Light, so much light.
Gambit opened his eyes, a sharp string of pain hit his temples as he tried to blink a couple of times. The black shadow around his vision started to fade away, the cloudiness in his sight was gone. Turning his head on his side, his sight caught the half open windows and unwashed dark colored curtains.
His head was killing him and the excessive amount of light wasn't helping any. He groaned at the brightness after he tried to sit up, finding out that the only body part in pain wasn't just his head. He put his hand on his torso, it was easy to touch the clean bandage on his wound seeing as his shirt was unbuttoned.
Closing his eyes in pain, he leaned against the bed frame and huffed in annoyance of his fuzzy memories. Obviously he was drinking the night before, so that could explain the headache and the thirst. But his whole body was sore, which he had a hard time focusing on why. He looked around to see if there was any water bottle on the drawer, finding nothing than his burner phone.
Bar, drinkin' with a smokin' hot southerner and Victor Creed.
Now it was all coming back to him. His red on black eyes began searching around the room in order to catch a sight of the mysterious woman he met at the bar and not to mention, stitched up his ass. But there wasn't anything in the room, no sight of her whatsoever.
He let his body sunk into the uncomfortable pillow, wondering whether she left after she was done stitching him up, or in the morning just before he woke up. Not that it mattered any, he was sitting in the room alone either way. But he still wanted to thank her for the nice gesture, appearing in someone's life, saving his ass and get him a treatment before disappearing was just pure angelic, like Holy Bible angelic and he was a catholic who wanted to make sure he wasn't going crazy, he wanted to know if that had actually happened.
And this whole thing with Creed was just, eh, mortifying. Not that furry bastard, no, he didn't give a fuck about that freaking giant animal. But Essex was something different, he knew as much as he tried, he couldn't get away from that monster. Debts were meant to be paid, at some time. Didn't he serve enough to pay his? He had a feeling that a pair of blood eyes was going to haunt him for the rest of his life and living in the shadows wasn't helping anymore.
Hearing the sound of the door handle twisting, he instinctively reached out for his deck of cards. Alerted although he was still in bed, he heard someone humming a song that he didn't know of. A feminine figure walked in with a Starbucks bag in her hand, flashing a genuine smile at the brown haired man. "Hey, sugah," she cheered. "Glad to see you're safe and sound."
Rogue.
He exhaled in relief. A relief whether involved seeing a friendly face or seeing her, he didn't know, but he found himself in a better mood than he woke up. Playing with his cards, twisting them between his hands, he offered a cheeky smile. "I thought y' left me, chére," he said, giving her a brief wink.
Rogue cocked her head aside, giving him a small pout. "Honestly, Ah didn't know what to do," she said in all honesty. "But Ah couldn't just leave you like that, swamp rat."
"Mm, I feel spoiled."
"Hardly," she rolled her eyes playfully, handing him a filter coffee in a carton cup. "Didn't know what you prefer, so I got plain ol' coffee."
"Merci beaucoup," he said as he reached his hand to take the cup, before taking a big sip to cure his thirst. His eyes lingered on the woman sitting on the chair in front of the bed. She was still wearing a turtleneck and black short leather jacket alongside the green, silk gloves. He recalled thinking her beautiful the night before and she was just as beautiful now even when he was as sober as a judge, with her unique white stripe in her long brown hair and emerald green eyes. She truly was a southern belle with her breath taking body and a beautiful face.
She shifted uncomfortably under his intense glare and cleared her throat softly, snapping his attention back to the situation. "So," she began, her gloved hands drawing circles on her own cup. "Essex. What do you know about this guy?"
Gambit gave her a soft groan, his thick arm twisted on his face, covering his eyes in annoyance. "Not this again, p'tite," he muttered. "I told y', it's not safe t' get involved with these guys. Jus' let it go."
That caused him to earn a glare from her. "Ah'm not afraid of these people," she insisted, crossing her legs. "You don't know me at all."
"Exactement m' point, chére."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she narrowed her eyes, accusingly. "You think Ah'm some scared lil' girl?"
