Rogue walked down the alley. The music came from all sides, the smells of deep fried southern goodness wafted to her. It warmed her stomach and turned it at the same time to be home. Or at least so close to home. When she spoke, people didn't eye her strangely for her deep drawl, they smiled. Not the amused smile, but a welcome smile, like they spoke the same language.
She still got strange looks for her attire, long gloves in the heat, but the lacy versions or fishnets made people just think she was a silly rebellious youth. Her hair attested to it as well. Little did they know she was old enough to have outgrown such things, but her sweet southern eyes could turn on the innocence should she so choose.
She entered the bar and tossed a smile to the regulars, the welcoming calls and hollers, which could still be heard over the southern rock blasting from the old fashioned jukebox. She slipped behind the bar, dropped her belongings down under the counter.
"Aw, Cherry," a regular called, "When are ya gonna marry me, eh?"
She smiled sweetly, repressing the eye-roll that begged her for release. "Soon as ya pay yah tab, Johnny."
"You really gonna make me wait that long?"
She laughed as she lifted up the bar door, dumping her purse under the counter. She fell into work, scrubbing pint glasses and mixing drinks, pouring beers and laughing at stupid jokes. After a few hours she begged off for a cigarette in the back. Once she got out back, she heaved a sigh of relief for the break. She set out her box of smokes, never using them as more than a prop should someone come along, she sat on a crate.
She was exhausted and bored in the same moment, jaded and searching at the same time. Five months at the seedy bar had been enough to clear her mind. So she thought, but she still didn't know what to do. She wasn't ready to go home…but she had no home she reminded herself. Her old home was too crazy, too much, she wasn't sure where she belonged anymore.
She took her lighter and rolled the wheel to strike the flint, the flame jumped to life. she moved a finger through the fire and entertained herself for a moment. When her finger was in the flame, she could feel it, but also not, her invulnerability protecting her somewhat. She extinguished the lighter, gathered her props, and with a heaved sigh, stood up and went back inside before she changed her mind.
It was always an option she told herself. She could walk away. She had done it many times before. why not know? She moved through the back, a pitiful kitchen where bar food was, not baked or cooked, but fried. Through the double doors, she avoided the bathroom runs some drinkers were making and passed by the corner booth to remain out of the way.
She stopped. The smoke was thick but she recognized the red eyes through the haze and she felt the heat of being watched. As casually as she could manage she moved towards the him.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"Remy could ask you the same, no?" Gambit smiled. He leaned back, his arms behind his head as he stretched. "Da Rogue gone rogue, eh?"
"I, eh," Rogue sat. Deciding she need not justify herself, she crossed her arms and leaned on the table. "So?"
"How's the jambalaya?" he smiled one of those smiles.
"Fried."
"Gambit," she started. "Remy."
He cocked a brow at her.
"Why ya here?" her accent came thick, she knew, but he smiled.
"This you den?"
"This is me, yeh." A part anyway, she thought.
"Please, don' come in here, tellin' me that y'all need me back. It don' work that way. I don' work that way." She told him. after a pause, she couldn't hold back. "I don' wanna work that way."
"Remy not here fo' nothin'." He shrugged. "Least, not what da rogue thinkin'."
Rogue didn't speak, not sure how to answer or what he could possibly want. She wasn't prepared to ask either. The jukebox lit to life, blasting a little southern rock over the sounds of the street music outside.
"I left because it became too much. Everyone inside my head?" she shook it at that thought. it took a month alone for the voices to quiet.
"What?" He leaned over the table to ask her.
"I said," she spoke louder, leaning towards him, "It was too many people in me."
His look questioned her again, she couldn't even her his 'what' over the chorus and drunks singing. "Too much!"
"Why don't you just turn it off?" he, sitting now beside her, shouted in her ear.
Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn…it...off...
Rogue sat up in a start, panting. Her hand against her heart she felt the thumping of her heart. She screwed up her face as she listened to the sounds of nothing around her. She was in the woods. Only the sounds of nature and not people and mischief.
Her head returned to her. She was still close to the mansion. she had only left the mansion a few days ago, needing some fresh air. She had never intended to flee, but the fields and woods had been so peaceful.
She crossed her legs under her, and couldn't help but think about her dream. She had run away, had all but given up her powers, had tried to have a normal life. Is that what she wanted?
"And that blasted Cajun," she said. Why had he been in her dream? She knew but wasn't about to admit it.
She shook her head, dirt and leaves falling out. She stood up and brushed her body off. What to do now?
"Dreams aside," she told herself, "This is reality."
She headed home.
Short, but sweet. A seed has been planted in Rogue, hopefully she will let it grow. She is solving her own problems I believe. Albeit in a strange manner. But that Remy, I think he will play more of a part…heh heh heh.