Lowen stared at her now barren plate with pure intensity, giving the dish her careful and utmost fake attention. She wistfully wished that she had eaten slower just so her mind could have something else to focus on instead of reveling on the red man behind, as if having something else to do would somehow make him fade right out of existence. Now all she could feel was his unmoving hands on her crippled wings.

"These headaches," he began, "happen all times when you read minds?"

"What? Oh, no! I can't read minds," she replied mildly. All of the sudden, she could feel a cloud of certain doom closing in on her as she realized where this was going. "I can't read your mind!" she burst out all too quickly. "T-Trust me," she sputtered, imagining that he was behind her with his hands inches from ripping her throat out. "even if I could read your mind, there is no way in hell that I would want to!" She instantly wished that she was behind herself, her hands inches from ripping her throat out. Why was she unconsciously trying to provoke violence?

More silence. She hated that. She took a deep breath and gave a silent prayer that she wouldn't be dead before she finished her exclamation.

"I.. I can sense emotions.. feelings.. but not any direct thought!" she rushed. Slow down, just slow down, her mind urged her from within her frantic, jumbled thoughts. Another deep breath, and still not a single movement from the man behind her.

"I can only sense what people feel.. like fear or sadness.. I can't read them to find out why they're scared or sad because, as I said before, I can't read minds, but I can feel projections of emotions. That's really all I can do.." She suddenly felt very small and stupid. At least she wasn't dead.

This awesome, powerful man that flanked her, she was afraid of him.. nay, nearly terrified of him. Not because he was absolutely intimidating not only in raw power, cunning, and strength, but also in figure. The dark stubble on his jaw, the intensity of his eyes, his tall, muscular form that commanded regal attention.. all of this was enough to terrify even the strongest man, but it wasn't that that put Lowen on guard. Even the most aloof of people gave off the aura of emotion. Azazel.. he seemed to give off nothing; no emotion, no signs of humanity, just a void that seemed to swallow up any feeling or sign of life. That was what terrified her.

"So, if I want to kill you right now, you would know what I plan?" His voice pierced through her thoughts as if he has just materialized. Lowen was struck momentarily speechless by his bluntness.

"Well, no, I can't.. do that," she fumbled after somewhat recovering her bearings. Her eyes met the carpet, but her new vision gave her wary mind and eyes little relief. "I can't sense what people are going to do, only what they feel in the moment." She only dared to glance back at those eyes. "So," she began slowly and carefully, "if you wanted to kill me, I wouldn't know.. but.. maybe I would be able to feel some signs from your emotions." There was no way in hell she would be able to know what he was feeling, this she knew, but he had no idea of this frustrating development. She took that dare and looked over her shoulder and up into his face. "I would sense your... malice, your rage, maybe your nervousness.."

"I never get nervous when I kill," he replied coolly.

"Oh, well, that's.. good," she said, not knowing how to really reply to that any other way. Thank you, gods of awkward. He leaned forward on the couch, though his fingertips left her redressed and freshly guazed feathers. The sensation caused Lowen's eyes to dart once again to the floor.

"You can know feelings, but not true intentions?" he summed up, standing and moving around her to stand at her arm. She nodded, vision barely grazing the wall of his perfectly black shoes. She vaguely wondered how his shoes stayed so clean even though they had tromped through mud, rain, and forest, as best as she could recall.

Without any warning, she was yanked off her chair and slammed up against the wall. Her mind was reeling, and she could think of nothing as those steely-blue eyes bore into her own.

"Tell me what I am feeling," he whispered, his face so close to her own. It took great effort for her to hear the reminder that she needed to inhale over the manic screeching of her panicking brain. She felt the very air around them scream with intensity. The hot breath against her cheek, the power of the arms across her throat and shoulders, the intensity of those eyes.. those eyes.. Every fiber of being in her body, both physical and mental, screamed out as she exerted her power. She had to read him, she HAD to! Her life was depending on it! One wrong answer, say one thing he didn't want to hear and WHAM, she was dead! Forget the head-splitting pain she knew would rip through her brain if she tried to use her powers again, she just knew she had to do something, anything just to pacify him. ANYTHING! The fever was starting to take over, feeling like a mix of a volcano and quicksand, the slow sinking tugging at her psyche, but with the noise of destruction rumbling louder and louder, until the sound threatened to crush her eardrums with sheer force.