"Non," he replied hastily, putting aside his cup on the drawer. His red irises were fixated on her green ones, holding a firm glare. "What that means is that y' don't know me, either, p'tite. While I appreciate the help, I won't let y' get yourself in trouble," he said, firmly. "You're too young t' play the hero, these guys would eat y' alive," he added, recalling some weird ass mutants he met at some random bar in Chicago, some beast looking creatures and fucked up fetishes. "And I meant that literally."
"Ah sure wasn't too young last night, Cajun."
He opened his mouth to protest, but closed again, finding nothing to say against that. Okay, she had a point, but these were entirely different things. These people were murderers, they were bad to the bone. His intentions, well, they weren't completely innocent last night. But sex was a primal instinct and she was a beautiful woman who looked like twenty three at most, eighteen at last. Nothing to be ashamed about this, especially seeing as she talked like someone with a mature personality… and not to mention, a killer body.
"Look," she cut off, annoyed with his reasoning earlier. "Ah don't wanna play the hero, that's all Ah've done for the past years. But trust me when Ah say this, Ah know these people… from first hand, alright? If there's anything Ah can do to stop something Sabretooth does, Ah will."
He looked at her with a raised brow, analyzing every word. Victor Creed was known to be working darkly, he worked for people like Magneto, Stryker and Essex. Rogue knew a handful about these guys, yet he didn't know why and how. And she had said Magneto's name with a disgust, he recalled that memory. "What do y' mean by first hand, chére?" he asked, one eyebrow still raised. "Y' used t' work for 'em or somethin'?" he added suspiciously, that could actually explain a lot.
She looked horrified as a rabbit flashed with a light, as if he asked something too ridiculous to be true. "Over my dead body, Cajun," she shook her head and took a sip from her coffee. "Ah'm gonna be honest with ya, I was stayin' at Xavier's for a long time until Ah realized it wasn't right for me."
Red flag, red flag, red fucking flag.
It was his turn to shift in an uncomfortable position. Yeah, devoting his life to a piece of ungrateful mutant brats wasn't his thing. He was more like the anti-hero of all possible scenarios and now, she seemed like a true symbol of innocence. And not to mention, he might've actually had to battle against her X friends on several occasions, which he couldn't clearly remember. Who was on the team nowadays, Wolvie? Maybe not, he'd heard he was somewhere in the north. Oh and the magnificent part about this whole situation, Stormy had actually called him for an invitation to the X-Mansion, which he politely declined the offer simply because he wasn't hero material. He supressed a laugh, thinking about the fact he would be this girl's teacher if he accepted the offer. Oh, dear lord.
And now, life was throwing an angelic mutant named Rogue on his way. Jokes on you, Stormy, I ain't joinin' your lil' club.
He realized he wasn't saying anything for about a minute, so he cleared his throat and grabbed his coffee again. "Eh, what do y' say, chére?" he gave her a playful smile. "Time t' kiss an' part our ways?" he suggested, a cheeky look in his eyes. He may have been wounded, but his energy for what he had in mind was never truly gone to be honest.
"You're not even listenin' to me," Rogue was furious, first time he had probably seen the look in her eyes. She rose from her chair and stood at the end of the bed, one hand on her hip. "Look, something bad's gonna happen. And trust me when Ah say Ah know."
He sighed wearily, surprised at having enough patience in his body for this conversation. "Tell me, p'tite, how exactly do y' know that?" he rubbed his temple with one hand, drinking his coffee in an apathetic demeanor. "Y' a fortune teller or somethin'?"
"Nothing like that," she looked hesitant for a moment before she gave him a sigh in return. "Because Ah saw."
"Y' saw what?"
"Why Nathaniel Essex wants that ring."
His careless demeanor vanished completely, red on black eyes were fixated on hers like a predator watching his prey. How did she know so much about Essex? Not to mention, she did say Nathaniel Essex. How come did she end up in the middle of everything since last night? He had to be stupid to believe in this much of a coincidence. Oh, lord, he was being a paranoid maniac but did Essex send her as a double agent? He had done things very similar to this, it was his expertise which wouldn't surprise him. Or maybe was she recruited by some another underground organization that wanted the very same thing as Essex did?
