Walking into the locker room he felt...lighter. It was an odd feeling, but somewhat pleasant if only for its novelty. If he had to put a name to it he'd call it resolution. Yes, that almost fit. It was a feeling of purpose tied into determination with a big bow of relief on top. And all it had taken was a two minute conversation and an infinitesimal dropping of his guard. Small things, that's all it took sometimes, yet those small things were so hard to remember.

He rolled his shoulders, working the stiffness from sleeping fully dressed in the wrong position slowly out of his muscles. Turning, he stopped at his locker just long enough to strip and grab a towel. If he was going to be here twenty five minutes early he was taking advantage. Rogue was right about one thing, he did smell like a cesspool. A quick glance in the mirror only confirmed that he looked as bad as he smelled; not comforting. What had happened to the suave, sophisticated, well groomed Remy LeBeau he was so used to greeting in the mirror every morning? The mirror didn't answer, and frankly he wasn't sure he wanted it to.

Showering had become a luxury lately, and he was glad to have the group shower all to himself. He could do without the soap dropping jokes for a day. As always he wondered what Xavier had been thinking, with his nearly unlimited finances, putting a group shower in the men's locker room instead of individual stalls; the eccentricities of the rich.

His bare feet slapped against the painfully cold tile and the water was running as fast as he could reach the dial. He sighed and let the stream run over him, not waiting for it to warm up. Being that close to that woman usually necessitated a cold shower on his part anyway, even when he smelled like a barn...a condemned barn, he mentally corrected, full of rotting manure. Actually, now that he thought about it, being that close to any woman was starting to lead to cold showers. What had happened to Remy LeBeau? He felt the water warm as it ran over his shoulders and down his back, just standing and letting muscles loosen. Contentment edged in to join resolution.

The door behind him began to open and slam shut with an irregular rhythm and growing frequency, alerting him that he needed to speed up the shower and get suited up to join the team. Reluctantly he reached for soap and shampoo.

A low whistle caught his attention as the last of the suds flowed down the drain at his feet. It was just enough to make him turn his head. "Those are some righteous battle scars, bro." Nick commented from where he sat, lacing up one boot while the other lay crumpled on the floor between his feet. Remy recognized the beginnings of hero worship in that tone and eyed his back over his shoulder in the reflective section of adamantium surface that hadn't fogged over with condensation.

That was a reaction he didn't need, too many hero worshippers ended up dead. He'd seen it in the Guild too often to allow it to happen here. "Dese?" he shrugged as he turned the water off and reached for his towel. "Ain' no battle scars. Dey a rite of passage dat a stupid boy t'ought would make 'im a better man." The whip marks across his back had indeed faded significantly since his days of banishment, the skin no longer tight enough to restrict movement. In fact, he had almost forgotten they existed. He wrapped the towel securely around his waist and turned to face Nick fully, displaying the three jagged tear marks across his chest that, almost ten years later, still refused to fade. "Now dese are battle scars. Almost cost me my life, my friends, an' my sanity. Dey did cost me my soul, an' dey ain' nothin' to be proud of boy. Scars' jus' a reminder dat y' went an' did somet'in real stupid, an' y' damn lucky dat all y'got is scars." He watched Nick pale and heard him gulp. He knew the marks weren't pretty. His left pectoral looked like a chunk had been ripped out of the lower half of it—probably because it had been. His navel was non-existent, stitched back together by the street surgeon who had sutured the rest of the wound. The lower part of the middle scar had corded outwards from his abdominal wall, distorting what might otherwise have been an impressive six pack. The marks were pink and ugly against his lightly tanned skin. They were proof positive that bad guys like Sabretooth didn't mess around—if they wanted you dead, they'd do their damndest to manage it.

"Wolverine?" Nick whispered, turning to look at the implicated party.

"Hah!" Logan laughed. He pulled on his glove and pointed from Gambit's chest to Ricochet's. "Sabretooth. Lines're too jagged. Turns out I'm the one who saved Gumbo's sorry ass that night." Gambit shrugged, conceding and watched the shorter man turn back and eye him. "Course, if I'da known, I would've let 'em kill ya." The cold glint from his eyes was unmistakable, there was no doubt the Wolverine meant every word of that statement, and Gambit knew it.