She screamed; she didn't realize she was screaming at first, but she then realized that it was the only thing she could hear. It all stopped. Everything was quiet except her own loud breathing as her eyes opened. When did she close them? He was still there. He was still staring into her, as if studying the very depths of her soul. Had she really screamed or just imagined it? If she did, she realized that he wasn't at all fazed by it. He leaned closer.

"You're.. you're feeling no remorse," she gasped. "... You want to kill me." Though she didn't think it was even possible, he leaned even closer, and she felt herself hold her breath. His lips brushed lightly over her face.

"Wrong," he breathed, then retracted his arms from her body, causing her to fall back to the floor on her butt. She choked air back into her lungs. There would be bruises in the morning. His back turned, she looked up at the man as he walked toward the bathroom.

"You would be smart to train your power more. Very weak." With that, the door was shut, and she was alone with her thoughts buzzing like bees around her weary head. It was then that she realized that her powers didn't go berserk as she thought they might.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Azazel had neatly folded up the towels and courteously tidied up the bathroom for her before she went in. Lowen knew that she needed a shower, especially after last night's crazy confrontation. Before she stepped in, Azazel announced that he was heading out for more food and other "supply". Fine with her, just as long as she got good and clean and didn't have to worry about him doing anymore crazy shit.

The clean, hot water ran down her body, causing a happy sigh to escape past her lips, an act that surprised herself. She guessed that simplicity was just her type of bliss, which would explain her unhappiness at the complicated situation she now found herself in. That, and the guy she was with was a terrifying demon-man who felt nothing. With that thought, she twisted her neck to try and look at her chest and collarbone. An angry purple bruise ringed by a scarlet halo met her vision, just as she thought. She stared at it intently for a moment and let the water drip into her eyes. Thoughts of last night... dammit, what was he feeling?

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she heard knocking and stopped. Azazel. Why didn't he just teleport through the door? Now she had to let him in a towel? UUUUUUGH.. Still dripping, she hurried over.

"Ahh, I'm in a towel right now," she called out to him.

"That's okay, cheri. Remy won't peek."

WHAT THE FUCK? She didn't know whether to fall over, laugh, or open the door and kick the shit out of... of... who was that?

"Who is that?" she barked. Before any reply came, the door clicked and swung open, letting the visitor stride in with ease. His trench coat billowed majestically around him as if he was a noble of some kind. Dark, auburn hair and the same coloration of stubble patched his strong jaw. He turned to face the dumbfounded girl by the door, only to have his face be met with a heavy dose of lamp before he could utter a single word.

"YOU... YOU... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" screeched the partially covered female wielding the seemingly harmless piece of decor. Lowen didn't care what the hell he looked like; all that mattered was that he had just picked open a locked door, walked into her room like he owned it, and, on top of everything else, she was half-naked and not in the mood for strange company. Oh, this guy was going NOWHERE. He flinched, groaned, and covered his face in anticipation of another attack.

"Friend of a friend, femme!" he yelped.

"WHY DO I NOT BELIEVE YOU?" she seethed, about to strike again. The man frantically lifted his hands to shield himself.

"Logan!" he yelled quickly, hoping she heard before he was struck a second time. That seemed to have an effect, seeing as how she put down her lamp-mace and gave him a curious look.

"Logan sent you?" she asked, startled. The man stopped cringing and nodded, a bit startled himself at the less than orthodox greeting. Then again, he had just barged in without permission.. how was she to know what his intentions were? It's not like she knew that he did this sort of thing all the time.

"Name's Remy. Remy LeBeau, but most folks go about calling me Gambit," he introduced himself with a grand bow. "And you are..? " Upon righting himself, he realized that she was standing stock still, eyebrows low over narrowed eyes and jaw stuck forward in an angry scowl.

"I am, Remy LeBeau, not used to being barged in on when I'm getting dressed. So if you don't mind.." she growled, her words positively dripping with poison and sarcasm.

"Oh no, I don't mind," he replied lightly, sitting patiently on the bed. Neither of them moved.

"Oh!" he realized to late to expect any type of forgiveness. The only reply he was graced with was a snarl and the slamming of the bathroom door.

"Try to pick this lock and your testicles will be next to your eyeballs!" came the voice from behind the door.

"Point taken, cheri."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

A/N: Hey! So, I'm not dead. Hopefully you like the update. I haven't had a computer for a while, but I typed this up in a doozy of a day or so based on weeks of ideas! I know it doesn't satisfy a whole lot, but the story will start to become clearer soon. I promise. Stay with me?