Merde, which actually made sense was that she brought up Xavier's Institute a couple of times, once when he was bleeding and now blabbing about who she was. Although, he was pretty sure the name for the school was different now -something gifted of young people or something like that. Why did she keep calling that school as Xavier's? Maybe someone did a bad homework as an agent.
She did't look like the type to be one of the X team, to be honest. Sure she was helpful an all, but she had this strange aura around her that just didn't make sense. She looked naive and young, had a cloudy look in her beautiful green eyes. She just didn't look like a professional, that was the type he would go for when thinking about those X people. Gambit thought that the people at the Xavier's had too much moral to ask a criminal such as himself for help, in fact, they liked shady business as much as any other mutant organization –except, they liked to advertise themselves in Good Morning America every once in a while, to prove that all mutants weren't bad. News check, yeah pretty much everyone –including himself was bad, he had experienced enough in this world to believe that.
Another reason he didn't want to be a part of Stormy's little team. It was just inconsistent.
But Rogue knew way too much for some random stranger at a bar, that part didn't add up. Ever since he had laid eyes on her at the counter and began talking to her –no wait, she had actually given him the hints by drinking his fucking drink. She had offered to buy another and they fucking talked for a long time. It was her doing from the beginning, not his.
Oh, Dieu.
He would be humiliated if his family had a clue on how professionally he had gotten deceived by some girl. He suppressed a groan at the thought that she had put the moves first, not him. He was just being played, on and on again with her talking, drinking and helping him.
Before Rogue could sense something was wrong with him, she found her back on the wall, his one hand capturing her thin gloved hands into one, as the other on her throat, not squeezing hard but still in a firm hold to block her from moving. "Putain qui es-tu?" he demanded, his voice raspy and firm, as well as his grip.
Her green eyes widened briefly before flashing a dangerous look back at him. She tried to wiggle her way out of his grip, but his body and his hands were quick to block her from doing so. "What the fuck, Cajun?" she panted heavily as his grip on her neck tightened, obviously waiting for an answer. "Let me go!" she breathed, trying to free her hand from the glove. As a distraction, she tried to kick him as his legs were pressed as a heavy weight on top of hers, but failed when he pressed his legs hard enough actually hurt one of hers. "Ah swear to God, swamp rat, if you don't release me," she began, struggling harder to let herself out of his grip as a cough let out.
"Who are y'?" he cut her off, she could feel his warm breath on her face. She knew a way out from his grip, she tried once more to wriggle herself from his grip, but he was too strong for her liking now and the fact that he didn't receive an answer from her pushed him to the edge. He pressed his thumb over her neck even harder, his grip tightened as if it was possible, waiting for her to give in. He was obviously trying not to touch her hands, confident in himself since she was wearing her gloves and knowing about her mutation and all. But little did he know was that her mutation didn't work only from her hands. It was all of her and she wasn't willing to let a complete stranger just strangle her in some random room of a cheap motel.
Hey, another psyche.
She had to do it because her vision started to fade away and she was probably about to pass out. She smacked her lips to his and kissed him firmly, not waiting for him to do anything about it, she took the opportunity of his confusion and distraction and freed her hands from his grip, only to put them on the sides of his face and pulling him closer.
He looked puzzled just before his eyes widened when her mutation began to surface. She closed her eyes shortly, tinting her lips a little and enjoying the guilty pleasure as she could taste him in her mouth. Bourbon and rich tobacco. It wasn't soft and all lovey dovey, she was demanding, her lips captured his in a strong hold, making sure he would pass out from the contact but not long enough to be in comatose right after.
Just for a brief moment, she could swear he responded back through all the confusion, but couldn't pursue it as he let out a weary sigh and felt his head fall on the curve of her neck. He could feel his entire body being in pain and his vision completely went black, causing the woman to shriek in empathy. She knew how people felt whenever they touched her, it was a painful experience which was nearly equal to being shot by electric current.
Her arms tightened around his drop dead body, slowly sinking onto the floor and being careful with his head. She leaned against the empty wall as the memories that belonged to the unconscious man lying next to her surface in her mind. Blood, a beautiful blonde woman, a wedding, so much pain. Something that had to be a beautiful memory, yet it was just cruel and dark. Something the man didn't want to remember, yet it was buried deep in his mind forever.