Even after knowing he'd been forgiven, the truth still hurt. But he couldn't fault Logan for telling the truth. "You'd've done both of us a favor, mon ami." He looked around the locker room at the rest of the males of the team. The atmosphere had certainly deteriorated along with the topic and all eyes were on him. "But on dat happy note, I t'ink we should be headin' up to the Danger Room. De girls never gon' let us live it down if dey all beat us up dere."

"Sure Cajun," Logan gestured at the towel that still sat around Gambit's hips. "But word of warning, gets mighty drafty up there."

"Don' wanna know how you know dat, mon ami. An' I'm prayin' y' erased de tapes." Logan shot him a feral grin. "Was sort of goin' for de Commando effect. You know, naked, raw power."

"What you do in yer off time ain't none of my business, and I don't care what the ladies call it."

"I will never understand this place." Nick muttered as he passed both of them.

Logan and Remy looked at each other, eyes met and neither could contain their laughter. "Sad t'ing is, I feel de same way." Remy finally managed to choke out. Man, did it feel good to laugh for once.

"Ain' much ta understand, Cajun." Logan slapped him on the back, the last to head for the locker room door. "Ya don't gotta understand family, ya deal with it an' try not to let it get to ya."


The scent of clean towels and soap that permeated the locker room was refreshing. Ororo could think of very few smells that rivaled clean laundry. Her silvery hair had finally grown long enough again that she could contain it all in a high ponytail, the wisps framing her face the only exception. Rogue was the only other person already in the locker room, though it was no secret why. Storm shook her head, it was continually frustrating to watch friend and friend attempt to work things out only to somehow have it all blow up in their respective faces. Yet she knew them both too well; Rogue was too stubborn to give in and Remy was too enthralled by the chase to give up. In a cosmically tragic way they were perfect for each other. Just as she and Logan were not. It was...aggravating.

She stopped and centered. She was in control. "Rogue, you are ready early." Storm commented. She pulled her uniform out of her locker and laid it out on the bench. She was still adjusting to the new uniforms, the black such a stark contrast to her previous white.

Rogue moved out of her way, a habit that Storm often doubted she was even aware of, giving people more space than they actually required. "Needed some words with the swamprat." Storm watched Rogue toss her hairbrush back into her bag and straddle the opposite bench to begin stretching. "Bout time he listened to some reason."

Storm arched an eyebrow inquisitively. "Reason?"

"He's yoah buddy, Storm. Ya can't tell me y'all haven't noticed him walkin' round here like a zombie." Rogue waved her arms wide, "Ah know he ain' sleepin' much. If his bedroom lights go off at all it ain' for more'n a few hours. He goes days without shavin', showerin' or even changin' his clothes. He's been eatin' like a starvin' hog..."

"Have you been stalking him?" Rogue shot her a look that was part scorn, part guilt before opening her mouth to reply. Storm held up a hand to stop whatever rejoinder Rogue was working towards. "Alright. You are correct, he has not exactly been himself lately."

Rogue crossed both arms over her chest and leaned forward, a scowl firmly fixed on her face. "It's killin' him, Storm. He's tryin' to do Scott's job, Xavier's job and Gambit's job all at the same time. Last I checked he's only one person. One damn fool stubborn person."

Storm smirked. "The description sounds familiar."

"Oh no." Rogue's eyes sparked. "Ah'm stubborn alright, but I know I got limits. That fool Cajun hadn' even stopped to think that there's a mansion full o' people right under his nose who could pitch in an' give him a hand." Storm watched Rogue's eyes narrow slightly. "An' you used ta be co-leader Storm. You're his best friend. You shoulda been helpin' him with all this since day one."

Deep breath and center, Storm reminded herself. "You are right." She looked down at the floor for a minute to gather her thoughts. "Remy can be...is...very willful. Do not think I have not tried. He does think he needs to do it all on his own, and I do not know why. I also do not know how to make it clear to him that he can ask for help." She forcefully injected all the warmth she could into her voice, hoping it had the intended effect. "I am glad you were able to get through to him. I have been worried as well."

