Um Rogue just found out her 'lover' lost control of his powers (after taking years to conquer them) for unknown reasons and committed multiple homicide, even if accidentally - don't you think she might be just a tad freaked out?

Thanks to all my readers! Amyln, Forever-Dawn (yay!), lovestoread, Remy'sRose (woah, you're right!), X-Storm, rogue, BladeMaxwell-GoddessofDeath, roguerulez (me too), Captain Annie (cool!), SouthernLoner, allyg1990 (aw...), nuriiko (That admittal will be awhile.), New Moon Night (-blush-)

Coldqueen – "I love that even as their relationship is so adversarial they still can't resist comforting each other." (oh I know - that's the real test of a relationship - and true proof of the depth of caring. Also, Rogue's p.o.v. will be coming in bits and pieces for awhile)

Also, someone questioned the practice with Bobby. Kitty mentioned that to get a reaction from Remy - not that it isn't true that Bobby asked, but did Rogue agree? (-author walks away, humming evilly-)

Most fitting quote: wiccamage - "Seems like Gambit's finally getting a real look at what his cards hold for him."

Runner-up: Ishandahalf – "not only are rogue and remy apparently addicted to each other, they both seem to be sort of gambling on what the other's feelings are towards them." (Oh yeah!)

Now here is the interlude – with a hearty dose of the point of views of Kitty and Piotr, a splash of Tabby, a pinch of certain adults, and of course, Remy and Rogue. The song featured is "Mr. Brightside" by Killers.

It Takes Two...to Practice

15) Interlude: Date with an Angel

They were an odd pair: the Russian giant and the Cajun thief. Circumstances had forced their acquaintance – Gambit managed to avoid Sabertooth at every possible turn, for reasons unknown to Piotr, and Pyro…

Privately, Piotr had a suspicion the development of his mutation had manipulated something in John's brain, making him more than a bit off-kilter. His attempt at flaming pancakes still made Piotr shudder.

Piotr, given the options, had stayed to himself mostly, studying, working on his English, and occasionally trying to assuage his homesickness by pouring into his sketchbook. However, in the third week of his residence at Magneto's base, he'd found Gambit playing cards in his room. Piotr hadn't bothered asking how he'd gotten in; it was all he could do to restrain himself from checking if anything had been disturbed. He'd expected the man to probe him with questions, but Gambit had stayed uncharacteristically quiet, playing his cards while Piotr buried his head in a book.

It had become a tradition between them – Gambit popping into Piotr's room sporadically, quietly flipping cards while Piotr continued whatever he was doing. Piotr figured the outgoing man simply wanted some non-crazy company. It was another week before the silent company became quiet, tentative conversations. Two weeks after that, Gambit had coaxed Piotr into going to a bar and finally asked him the question,reclining back in his chair, lazily flicking the ash off his cigarette, his eyes glowing in the semi-darkness.

"Y' a good homme Piotr. So what's a guy like yah doin' wit' Magneto?"

Piotr still didn't know why he'd actually told him; perhaps just the fact he'd simply needed a friend. And somehow the whole story of Illya's disappearance, Magneto's involvement, and his unwilling agreement came out. Then he'd asked the question back. Gambit had shrugged, his eyes suddenly shadowed.

"Got a contract." He snubbed his cigarette. "But ain't no need f' y' tah call mehGambit, dat be de workin' name. Call me Remy."

And in his edged grin, Piotr had seen a man just as in need of a friend.

Their tradition continued at the X-mansion. Piotr felt welcome himself, but he was aware of the suspicion Remy was viewed with – and he made sure to always lock his door, a rather unusual invitation but one Remy would understand.

And so it came to be that day.

It had been a while – for some reason, Remy had been preoccupied for the past few weeks, too restless to calmly seat himself on Piotr's floor. Piotr had been getting concerned; everytime he'd seen him lately Remy had been tense (Piotr had learned to read it in the set of his shoulders) and upset (his sarcasm always became more venomous then). But he was patient and he would not press; Remy simply would not give information he did not volunteer.

Remy shuffled his cards again, setting up for a Solitaire game. Piotr had long-ago realized the games were simply a way for his friend to busy his hands while his mind was busy working. It was possible the motions were soothing as well – he himself often found himself doodling mindlessly when listening to a lecture.

Remy looked up, flashing him a grin.

"So de kit-kat finally got up de nerve t' ask yah out?" he snorted. "'Bout time she figu'ed out y' ain't de type tah make de first move."

