Standing in front of the mirror, Rogue had to admit Mercy had great taste. After a bit of back-and-forth, Mercy had pulled out a silk burgundy tank top with a draping neckline trimmed in lace. She paired it with black shorts, Rogue's boots, and long evening gloves. Other than the low neckline—good Lord the Swamp Rat was gonna love that— the outfit wouldn't have been that different from something Rogue would have worn. Except Mercy had traded out her dark-colored stockings for nude ones leaving Rogue painfully aware she was showing a whole lotta leg.
When she tried to change Mercy's mind about the shorts, the blonde girl just smiled innocently and shrugged, "Mais, it's too hot. You'll die in dis heat, and then Remy'll blame me."
"You'll die in this heat," Rogue mimicked at her reflection. She hadn't forgotten it was Mercy who had given her Remy's shirt without warning. Clearly, Mercy was trying to play matchmaker.
Speaking of matchmakers, Rogue's phone dinged for what felt like the forty-fifth time in fifteen minutes.
Rogue had made the mistake of texting Kitty to let her know everything was going well and, in a show of poor judgment, had informed her about running into Remy and going out with him tonight. Not only had Kitty been texting her every few minutes asking for updates on her outfit choices, she must have told half the Mansion because all the other girls were texting Rogue in a group chat asking for details and trying to give Rogue advice.
At least Logan doesn't know yet, Rogue thought as she scrubbed her forehead, trying to remove the memory of Tabby's newest man-winning tips. Another round of dings made Rogue roll her eyes.
Well, when in Rome.
Snapping a photo in the mirror, Rogue sent it to the group text, which set off an immediate barrage of heart-eye and fire emojis. Snorting to herself, Rogue looked in the mirror. Well, she did look good, and it would be nice to put that Swamp Rat off-balance for once. Blowing her reflection a kiss, Rogue turned on her heel and sashayed out of the room.
Remy was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs fiddling with his cards. At the sound of her footsteps, he turned toward her, his jaw dropping along with the cards in his hands. Across the room Henri and Theo guffawed, enjoying their relative's dumbstruck look. Rogue was suddenly feeling mighty pleased with herself and Mercy for their outfit choices.
Remy knelt to pick up his cards, but his eyes didn't leave her, or more specifically, didn't leave her legs. By the time he had finally managed to drag his eyes back up to hers, Rogue was sure the shorts were a good idea. Suddenly it seemed very warm in the house.
Henri seemed to have gotten himself under enough control to walk over to the pair. Smacking Remy on the back, he looked at Rogue, "We might have to keep you around, Petite, if you dis good at shutting up mon frere. Don't think he's been struck dumb by the sight of a femme since he was thirteen."
Remy glared at his brother and Rogue snickered. Remy turned back to her and offered her a winning smile, "You look beautiful, mon cœur." Offering his arm, he swept them both out of the room before his brother could open his mouth again.
They took Remy's motorcycle into the Garden District and to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Vera's. Seated in a back corner booth slightly away from the rest of the crowd, Rogue observed the room. The room they were in was towards the back of the house and featured dark damask wallpaper covering the walls with a large chandelier positioned in the center of the room.
"What's good to eat here?" Rogue asked, picking up her menu. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the prices.
"It's all good, but the étouffée is some of the best in the city. The gumbo's good too, but not nearly as good as Tante's." Remy replied, scanning his own menu.
"No jambalaya then?" Rogue teased.
"No. None of that here," Remy chuckled and shot her a boyish grin.
The waiter came with their drinks and took their order, shrimp étouffée for Rogue and short rib boudin for Remy, before leaving the two of them alone again.
"Rogue," Remy started and then stopped. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts for a moment before starting again, "I want to tell you again that I'm sorry for what happened two years ago. I wish I could just go back and bring you here instead."
"I told you, Sugah you did the wrong thing for the right reason," Rogue said stirring her drink.
"Humph, some reason."
Rogue stopped stirring her drink and looked up at that, "What happened after I left?"
"Same old same. Thieves hating Assassins. Assassins hating Thieves. It was getting better for a while, but since the killings started, things have been worse than ever. Communication is so bad that Jean-Luc and Marius have to liaise through the Runners to keep things from getting worse." Remy leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a playing card from his pocket.
"Who are the Runners exactly?" Henri had mentioned the name earlier at breakfast, but Rogue still didn't know who they were.
"They another Guild," Remy evaded. At Rogue's unimpressed stare, he gave an abashed smile before continuing, "Mais, dey are. They deal in gun running mostly, but they import other things too-"
"Like drugs?"