She watched Rogue visibly loosen and sit straighter, the threat in her stance melted away. "Ah'm just glad he's finally lettin' somebody help him, at this point don't matter who. Hell, I'd hire his ex-wife on if I thought it'd help him get some sleep. Another month an' I swear he'll stroke out if this keeps up." Storm watched a tremor run through Rogue's body at the thought. It was sweet and sad at the same time, seeing how deep the connection between the two ran that one could in fact feel physical pain for the other. It was something Storm was quite sure she would never experience. "Well, Ah'm headin' up. Don't know why Ah gotta do these dumb conditionin' exercises. Remy knows I don't get muscle fatigue."

"An' how's he know that?" Jubilee shouted from the entryway, Kitty laughing behind her. Storm realized belatedly that neither of them had noticed the pair enter, they hadn't been paying enough attention to the time.

"Girl, get yoh mind outta the gutter."

"Oh, come on Rogue." Kitty laughed as she phased through Rogue rather than walking by her, knowing how much it set her on edge. "Remy wishes he knew you didn't get muscle fatigue. You know it, so doesn't everybody else. And we applaud you for not letting that walking hormone hump your leg like a stray dog."

Storm was pretty sure that Rogue was blushing as deep crimson as possible. Rogue turned and opened the door between the locker room and the Danger Room stiffly, still facing the laughing girls. "Kitty, he ain't lookin' to hump me like some stray dog, an' my endurance abilities ain' got nothin' to do with...with..."

"With what, chere?" Apparently, Storm thought, Rogue could blush purple.

She watched Rogue freeze, and turn so slowly she seemed not to move at all. "How much did you hear, swamprat?" It was low and threatening, a tone that would put an animal's hair on end.

"Enough." Storm couldn't see him from where she sat, but she could hear and feel the laughter in his eyes, which she was sure were reflected on her own face. She kept herself focused on the tile floor to avoid inflaming the situation by giving any emotion away. "An' for de record, Kitty, ain' a good idea t'refer ta ya leader as a walkin' hormone cuz he's de one dat's got de authority to make you sit on watch duty for de next month." Rogue went stiff and walked into the Danger Room, assumingly past Gambit, and the door slammed shut behind her.

"She is, like, totally gonna murder us both." Jubilee muttered, her head buried in her locker.

"Eh, it's good for her." Kitty spat. Storm shrugged into her uniform while she watched Kitty do the same. "That girl is so afraid of her own body and everything that goes with it. It's good for her to hear what a guy might want to do with that body. Heck, I know for a fact Hank got a hard on the last time he had to do a physical for her."

That chewed away the very last bit of self restraint Storm possessed. "And how would you know that, Kitten?"

"I was the next one in line. Sitting in the waiting room…it's kinda hard to miss...unless you're Rogue." Kitty laced up her last boot. "Love her like a sister, but she's so naive sometimes it kills me."


"Y'okay, chere?" Remy whispered, standing nonchalantly next to her while the rest of the group assembled.

"Fine."

It had been so forced her lips hadn't even moved away from her teeth. "Talk later?"

"Nothing to talk about." She shifted her gaze over to him briefly before looking back at the wall. "I'm going to kill them."

Remy smirked. "Take it out during de session, don' make me have to punish you for somet'ing stupid Kitty said." He turned toward her, breaking her concentration on the wall. "Dat's an order, Rogue. I catch you or her startin' shit wit' each other outside dese four walls over some joke dat went bad and you'll have a whole new reason to hate me. Clear?"

He thought he saw guilt, fear, and sadness flicker through her eyes for a moment before the hard defiance settled back into place. Though this time it was tempered by restraint. "Crystal, sugah."

"Bien," he gestured toward the rest of the waiting group. "Time we got dis show on de road, eh?" They grouped up and he silently sized up his team before launching into his full blown leader mode. It was a skill that he had despised in Cyclops during his first few years on the team, but had recently come to terms with and grown to almost appreciate, though he still despised how it sounded coming from his own lips. "So like I said earlier, been going over some of the recent readouts from Cerebro and a few of you ain't postin' numbers or meetin' targets like y'should. Ain't gonna name names, ain't gonna point fingers. I also ain't gonna lie to you, dere's no room for slackers on my roster. We go out dere in de field and I'm puttin' all yo lives on de line. I refuse to trust yo' safety to somebody who ain't puttin' in de effort." He briefly scanned the line, made eye contact with most of them and judged they were still listening enough that it was safe to continue. "So we gonna do dis here conditioning exercise. Don' ask how long it's gonna take, cuz dat's up to all of you. De objective is fairly simple: don' get caught. We gonna be usin' de Sentinel program, and we de targets dis time. Simulation ends when one of you gets captured and can't get free after ten seconds. Watch yo' backs, watch yo' teammates. You are all on evasive maneuvers an' dere ain' a lot of hidin' places so don' go holin' yourselves up. Cerebro is trackin' you and I will know. Questions?" He did another brief scan but saw nothing to indicate anything other than anticipation. "Kay, Cerebro cue up Sentinel protocol Alpha 902 Theta 54 please."

