It was nearly half-eleven in the evening as a black motorcycle skidded to a halt outside an all-night ice cream parlor - the roaring engine suddenly diminishing to nothing as the driver removed the key from the ebony machines ignition.
Rogue was the first to dismount, stretching her arms and taking a few steps to re-introduce normal sensation to her limbs, noting where they had stopped and looking over to Remy questioningly.
"Why ar' we heah?" She asked, feeling the cooler northern air hitting her numb limbs and shaking involuntarily.
"Felt like ice cream," He answered simply, with a mischievous smirk.
"At this tahme o' nahte?" She raised a quizzical brow, causing Remy to chuckle and start toward the entrance. Rogue followed him in, wrapping her arms about herself to keep out the chill. Thankfully, to Rogue's relief the inside of the parlor felt much warmer than outside and she picked out a window booth and sat down. Surprisingly, they were not the only ones stopping for an anomalous nighttime snack as various groups of people sat together or alone within the restaurant.
Rogue leaned back into the corner of the hard plastic seat, her eye lids drooping precariously as she struggled to keep herself awake by listening to the odd, monotonous elevator sounding music, being played throughout the parlor.
"Take it y're tired, hein?" She heard Remy say, focusing her eyes enough to see him sit across the table from her. She sighed softly and sat herself up groggily, making herself comfortable and looking at Remy to see him watching her with amusement.
"Ya cain't tell meh yah're not tired as well. . . we've crossed two states an' been drahvin since this mornin'" She replied, attempting to wake herself up more by blinking.
"Guess 'm used t' it" He flashed her a sly smirk as she raised a hand to smooth out her tied back hair. He couldn't help but watch her.
"What? B'cause o' ya 'job' or yoah extrah curriculah activities?" She quipped, smiling wryly to herself. Remy let out a laugh and shook his head lightly.
"Had dat one comin'" He admitted, at that moment the exchange being interrupted as a young waitress appeared, placing a huge bowl of ice cream in the center of the table along with some spoons and paper napkins - flashing a shy but sweet smile at the both of them before scurrying away again.
Rogue watched Remy with curiosity, noting that he didn't once look at the pretty waitress or even attempt to flirt shamelessly with her, like she had witnessed on many occasions before now. He had been acting out of character since they had left California, not obviously - but just certain habits and traits of his personality had seemed - altered.
She watched him as he picked up one of the purposely-crafted long stainless steel spoons and took a scoop from the top of the pile of different flavored ice-creams in the giant bowl - he didn't wince, which told her that his jaw must have healed some, though he had bothered to shave in the meantime after she had teased him mercilessly about growing a beard. He looked up at her and she gave a small smile.
"Y' want some?" He offered, taking another scoop. She rolled her eyes and picked up the last spoon, hovering it above the frozen food - deciding which color to taste first.
"Why'd ya buy a big bowl foh?" She asked, scooping out a mouthful and savoring the creamy strawberry flavor as it melted on her tongue.
"All-y'-can-eat special. Figur'd y'd do de typical fille t'ing . . y' kn'w, say y' don't wan' any but den end up eatin' most o' mine" He replied nonchalantly, taking another mouthful.
"Ah'm thaht obvious huh?" She replied with a sarcastic snort, taking a glance about her. Nothing much had changed, a few people had left and some new faces had appeared - turning her eyes back to the person opposite her, watching as he put another spoonful into his mouth.
"Ar' you okay?" She inquired seriously. Remy looked up at her, his brow knit quizzically at her unexpected question.
"Yeah. Why?" He replied, watching as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Ah dunno. Ya just been actin' . . . weird" She finished lamely, not quite knowing how to explain his behavior. Remy looked at her vacantly with an expression saying I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking about. She sighed exasperatedly and racked her brains for a way to elaborate her out-loud observation.
"You've ignored every woman ya've seen tahday" She reached an answer, looking at him for an explanation. He smirked at her accusation and prodded the slowly melting ice cream with his spoon. He had hoped that she would not notice his subdued mood, but apparently nothing escaped Rogue's observant eyes.
"Y' been watchin' m' chérie? 'M flatter'd" He retorted, studying her with amusement as her whole compassionate facade vanished in an instant and was replaced instantly with the rolling of her eyes and an incredulous look, directed at him.
"Ah take it back. Yah do still think yah're Gahd's gift ta women" She let known indifferently, taking a quick scoop of pistachio.
"Dat's harsh chére. Very harsh" He replied with a chuckle watching as she placed another spoonful and placed it into her mouth, noting as her features softened almost invisibly at the creamy taste.
"Ah'm only tellin' it as ah see it. Besides, yoah not exactly denying it!" She countered easily.
"Dat was below de belt," Remy warned with smirk, not sure where she was taking this.