Piotr flushed. "It izn't a date. She ahsked me as ah friend to celebrate the removal ouf her cast–"

"Which happened a week ago," Remy muttered.

"It's zhust about Halloveen, so it's a tyuo-in-vone celebration." Piotr blustered on, "Besidez, she has a boy-friend."

"Dey on de rocks again," Remy snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. "No pun intended."

"It iz not a date."

The other man rolled his eyes at the stubborn insistence and splayed his hands. "Let meh figure dat out. Got more experience, hein?" Piotr reluctantly nodded. "Where yah goin'?"

"Ah club."

Remy laughed out loud, throwing his head back before smirking at Piotr, who defensively crossed his arms over his wide chest. He counted on his fingers, "Y' dress up, dance and dere might be alcohol involved – dat's a date."

Piotr was not willing to concede his point. "It iz not like ve're going alone. Rogue and Varren are coming tyuo."

Remy's hand froze half-way to placing a card down. "Warren?"

Piotr nodded, eying him carefully. "You maeght remember hem?" Remy's time spent mind-controlled was a touchy subject. "Angel," he prompted.

"Oh." Remy deliberately continued lying down cards, all the humor gone from his face. He'd retreated to his poker face and that was never a good thing – and Piotr had to wonder if it was due to Angel or whatever his friend had going on with Rogue. He didn't know what it was, but he was far from oblivious. The card-playing mutant's interactions with the girl had ranged from crackling hot to downright frigid in the past few weeks.

"You hahdn't heard?" he still asked.

Remy gave a grim edged grin. "Somehow Remy be de last t' hear dese t'ings."

Kitty had come to accept some things about her roommate. She didn't flirt or fuss over her wardrobe too much, she tended to avoid people whenever possible, and she considered the ability to touch one of the greatest gifts one could have.

The past few weeks, however, threatened all these assumptions. For instance, Rogue was currently attacking her closet with a passion Kitty had only ever mustered on her worst hair days, when she was counting on her most flattering outfit to rescue the day.

After dodging a pair of black dress pants, Kitty decided it was time for some assistance. Rogue just kept pushing clothes aside and muttering. "How 'bout this skirt?" She leaned in and tugged the long black skirt that she knew had a very flattering high slit.

"No!" Rogue snatched the skirt out of her grasp.

"O-kay," Kitty drew out, backing up in confusion. Since when was Rogue so wound up over dressing?

"No black," Rogue said finally.

"But, it's like Halloween, I thought you'd like go as y'know Gothic," Kitty eyed her nervously.

"And fit in?" Rogue finished dryly. Her fists clenched as she looked away. "No, besides – maybe it's time for a change."

Kitty bit her lip as Rogue stared into her mirror, the skirt still pressed to her.

I'm coming out of my cage

And I've been doing just fine

Gotta, gotta be down

Because I want it all

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this

There were a few things Tabitha had had to accept when she rejoined the X-Men: more rules, more expectations and supervision, fewer opportunities for fun. However, given the sheer number of co-eds in the mansion, there was a massive source of one form of entertainment: observing the romantic interaction.

Lately, this scene, especially of the older students, had been seriously active.

Scott and Jean, of course, were being sickeningly sappy after Scott's classical proposal. It had been amusing to see Scott sweat up the courage to actually ask her though. As if he actually thought she was going to say no.

Kitty and Lance were officially on break while Lance considered his future outside of further education, and Kitty seemed to be eying up the hulky Russian with more than admiration. Tabby hadn't been witness to the developing closeness between them over Kitty's broken leg, but now that Kitty had moved from his immediate vicinity, she was making a more obvious attempt to continue it. – And a rather obvious attempt to make it more.

And then there was Rogue. Tabby wasn't sure what exactly was going on there, but watching her and Remy go at it was like watching a lava lamp. They'd started up slowly, then gotten hotter and more colorful over time. But then someone had pulled the plug – only to break the glass and let all the lava flow free. Since Gambit's return, they'd been quieter, but Tabby could tell when something was up. And something was definitely going on there.

Put Rogue on a double-date with the rich 'Angel'? Oh sparks were so going to fly.

That double-date was just begging to be crashed.

Now, all she needed was a ride. Her lips turned into a smirk as the perfect candidate strode into the room. She sidled up to him.

"Hey Remy boy."

The fellow energy-charger immediately slid into ease. "Yeah Tabby-cat?"

"Y'know I need to get outta here and get some air, stretch my legs," she winked at him as he looked on amused. She fiddled with the button edge of his shirt, "Anyway you might be headin' out tonight?"