"Non, non. Not dat," Remy raised his hands, "None of the Guilds are involved with drugs. Or prostitution, for dat matter. That would be the Vice and Whores associations. They're not Guilds in their own right, so they don't have designated territories in the city like we do."
"What's going on with the murders?"
Remy sighed heavily, looking around the room, "About a month ago, one of our apprentices, Sabine, turned up dead in the bayous. Her throat had been slit, and six reverse pentacles carved into her chest," Rogue frowned in confusion. Seeing her face, Remy explained, "De six of pentacles card in a tarot deck stands for sharing and generosity, but in reverse, it means unpaid debts."
"Do you think it has to do with saving Jean-Luc during Marti Gras?" Rogue asked.
"Not sure about that. It was more than two years between saving Jean-Luc and Sabine's murder. Plenty of time for other fights to arise." Remy said pausing to take a sip of his bourbon, "Anyway, a week ago, another apprentice turned up dead, a fille named Cecile. She had a reversed King of Swords carved into her, which stands for weakness."
"But now an assassin girl is dead?"
"Oui. Last night, she was found near Blood Moon Bayou with her throat slit and five swords carved into her, which stands for winning at all costs."
"Well, that throws a wrench into the idea that it was the Assassins, doesn't it?" Rogue asked, leaning back in her seat, mulling over what Remy had said.
"Not so much. The Assassins are a Guild, but they aren't above killing one of their own to try to pin the blame on someone else if it's to their advantage, couillons." Remy muttered the last part under his breath before taking another sip of his bourbon.
"Someone else like the Thieves Guild," Rogue guessed.
"Exactement."
As the waiter approached with their food, Remy broke off the conversation. The smell of thick, rich sauce and seasoned shrimp hit Rogue's nose as her mouth began to water. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes and let out a moan of pleasure as the spicy sauce hit her tongue. Opening her eyes, she saw Remy watching her with rapt attention, eyes sparking red.
"What?" she asked her face heating up. Grinning, Remy stuck a forkful of short ribs in his mouth to keep from answering. Chewing slowly, he looked Rogue over.
"Nothing Cher. Just thinking that I owe Mercy a thank you for dat outfit. She likes jewelry," he mused, "maybe I'll pick her up the Hope Diamond next time I'm in Washington, D.C."
"Oh Lord," Rogue rolled her eyes at him laughing, "You going to get her a piece of jewelry every time she dresses me up?"
"Bien sûr! Seems like a fair trade to me."
"And what do I get for wearing the clothes, huh?" Rogue propped her chin on her hand and grinned at him, fluttering her eyelashes for effect. The glow in Remy's eyes flared into embers.
"Mais, I'll give you whatever you want, Cher" Remy leaned towards her, smirking.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Great," Rogue leaned back against the upholstered back of her chair and smirked at the Cajun man in front of her, "I have some boxes that need moving at Irene's house that I didn't get to before your daddy kidnapped me." Spearing another shrimp with her fork, she popped it in her mouth.
Remy blinked, then chuckled before returning to his own dinner, "Dat was real mean, Cher."
After dinner, Rogue reassured Remy he didn't need to move anything. Still, he insisted on walking her back to Irene's house, which was only a few blocks away.
"After all, what type of gentleman would I be if I didn't," asked Remy with an overly gallant bow for effect.
"Gentleman?" Rogue sassed back.
The sun had set, and most of the heat from the day had burned off, leaving the evening pleasantly warm. Rogue leaned her head back, letting the breeze play with her hair as the smell of jasmine hung heavy in the air. Somewhere in the night, a jazz band was playing. A flash of movement from the rooftop caught Rogue's eye.
"What was that?" Rogue asked. Remy glanced up, following her gaze.
"Thieves. Most of the time, we travel by rooftop,"
"Why?"
"It's easier and, in some areas of the city, it's safer." Remy shrugged.
"I thought the Garden District was your main base of operation in the city," Rogue frowned.
"It is, but like I said, it's easier." Remy frowned at the rooftops across the street. Rogue turned and tried to follow his line of sight but didn't see what Remy was glaring at. Remy broke his gaze and took Rogue's hand, tugging her down the street.
"The Guild is probably keeping an eye on us," Remy turned and gave her a crooked smile, "Probably afraid I'd steal you away."
"You wish, Swamp Rat," Rogue scoffed halfheartedly. She could read between the lines, though. The Thieves, specifically Jean-Luc, didn't want her to leave town and were keeping an eye on them. They probably weren't worried about her getting out of town on her own undetected, but Remy knew this city like the back of his hand.