Rogue closed her eyes in so much agony, her heart aching at so much different painful image. The things he had to endure in his lifetime was as bad as Logan's, she couldn't help but realize the similarities of the two different men. Betrayal, surgery, screaming, pain.
She tried to make some sense out of these images. That was always the hardest, a bunch of disconnected thoughts and memories and she tried to file them up in her mind. She filed the first images and connected them to the wedding. She looked so beautiful in white. She grunted, she was already trying to file the first, but now the new ones were rushing in. Remy. That was the name, the name in the middle of every memory she had stolen from him.
A groan escaped from her lips when she tried to linger on the name, hands covering her face while trying to ease the sudden accelerated pain. A cult, home, money, heist going wrong. He was dark, so dark that nearly every memory was shaded. So much secret, so much misery.
"Fuckin' Cajun," she muttered, feeling her body also sink to the floor slowly. "Why did ya' have to come at me like that?" Talking to herself, she felt his persona being aggressive in her mind. Tired and panicked, Gambit's psyche was demanding answers and cursing as he tried to find a way out. Before she could do anything about it, the Wolverine forced some sense in the poor guy's psyche. Always backing up for her, that protective Canadian. She couldn't help but feel grateful.
Her small smile was replaced with another frown, as a bunch of other images raced through her mind. Sabretooth, a tunnel, death, a massacre. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself from all these memories that didn't belong to her, but gave her so much pain anyway. "It's not your burden, chére," she whispered to herself, realizing his accent showing up strongly. "Get y'self together."
As much as his memories, his personality was also showing some perks. She did start to feel aggressive, she wanted to get out of this room and she wanted it now. She had to lay low, be on her own. She could manage that, she could get herself out of any situation easily –she had the courage and the talent, all she had to do was avoid being seen. She wanted to get away from a couple of blood red eyes and pale skin. Essex. Thinking of that terrorized her, her anxiety about wanting to run away increased and she found herself panting for breath.
Ain't my debts paid already?
Leaning on one arm, she pulled herself up and aimed at the door. Glancing up at the unconscious body on the floor, she let out a sigh and grabbed a pillow for his head. The last she could do was give him some compassion, although, he was going to curse the day he met her either way when he woke up.
Just as she was about to place the pillow under his head, the pillow began to sparkle in the most beautiful color she had ever seen –the very same color that she had seen Gambit did with his mutation when he exploded things at the empty alley last night. Oh, shit.
"Merde," she yelped as she threw the pillow across the room as far from them and shielded herself and his drop dead body. The pillow exploded as soon as it was thrown, causing a hundred feathers to fly around the room in less than a few seconds. Thankfully, it didn't do much of a damage and it was thrown into the corner which was empty and she probably didn't put so much explosion into the pillow, simply because she didn't know how.
However, she had spent some time on the floor thinking and reviewing his memories that his personality was beginning to fade away. She closed her eyes, trying to think of her own past, her own life and her own memories. Anna Marie, Mississippi, Cody, Xavier's, Logan, Rogue.
She was breathless, a single tear played on the curve of her long eyelashes. She hated this, she hated stealing from people. She hated experiencing the memories of terror and she hated experiencing the memories of joy or intimacy –simply because she didn't have any, she couldn't have any.
Her attention was back on the Cajun's still body, he was out cold with a little frown on his face. She thought he looked cute with the expression. It was clear as the sky that he was a handsome man and she had seen from the vivid memories that women basically were throwing themselves at him. Even herself was willing to do so, despite her inability to touch –she blamed the drinks for that.
His eyelashes began to stir, a groan came out from his pouty lips. From her experience, he should've maybe awaken a couple of hours later. Even though her mutation was merely unknown to her still, she had experienced enough to know a couple of things or two, which was surprising to see that he was waking up.
"Putain de merde," he mumbled and tried to blink his eyes, but failed with another groan. "J'ai mal à la tête." She couldn't understand anything despite her ignorance on French, but his words were slurred as if he was still sleeping. She bit her bottom lip and began chewing on it nervously. Here came the inevitable part, the confrontation. Another person to hate on her for being the Rogue.