"Where d'yah want t' get?"

"Oh, just a club."

His eyes narrowed, or so she assumed behind the glasses he wore. Looked like he had sensitive eyes today – she could only wonder why. "Not de same club dat de kit-kat and de Rogue be heading, by any chance?"

Her eyes widen innocently. "You read my mind!" Remy hesitated. Tabby felt like calling him out, but this looked like it was going to take some delicacy. "Oh c'mon, it'll be fun – and that is the sweetest club in town."

"Y' really want ta crash dat date?"

Tabby raised an eyebrow, unable to resist. "Don't you?"

With perfect timing, Rogue and Kitty passed by the doorway, chatting over something inane about their dates that night. His face darkened.

"Why not?"

Xavier watched them drive from his window that night, Logan pacing the floor behind him, waiting for the outburst.

"What the hell do they think they're doing?!" His old friend was far too predictable. Logan strode up to the window next to him in time to see a motorcycle sped out of the garage, going up on one wheel. He growled. Xavier sighed.

"I am sorry Logan; I know I've put you in a difficult situation."

Logan's fists flexed. "We never should've let them start this!"

Xavier steppled his hands, knowing it was time for yet another empty list of his reasons. "She was bound to do it either now or later. At least this way there was someway to keep a tab on her and her partner. If I had talked to her about it-" he felt the regret sharply, but refused to give it voice. "-if she had gone elsewhere due to an action or discussion on my part, it could've been disastrous."

Logan crossed his arms, his body drawing together as he stared into the night. "I tried to talk to her about it. When I caught her sneaking out of his room-" His throat tightened at the memory – her eyes coming to meet his shocked, ashamed, then defiant when she realized he'd known; he'd known ever since the beginning.

"Oh and now you have something to say about it?"

"Stay away from him."

"Y'know what, make me." Her eyes had glittered in mocking. "Oh right, you won't – because it's my decision!"

"I can smell him on her," Logan muttered, his body relaxing incrementally in vulnerability. "She washes it off, but- it's in too deep."

"I didn't foresee this," Xavier murmured feeling a decade older as the tail-lights disappeared into the darkness. "I suppose I overestimated the feasibility of a real relationship between them. They just have so much potential-"

Logan snorted, finally turning away from the window. "You see too much damn potential in everyone Chuck." Xavier shook his head, but without truly arguing. "So what now? We just leave 'em to figure it out?"

Xavier wheeled himself to face Logan. "Honestly, after seeing them apart-" he looked up into Wolverine's eyes.

"I'm afraid to come between them."

Rogue looked fine. The blue and green striped dress curved subtly around her figure, hinting rather than emphasizing her curves. The stripes separated at her shoulder, fluttering more loosely with sheer mesh connecting them, to re-meet at her wrist. They fluttered freely at her knees, where tights instead provided safety. It looked nice even.

But it wasn't Rogue.

This girl, with the light pastel makeup, with the smile that stayed a moment too long, who let her date put his arm around her waist, who didn't wear gloves and laughed a shade too high – wasn't Rogue. This girl matched her brand-name wearing date, who had the toothpaste commercial grin, elegant manners, and the self-consciousness of a winged hero.

But he didn't match the real Rogue, the one whose strange clone was demurely letting Warren help her take off her coat.

And that troubled Kitty more than she could say.

And because of her close surveillance, she saw when Rogue tensed – and a moment later, she saw why as the entrance flew open.

"Boom-badda-bing-badda-Boom is here!" Tabby was never one for a subtle entrance. Her arms were thrown out as if embracing the entire crowd, her sparkling silver halter top nearly blinding as the club lights reflected. Remy, on the other hand, was dressed in non-showy all black that perfectly suit him. A small gold chain glittered from around his neck. Rogue, almost unnoticeably, inched backward, closer to Warren. Tabby's eyes fell on them and she went into a spasm of fake surprise. "Oh my god. What are you guys going here!"

"I'll bet it's a surprise," Rogue muttered, as if to make up for her retreat.

Remy's reaction was calmer; he just nodded at them. "Petey. Kit-kat. Rogue." His eyes barely touched on her before focusing in on her date. "And y' must be d'ange." He smiled with too many teeth.

Warren drew himself up, stiffening. "Warren Worthington," he said coldly. Neither man offered a hand for a handshake.

"Hmmm," Remy drew out the sound, fingers coming up to tap his chin. "Sounds like dere be a number wit' dat name."