"Ah'm jus' tryin' ta fahnd out moah about ya, seemin' as ya deflect every question about yoahself. Ah mean, ah've known ya foh a while an' ah only jus' realized ah don't actually know anythin' 'bout ya" She explained, taking a deep breath as she finished and falling into silence.
Remy contemplated what she had said, she was right - he never told anyone much about himself. It was something he had picked up over the years, if no one knows they can't use it against you or track you down. This particular habit seemed to be proving very useful in light of the possibility that Julien, or any of the New Orleans Assassins were after him. Putting down his spoon, he leaned back into his seat and looked directly at her.
"What do y' want t' know?" He voiced bluntly. He watched with some amusement as she stumbled a little at his uncharacteristic sudden invitation.
"Ah dunno, anythin'! Yoah favorite food? Movie? Song? Yoah childhood . . . " She watched him stare blankly at her, wondering what was ticking through his head at that very moment. If that was one thing she had learned about him, was that he had a formidable poker face - near enough impossible to read.
"An' what do I get in return fo' givin' y' dat information?" He returned impassively. Rogue shook her head softly in disbelief. She should have known he would revert to this, she was forgetting herself far too easily.
"Shit Remy! This ain't th' underworld or whatevah ya do as a 'thief' an' not everyone is tryin' ta kill ya!" She reasoned in a harsh whisper, sensitive to the fact that they were not alone. He didn't move an inch, swallowing her words with their full intensity.
"Well den I guess we're two o' a kind, non?" He stated more than questioned, earning him a fierce glare from across the table.
"An' how d' ya figure thaht?" She asked thornily. Their eyes now fixed in silent conflict, neither willing to surrender.
"Comin' fr'm a fille who appar'ntly dropped outa de sky an' den disappears t' go see a brot'er nobody knew 'bout, is kind o' a contradiction don't y' ti'nk?" Remy retorted in much the same manner. Rogue, not letting up her glare - looked on incredulously, narrowing her eyes - barely registering that Remy's eyes had diverted from her, over her head and shoulder.
"Don't ya dare bring mah brothah inta this . . " Her voice raised more at the mention of Kurt. Not receiving an answer from Remy, she felt like hitting the table to regain his attention like a spoiled toddler.
Remy narrowed his eyes curiously at the man, dressed completely in black sat on the other side of the restaurant - watching him and Rogue closely. Various possibilities ran through his mind - the man may have just heard them arguing and was one of those strange weirdo's that took odd pleasure in listening in on other peoples arguments and life drama's, but nobody else in the restaurant was paying any attention to them. The fact that the stranger was dressed completely in black and was apparently alone did nothing to qualm his suspicion either.
He noticed, the table in front of him was empty - perhaps he had only just had his order taken, but it was not busy and Remy had not seen him enter recently, meaning he must have been sat there for some time. Did he really want to stay and find out if this man was just a normal customer with a fetish for ice cream?
"Remy? . . . Are ya even listenin' ta meh? . . . Remy?" She urged him irritably. No, he didn't want to find out. Standing slowly, he casually walked over to the other side of the table, ignoring Rogue's cantankerous ranting.
"Shut-up Rogue" He said lowly, keeping a wary eye on his suspect.
"No, you shut-up!" She retorted defiantly, crossing her arms. His eyes switching instantly to her and leaning down slightly.
"Get up" He ordered, trying to act as inconspicuously as possible, looking pleadingly at her to just do as he said.
"Fuck you!" Her voice raised even more, though her words passed directly over his head as he glanced back over to the pending stranger and saw him standing up, a hand dug into the inside of his dark jacket. Instinct kicking in, Remy abruptly gripped Rogue's arm, pulling her in a bid for the exit. The suddenness of the action, making her nearly trip and struggle against his firm grip on her arm, though it was in vain as she soon found herself being drawn through the single door marked exit and out into the parking lot.
"What th' hell do ya think yoah doin'?" She demanded angrily, not stopping her resistance at being hauled around unwillingly. Remy turned about abruptly to tell her to 'shut-the-hell-up' but was rendered speechless as his eyes widened at something behind her.
"Now What?" She asked lividly, spinning herself about to whatever had caught his attention and seeing a well-built man walking briskly out of the ice cream parlor, towards them and aiming his arm at them. Rogue looked on in disbelief as he took aim and the sound of a quieted but-unmistakable shot, let out - she felt herself being dragged away, until finally realizing the reality of the situation and taking charge of herself.
Another shot sounded, missing them again as they reached the motorcycle and climbed on swiftly. Rogue gripped her arms tightly about Remy's waist as the engine began to move, closing her eyes as yet another shot was fired. She heard Remy swear loudly and the bike swerved to the side as they built-up speed and made their get-away.