Gambit opened his eyes cautiously, head slowly turning to his side to see where he was. After a couple of seconds viewing the other side of the room, he grumbled and turned his attention back to her side –trying to make a sense of everything. His eyes wandered at her sitting up figure and her gloved hands nervously playing with each other and narrowed his eyes with the best effort he could. "What did y' do t' me, p'tite?" he asked finally in a low voice, after a moment of evaluating his situation.
He was lying down still, trying to get his strength back to get up. She let out a sigh and stared at him apologetically. "Ah'm sorry," she whispered in sadness. "For your information, Ah didn't mean to do that."
With a groan, he weighed on his hands, taking some support from them and sat up. He leaned against the chair and stared at her in disbelief. His head was hurting like hell, he was having a hangover before and he thought that was painful –but this, this was entirely a different thing.
"Are you okay?"
He snorted, one hand reached to his temple to give it a little rub. "What did y' do?" he asked again, closing his eyes to ease some pain. From the moment he woke up today, he was having different kinds of pain until this moment. Some fucking way to seize the day.
"Ah had to use my mutation," she informed him honestly, hands waving at him in belief to defend herself in the upcoming argument. "You were goin' to choke me to death, swamp rat, Ah had to do somethin'."
"I'm not a murderer," he noted honestly, which sounded a little more defensive than he had thought. He opened his eyes to look at her facial expressions and being a decent liar he was, he always praised himself on the ability to see through people's bullshit. With such purpose, his red crimson eyes pierced through her face. She looked honest, at last. But when his vision came back to normal, he noticed her eyes and his jaw nearly dropped. "What the actual fuck?" he cocked his head aside, studying her figure from head to toe.
She mimicked his demeanor, looking confused as him. "What?"
"Y' eyes."
Oh.
"That happens... sometimes."
"Do tell," he said, annoyed as he gave her a huff in return, he had so many questions, yet so little answers. He shrugged his other hand in order to get rid of some feathers lying on top of him in discomfort. How the hell everywhere was full of white feathers?
Just as he had a puzzled look on his face, she bit her lip and looked at him sheepishly. "Ah, that," she said, shrugging a little. "Ah accidentally blew up that damn pillow thanks to your powers."
He raised his eyebrows briefly before recalling a memory of her saying something back in the bar, about stealing a mutant's powers as a result of her mutation, though the memory was cloudy. "Y' stole my powers?" he asked, trying to make some sense. "An' m' eyes."
Rogue looked offended. "Stole?" she narrowed her eyes. "Ah'd rather say accidentally borrowed them. You still have 'em, Cajun, don't worry."
He looked relieved at that. Apparently, he was one of those lucky mutants who had such cool powers that they couldn't imagine a life without them. But as for people like herself, some saw these so called gifts as a curse -like Beast, whom tried to come up with a recipe for a homemade cure and ended up looking worse than before, or like Nightcrawler whom had been ashamed of showing himself for long periods. Not everyone was lucky enough to have cool powers, some people did really want to have the cure and here was the luckier people who had astonisging abilities like blowing things up or creating ice and freezing things.
Feeling the need to ask, she blurted out of the blue. "How did you wake up so soon?" Her face looked puzzled, ever since meeting this guy, she had often done that.
Earning another grunt from the Louisiana man, he looked at her again. "What do y' mean?"
"My mutation," she began, trying to find better words to explain. "It usually knocks people out for longer than that, Ah'm just surprised that's all."
"Gambit thinks y' should explain more, p'tite," he replied in an annoyed tone. "If y' wanna do some talkin', maybe y' should start by tellin' 'bout y'self."
She rolled her eyes at him, sighing as she rose from her position to sit at the end of the bed. "Ah told ya," she stated, arms crossed over her chest. "You just don't belive me."
He snorted again, also trying to get up from the floor. "Quoi, the Xavier story?" he let his body onto the chair in a huff. "I jus' don't buy it, chére," he gave her a reckless shrug. "Ever since las' night, y' happened t' be in every damn scenario. The bar, Creed and here -not t' mention y' just knocked me out cold. Too much coïncidence for this Cajun t' believe."
"What the fuck, Remy, do you think Ah've been followin' you around for days?"
Remy.