The Thieves in the Garden District were probably reporting their movements back to Jean-Luc—to say nothing about the street cameras she saw Emil and Remy accessing last night on the laptop. A feeling of claustrophobia took hold as Rogue began to realize how far the Thieves' reach was in this city. How Remy had been able to put up with it for so many years? Maybe that was why he took the job with Magneto.
Rogue sucked in a breath, trying to clear her head, and Remy turned, eyeing her. He seemed to understand what she was thinking because he gave her a smile, "Relax, Cher. Let's just enjoy the evening. We were having fun, non?"
In spite of herself, Rogue did have a lot of fun at dinner—she refused to call it a date—and was sad that the evening was ending.
As they stepped onto the porch, Rogue gave him a small smile, "Would you like to come in?" Seeing a grin start to stretch across the Cajun's face, her face began to heat again as she backpedaled. "I mean to see the house."
"Sure ya did" Remy's grin turned wolfish. Rogue felt like her face was about to burst into flames any second. She had no idea until now that a grin could be that sinful.
Rogue rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about dirty-minded Swamp Rats. Turning towards the door she tried to will the blush from her face before they got inside and focus on unlocking the door simultaneously. Her key missed the latch twice. She could feel Remy's eyes burning into the side of her face. Finally, she got the door open. Rogue walked Remy through the house, pointing out the main rooms.
"Some of those paintings are worth a small fortune," Remy observed.
"Yeah," Rogue snorted, "I think I've heard that somewhere." At the confused look on the Cajun's face, Rogue explained his psyche giving her the same advice the day before. The tour came to an end as the pair entered the living room.
"Dis place is real nice, Cher."
"Thanks. I came here before when I was little. Irene brought me here during Marti Gras to watch the parade routes. It was a lot of fun." Rogue smiled at the thought of trying to catch beads from the floats that went down the street and the jazz bands. It felt like a lifetime ago.
"And what's dis?" the Cajun man cried in delight as he snatched something from a shelf peering down at it. Rogue looked at the framed photo he held in his hands and groaned. It was a picture taken of her and Irene when she was about six years old. Her hair was a curly mess and she was wearing overalls giving the camera the biggest gap-tooth smile.
"That's none of your business Swamp Rat. Give it back," she demanded, holding out a hand.
"Oh no! Dis is worth more den gold." Remy danced away from her holding the picture above his head.
"I'm not playin' Cajun. Give it back," Rogue swiped for the picture frame, but Remy dodged her.
"I don't think so, Cher."
"Give it!"
"Non!"
Rogue lunged for the photo, but Remy snatched her arm and pulled her to him, slipping his other arm around her waist. Leaning in, his lips barely brushing the shell of her ear, he murmured, "How 'bout a trade, hein? A kiss for de photo?"
Rogue felt her breath catch as she leaned back to stare up at him. "My mutation—"
"Maybe it's worth it, non?"
Rogue could barely breathe as Remy's face started to lower towards her. Anticipation coiled in her chest. Never in her life had she wanted something so badly. Suddenly the image of Remy lying unconscious outside Blood Moon Bayou after accidentally touching her flashed in front of her eyes. In a panic, Rogue's arms flew up as she pushed away from him hard enough to topple one of the piles of books behind her.
Glancing down to avoid having to look at the handsome man in front of her who made her want to do things she really shouldn't, Rogue's eyes fell on one of the fallen books.
There was an envelope sticking out of it.
Stooping to pick up the envelope, Rogue saw her name written on the outside in Irene's handwriting. Looking up, Remy was staring at the envelope too. Confusion written across his face.
Breaking the seal and giving the envelope a shake, three tarot cards slid out into Rogue's waiting hand — a six of pentacles, a King of swords, and a five of Swords. Another smaller card also slid from the envelope fluttering to the floor. Remy stooped down and handed it to her silently. Rogue glanced at it. It was a business card for Madame LaCour, Tarot Reader. Flipping the card over, Rogue felt her stomach clench. There in Irene's neat handwriting were the words Be Careful.
"Cher," Remy started slowly, eyes tracing the four cards in her hands, "I think I should stay here."
XOXOXOXOX
Next Chapter: Rogue meets the Runners Guild, and Emeric is acting oddly.
Fun Fact: Couyon (pronounced: coo'-yawn) is a Cajun term that means fool or crazy person, normally in an affectionate way. Couillon (also pronounced: coo'-yawn) is a vulgar term for bastard. Welcome to the French language...good luck everyone.