Warren didn't blush. "The third."

Remy's eyes glinted. "Oh – bet one et deux have pretty big shoes ta fill." Warren's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Tabby stepped between them offering a hand.

"And I'm Tabby," as they shook, Tabby gave him an appraising smile. "Nice call Rogue."

Rogue looked like she was about to be sick. "I need to go to the bathroom." She didn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and nearly fleeing to the restroom. Kitty was only two steps, leaving Piotr alone with two males facing off and an appreciative Tabitha.

"Better go with them, though I hate to miss this testosterone fest;" Tabby looked obviously between Warren and Remy, then winked at both, "but y'know us girls, gotta go in herds." She bee-lined after Rogue.

Piotr uneasily glanced between them – he could separate them without a problem, but using powers in public was never a great idea. Remy's eyes weren't on Warren though, but on one particular girl as his smile faded. Warren glared, aware of his gaze.

"So Gambit," his tone was icy, eyes narrowing. "I remember you… Looks like you have your eye on something of mine – again."

Remy slid on a smirk. "Least I know enough to know she ain't yours." Warren's shoulders flexed and Remy clucked his tongue, stepping into Warren's personal space.

"Woul'n't show dose wings in here, FlyBoy – don't know how they'd deal wit' a real angel," his tone was slick with mocking as he then brushed by his competition.

Instead of following the girls however, he headed in the direction of the bar, his mood souring with every step. What had he thought coming here would accomplish? Watching her be comfortable with another man – he didn't want to care, but seeing the proof he wasn't her type just made his teeth grind.

He ordered a drink at the bar before he realized he still had an edge on Warren. She still wanted him and thanks to her bathroom rush, she was separated from her date for the moment.

"Here you go."

He threw back the bourbon with the air of a parachuter readying himself for the jump. Liquid courage. Since when had he ever needed it?

"Ah just need a minute, okay?" It was too vehement to be actually pleading, but it was as close as she could get.

Kitty, idling in front of the stall door, relented. "Okay. I'm going to go back to the guys; don't want them to feel abandoned." Rogue didn't respond and Kitty blew out a breath.

Tabby, leaning against the bathroom wall, snorted. "What with the pissing contest, I bet they didn't even notice we were gone." Rogue shot her eyes, feeling her stomach roil.

Kitty shot her a look, but Tabby just gave an innocent shrug. "We'll be waiting by the entrance," Kitty said instead, before reluctantly moving out of the bathroom, dragging Tabby behind her.

Rogue waited for long seconds until she was sure they were gone, before unhitching the door. She walked to the sink and put her hands down on it, arms stiff, as if the cool tile could possibly ground her. Her head tilted down and she took deep, cleansing breaths. But finally her face came up.

She looked in the mirror. She stared at her pale, bare face and wished desperately for her thick Gothic makeup.

She tried to think of Warren, dashing, courteous, rich Warren.

But all she could think of was Scott's bare hands, just like Warren's.

Void of scars.

She was only three steps from the bathroom when she was pounced on and hauled into the shadows. She opened her mouth to protest, but her body was already buzzing with awareness and his lips ravaged her mouth. He tilted her head back and wrapped himself around her like an octopus suctioning unto dinner. And she was lost in the touch – until they parted to take a breath and she could taste the alcohol bitter against the lining of her throat.

"Are you drunk?" she hissed, still a little disoriented. "Because y'ain't getting' any action like this!"

"That a new rule?" he sneered, still too bitter and angry and jealous to be gentle.

"Yeah. Besides ah'm here on a date!" She stiffened against him with awareness, a flush settling in her bare cheeks – and he felt a burn in his chest at the fact another would be witness to it, the inspiration for it.

He gripped her hips tighter, angling his face close to hers. "Oh but le diable be more amusement, hein?" he said throatily. Her eyes flashed and she pushed him away.

"Maybe I don't want the devil!" She stared him defiantly in the eye and –

She doesn't want to want him and the knowledge burns like acid.

He let go and she hurried away.

"I know what's your trouble." The bartender grinned with the wisdom of seeing a thousand relational dramas play out every night.

"What?" Remy snapped from his slump over the bar, nursing another drink.

"You're in love." The bartender didn't even bother to look up, just kept cleaning the mug he held.

The string of words is dumbfounding from a man who barely knew him. "Remy don't fall in love," he insisted.

The idea isn't a new one, but – he's not ready to go there. Love has been a game for too long for him to lose so easily.