If she thought he was predatory back when she told him something about Essex some time ago, she would take that word back, now that he was looking straight from the hell itself. His eyes darted at her dangerously as he got up from the chair and blocking her from the doorway. She stood up and put her hands out in a defense position, showing him that she still wore her gloves and was in fact not a threat to him at all. Just as she was about to open her mouth to say something, he launched towards her and pinned her beneath his weight on the bed.
"I'm not gonna ask y' nicely this time, p'tite," he growled, not impressed by her submissive demeanor. "Who are y' and what do y' want from me?"
"Well, you weren't nice before, either," Rogue snapped, struggling again. How the hell this was happening not once, but fucking twice in a single day? And how the fuck did he have stamina to this after the short comatose? She gave him another groan as his hands tightened around hers. "Look," she began, her green eyes shining with anger. "It's my mutation, alright?" she tried again, trying to force some sense into his thick skull. Her vision began to change, as her eyes began to feel less irritaded by the light, she thought she must have been coming back to her normal self.
"Bullshit," he narrowed his crimson eyes at her, realizing her color change in her eyes as her emerald ones blended over her irises again. "How do y' know so much 'bout me?" Okay, she thought he was just being paranoid now. But everything she had to see from his memories, she couldn't really blame him, this whole I-know-your-deepest-secrets thing had to be really terrifying.
"Jesus Christ, Ah'm tellin' you!" she exclaimed, sounding helpless and tired from all this. "It's how Ah know 'bout Essex! It was Creed's memories that Ah absorbed when Ah touched him."
A blank face. Could he be possibly believing her after all?
"Tell me more 'bout it."
"Ask me nicely and Ah will," she narrowed her eyes back at him, but he didn't seem to have any. His grip on her wrists tightened and she yelped in pain. "Let me go, you stubborn swamp snake," she hissed in anger and attempted to kick him underneath, but failed from the beginning, unable to raise her leg under his own.
"What did y' absorb from me?"
"Some memories."
"Like what?"
She didn't seem to fully cooperate with him, which caused him to growl in frustration and try something different. He grabbed her gloved hands in one, freeing his left hand and touching her blouse. The black fabric began to glow with magenta as his eyes watched her face dangerously. "So y' know somethin' 'bout me, chére," he whispered, voice cold and firm. "But did y' know Ah can charge anythin' with kinetic energy t' make them go boom?"
Her eyes widened with utter shock, fear taking over her anger in the very same second. Her chest began to feel hot, the sparkling magenta was beginning to irritate her skin as if something was on fire. "Ah thought you weren't a murderer," she accused, eyes fuming with anger.
Gambit looked taken aback briefly, his face firm and his jaw tight. "I'm not," he muttered, his breath on her face. "But I won't hesitate t' hurt y' if I must."
They exchanged looks for a moment before the glow began to spread through her leather jeans, her whole body was trembling with fever. It was as if someone put loads of hot water bags on her, her chest feeling heavy. "Ah saw disconnected memories," she panted, giving in as she was breathing heavily. "There was a wedding, it didn't end happily ever after. There was… blood, so much blood, and regret," she blurted out, blinking away the panicked thoughts.
His face looked stunned, he even loosened his grip on her wrist. "What else?" he demanded, eyes wandering around her face.
"And there was Creed," she gulped, her chest glowing brighter in pink. "He left you to… die in a dark, cold place. You felt angry, but there was this feeling again," she said, furrowed her eyebrows as she recalled the memory. "So much shame and so much pain."
He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. His eyes began to show something else, an emotion that she couldn't fully understand. Sadness or utter regret, maybe. Seeing as he wasn't acting insane anymore, she wanted to tell him more about the things she got from him.
"Ah saw Essex, doin' some bad things to ya," she lowered her voice, she couldn't help but feel empathetic towards him even though he could probably blow up her chest at the moment. "Ah don't know what, but it didn't feel good," she added, closing her eyes in agony. "It was similar to what Ah absorbed from Creed, he was watchin' some surgery Essex was doin'. He told him somethin' about a ring that does some stuff."
