'm sorry about mah outburst. Ah overreacted. Ya know me."

"Indeed. I guess I was too insensitive – ya're new at dis relationship t'ing, and I wanted t' take t'ings fast. I know how bad my past looks, an' desole (sorry) for bein' such a prick."

"No, it's mah fault!"

"Mine, Rogue. Will ya forgive me?"

"Only if ya forgive me first!"

"O' course, but ya didn't do anyt'in' wrong, hein?"

"Remy?"

"Oui?"

"Shut up."

"Dieu… don't tell me we're back t' dis!"

"Shut up… an' kiss me."

THE END!

Oh gosh, it feels great to actually type that... seeing as I haven't actually finished a fic yet... >. Review, please? I'll love you forever if you do!