The bartender started humming the 'Mission Impossible' theme song.

Remy hated bartenders with a sense of humor.

He looked away, over his shoulder, and saw Rogue's bare hand brush Warren's as the man led her out to dance – and his stomach tightened even more. He needed a distraction.

And I just can't look its killing me

And taking control

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

He was fun.

Reserved, yes, but Kitty had figured out during her time of convalescence that Piotr preferred to say things of meaning. He didn't like feeling pressured to speak, especially when he was already nervous, but he'd listen very intently to the inane chatter she was prone to – and remember.

What really was hotter than a guy who actually remembered what you griped about the week before and asked how it was going now?

His nervousness and self-consciousness was cute; his lack of awareness over his sweetness downright heart pit-patter material. His concern for his friend, for Remy, was equally touching – though unnerving as she realized she'd been right all along about the disturbing consequences of whatever Rogue and Remy were doing. Except she didn't want to think about that – not with a cute Russian who she really didn't want to see frowning worriedly all night and a best friend who was currently on the dance floor with another man as the other and his 'date' had disappeared into the crowd. Tonight was for fun, not chewing lips out of ignorant concerned speculation – or giving a thought to her moody ex-boyfriend.

So instead she eased the stiffness out of Piotr by going to dance, taking the lead and getting him to laugh. And once loosened, his comments on other people's outfits (he definitely had an artist's eye – and man, what she would give to see in that notebook of hers) provided plenty of fodder for conspiratorial smiles or mock-heated debates.

She was so engrossed in fact, that she didn't listen to her leg's complaining until she nearly nose-dived into the booth they were about to sit down in for a break. She swore.

"Katya?" It was amazing that even while she was in pain, his nickname made her blush.

"I'm fine," she said at once, but not moving from the sprawled position of bracing her body with a hand on the back of the seat and the table. He tentatively wrapped an arm around her middle and helped her into the booth. She smiled reassuringly up to him. "I guess my leg is still a bit wobbly."

Piotr only looked half-convinced. A whistle sounded by them and Kitty was surprised to see Tabby had appeared out of nowhere.

"Looked like you were about to qualify for a nose job there," she said, before a grin settled on her face. "'s funny. You save the world and then find tubs and club booths a leg-breaking challenge."

Kitty glared, but Piotr's eyes immediately flew to her lower leg.

"It iz still in vone piece, ja?"

"Of course it is!" She sprang up to demonstrate, only to end up listing to one side as her leg wavered under the pressure. Piotr caught her with a frown as Tabby snickered. "Erm, maybe I should stay off it."

"Are you okay Kitty?" Wonderful – another spectator witness to her mortification. She covered her face with her hands, grateful for Piotr's full support.

"I'm fine Rogue."

"I zink we should head back to the Mansion," Piotr said firmly. Kitty looked up immediately.

"But it's so early!" The protest was ignored. It was only then, looking around for sympathy, that Kitty noticed Rogue's hard face – the face of the real Rogue in true distemper.

"Can I go with? My ride ditched me," Tabby said casually, avoiding looking in Rogue's direction.

"I'm ready to leave." Rogue had the tenseness in her voice that only came from suppressed anger. Kitty had only to look behind her, her eyes automatically searching out their last teammate from the crowd - and she spotted an all-too-familiar trench coat-clad figure making out with a curvy blond against a wall. Her heart lurched for Rogue.

Warren, however, was not so observant.

"Where's your friend, Gambit right?"

"Probably trashed somewhere, ready on his next conquest," the comment was acidic – but Kitty bit her lip. She doubted she was the only one to hear the undercurrent of bitterness there. Her eyes slipped over to Rogue's date, just in time to see him force a tight frown from his face. And suddenly, she felt bad for Warren, caught up in the middle of this tangle.

"I guess we're all going," he said.

They gathered up their coats and Piotr hovered over the limping Kitty like the overprotective sweetheart he was, making her melt just a little.

"Iv your leg haz too much pain, I could carry you," he said, with a wrinkle between his eyes.

Kitty's eyes flew to his solid biceps involuntarily. "Oh, I bet," she murmured.

"Vhat?" She snapped back to attention, her cheeks flushing hotly.

"I'm fine," she reassured him once again, turning away in embarrassment to fuss over the buttons of her jacket. She glanced down just in time to see Rogue slip on winter gloves beside her.

Rogue caught her looking. "It's cold out," she snapped defensively.

Kitty didn't say anything. But Rogue hadn't worn gloves on the way there.