By the time she opened her eyes again, his weight on hers was gone. Blinking blankly, she sat up and first thing she did was checking her blouse –to know whether it was going to explode or not. Her eyes darted towards him, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, leaning against the wall in front of the bed.
Rogue sat up immediately, her back against the bed frame. Her green eyes never left him, seizing every single thing he was doing. He was rubbing his neck and he started pacing around the room. Okay, he was back to acting insane again. She sighed, her goal to hit the roads and discover herself like Logan did was a failure from the start.
Seriously, how the hell did she end up in this situation? More importantly, how come people went to hang out at bars and picked up people that were actually nice? The first time she hanged out at a bar, she met Logan. He was as insane as this guy was, if not so more. And meeting him had been a hell of a road trip for her, that path leading her to the institute. The second time at a bar was last night and she met this lunatic Cajun who had strangled her twice in less than twenty four hours.
Great choice in men, Rogue, way to go.
She looked at Cajun again, he was staring at her, hand on his chin. She raised her eyebrows and her body stiffened at the thought of him jumping at her again –which thankfully, he didn't. But he was staring at her in deep interest. Again, it was hard to understand what he was feeling but she assumed it was… amazement. From pure anger to amazement, she had actually achieved something there.
"What?" she let out, eyes narrowed at his sudden change of behavior, arms crossed over her chest.
He gave her a naughty smile, she was so on point to call him a lunatic. "What do y' think, chére?" he said, a grin appearing on his lips. "Y' wanna join me for a lil' ride?" he asked as he offered her to be a part of his plan, looking proud and confident that he thought of all in a short time.
What a lunatic.
However, Rogue couldn't help but laugh out loud at his change of heart. "Oh, bite me, Cajun," she rolled her eyes shortly after that, shaking her head disapprovingly.
"D'accord, we can arrange that," he smirked and mimicked her gesture in crossing her arms.
"Ah'm not goin' anywhere," she informed him firmly, ignoring his dirty comment and eyes staring at him cautiously. After everything she had been through with this guy, he surely wasn't hoping that she would come with him to god knows where, was he?
"Oh, non, but I insist."
Her posture changed from calm to alerted. Of course, he wouldn't just kidnap her out of the blue, but she didn't actually know what her options were if she didn't accept his offer kindly. "Well," she began, slowly standing up next to the bed. "Ah'm sorry to decline, but crazy people ain't my type."
Gambit gave her a playful pout. "Y' were eager t' come with me earlier, p'tite," he said, shrugging indifferently. "I'm sure our lil' playtime before didn't scare y', did it?" he raised an eyebrow, staring at her as if she was his prey in the woods. His large figure standing in the middle of the hallway towards the door. "'Cause I promise t' be 'n my best behavior from now on."
She looked at the windows, quickly taking a glimpse of the street. The room was located on the higher floors, she couldn't possibly jump from the window. He was blocking her way out from the door, either, so that wasn't also an option.
Fuck, again? As much as she hated her mutation, in dark times like these, it was useful as hell.
Without taking her eyes away from his red irises, her hand reached out to other one to take off the gloves but she failed, as for someone who had just been knocked out by her powers some time ago, he gave her an apologetic smile before launching at her like a puma attacking a gentle deer. But of course, she was not a deer, no. Logan had taught her to be a lioness. She kicked his torso, knowing damn well he was hurt from that spot the night before and causing him to hiss in pain. Instead of actively attacking her, he was blocking her attacks as if he was trying to figure out something. Her punch ended on chest before drawing a circle and kicking him on his back with her right leg.
He grabbed her leg and twisted her body to pin her to the floor, but she resisted. Her gloved hands found his fist, holding it away from her neck carefully, then achieved to wriggle her hand from one glove to touch some skin.
Her mind was racing with theories on how to knock him out again and found a little skin showing, having folded his sleeves earlier, he was showing a small bare skin. Just as she was about to touch him on the spot, his two fingers put some pressure on her neck through her turtleneck blouse. Before she could understand the whole point of this motion, his pressure on her neck hardened and her vision began to fade fast. He was knocking her out.
"Je suis désolé, p'tite," he said, as he sunk her body to the floor gently. "But Gambit thinks y' are rare gem found in the darkest time."
Crimson red, shining brightly.
And everything went black.