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

Now I'm falling asleep

And she's calling a cab

While he's having a smoke

And she's taking a drag

--Now they're going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it's all in my head

But she's touching his-chest

Now, he takes off her dress

Now, letting me go

"Warren, thanks for the nice time. It was really nice to go out with someone."

"The pleasure was all mine Rogue. You looked pretty tonight."

He imagined her blush, the rose curling up her cheeks to off-set her deathly pale.

"Doubt it's what most people imagine when they think of dressing up for Halloween."

"Since when is that a bad thing?" Mutual smiles there, no doubt. "You know, I would look forward to doing this again next time I'm in town."

"Warren, ah…" She lapsed into silence and he felt like shaking, shaking every single answer out of her until he could just, just – his hands flexed – just nothing.

He wasn't an imperialist, sticking around, shaping a conquest into exactly what he wanted; he was a conquistador, looting then departing. Only this time, he couldn't get himself to leave the f-ing city alone.

"No pressure Rogue. Perhaps we could keep in contact and see what happens?"

"Warren, ah'm just learning how to touch. Ah, ah'm not ready for a relationship."

Silence – had he nodded? Smiled understandingly? Or had he frowned? Given disappointed puppy eyes? Not knowing drove Remy just a little bit madder, but he didn't dare move from his position poised on the staircase out of sight.

"How 'bout I just settle for a small demonstration?"

He could imagine the cheesy, teasing smile – the light blush on her face but determined look in her eyes and the leaning up on tiptoe to press her lips –

He wasn't a masochist.

And the thief made his escape, plans already coalescing in his head.

"Warren, thanks for understanding." She sent a tight smile up to him. He nodded, his face troubled and carefully gripped her wrist.

"Just – be careful Rogue."

She stiffened at the implications, at the way he stared directly into her eyes with that stupid worried expression.

"I can handle myself," she brushed him off frostily and headed to her room.

Remy closed his eyes as he sat on his bed, cards already shuffling in hand.

Damn her.

She caught him watching them out of the corner of his eye.

The blond sighed, stepping away from him. "All the good guys are gay or taken," she muttered under her breath before nodding in Rogue's direction. "So what is she? An ex or potential?"

Remy ran a hand through his hair. "Non," he said, then gave up, "'s complicated."

He watched as Warren helped Rogue put on her coat, her sliding into it and practically into his embrace.

Would she come to him tonight? He hated the fact she could out like this and still – what, expect him? She'd never limited his activities – 'Yah mine tanight'. At the time, he'd seen it as a triumph, a sign he was getting to her. He'd kill to hear her say it again…

The woman patted him on the chest, "Oh don't worry. You're hotter than him, hellova kisser–" the lights overhead lit on Warren's watch and sharp suit as he held the door open for Rogue to leave, "ooh looks like he's got money." Remy scowled and the blond gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry, not helping. Well," she gave him one last pat, "good luck." With a generous grin, she made her way back into the crowd.

The decision to follow Rogue instead wasn't even one of conscious thought.

She came in sweats and a T-shirt, reminding him once more – she didn't dress for him. The knowledge that she had once, just made the fact more bitter.

She looked at him, lounging against the headboard, dressed only in his flaming card boxers. The gold chain still dangled around his neck, but the rest of the night's finery was gone. There was a card between his fingers and she watched as he gracefully let it fly, to neatly land in the cap he'd scrounged from somewhere. He didn't look up, just watched the card land.

She walked toward him, all casual but without sexual poise, until she very deliberately threw one leg over his waist and straddled him.

He allowed it.

"Mind what yah heard?" she asked him, her eyes intent on his face. She hung over him, her breasts tight against her shirt, low to his chest as she braced herself on the bed.

But Gambit had played this game more than once. In this ring, he was the master and she, she was a mere novice.

"Nona m' business," he said with a little shrug. She stared at him and, his empathy circled her like an eagle with eyes on prey, he could feel the wash of disappointment – but she closed her eyes and kissed him and he let her work her will.

He wasn't done with her.

He'd put her together, and now he was going to fucking pull her apart – like pulling the wings off a butterfly.

It's no longer a game.

This is war.

The taste of betrayal – she wondered if it had a taste, because for some reason all she could think is that was exactly what the kiss tasted like. Only she wasn't sure whose flavored it.

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Kitty curled up in her pajamas and sighed. She looked over to Rogue's side.

"I hope you know what you're doing Rogue."

She spoke to an empty bed.