"Certainly, Gambit." The computerized voice answered, followed by the flashing lights and the klaxon alarm warning that the simulation was about to begin. In a way, Gambit found himself anticipating the exercise too, not just to burn off what little energy he actually possessed, but to see the reaction from his team. This scenario was his latest work of art. They were used to cities and towns, places with escape routes, obstacles and debris. This was going to be different…there was no place to hide in the desert. The battle conditions were going to be climate controlled. It was already starting to get hot, as the floor beneath him changed to Shi'ar produced slippery sand. A wind picked up and he could tell from the shock on a few people's faces that they had not expected anything like this. But how better to test endurance than in the harshest climate known to man, other than Antarctica of course? He had contemplated using that setting for some time, Antarctica, but ultimately decided it might open too many old wounds that were better left to heal or fester of their own accord.

"Brilliant," he heard Hank mutter from his right before the odd mechanical/hydraulic sound that he could only associate with a Sentinel distracted him from what the team might be doing. Then he ran and watched the rest of them scatter, noticing idly that the scatter pattern wasn't random, which was good. They were thinking.

He found himself grouped with Iceman and Bishop, the former seemed to be having unexpected problems with the training environment and the latter seemed far more intent on attacking than evading. "Good thing this is a running exercise, boss." Iceman shouted. "No humidity, no ice. I'm not good for much besides running at this point."

He nodded and looked over at Bishop, who had hit a standstill and was firing at the incoming bogey. He realized it was coming in too fast. "Don' just stand dere, pup!" Bishop dove and Gambit released a volley of charged cards, aiming for the dune between the Sentinel and its target. The resulting spray gave Bishop enough cover to get out of range before the Sentinel could reach out for him with one of it's grappling tentacles.

"I always forget how freaking huge these things are." Bobby commented from Gambit's right. "We got one more incoming." This one was coming in from due east, the one aiming for Bishop had come from the south. Quickly, he mentally traced the routes the other small groups had taken. His group had been the one to head southeast. The Sentinels were herding them. "Damn smart robots, their pushing us back together." Iceman had apparently reached the same conclusion.

"Targets identified. Mutant Iceman, Mutant Gambit, Mutant Bishop surrender or you will be eliminated." The enormous robot reached one arm toward Gambit and he let loose another volley, removing three of the Sentinel's fingers in the process.

"Forget how charmin' dey are too?"

"If we continue south, but let them herd us back west we should circle around behind some of them." Bishop stated, he had recovered from his roll down another dune and had joined back up with the two.

Gambit nodded as they ran, "Y'good for some cover fire? Keep 'em trailin' us in only one direction? I ain't lookin' t'get sandwiched." Bishop nodded, which was good enough for him. He saw lightning up ahead, that meant Storm was still fighting, and saw a dot moving through the air. Too fast to be Storm, too big to be Rogue, had to be Angel. Personally Gambit liked to keep his fliers spread out, but they always clumped together on him. He filed that away for another time.

Bishop turned and fired on the two Sentinels that were tracking them, one of whom looked slightly angrier than the other for being short a few fingers even though Gambit knew the robots couldn't get 'angry'. A stitch was starting to develop in his left side, and Gambit realized rather belatedly that it would be somewhat embarrassing if this scenario ended because of him. Suddenly a hand was on his arm. "Gambit stop a second!" Iceman said, running a hand over the Cajun's face then reaching for Bishop.

"What are you doing?" Bishop asked, releasing another powerful lazer blast.

"Beautiful sweat!" Iceman laughed, turning the beads into an ice spear. "Hope this works." He turned and threw it at the Sentinel that had gotten too close, lodging it in the knee joint.

"And that will do what?" Bishop again questioned as the three commenced running.

"Structural weakness." Gambit stated, aware now of the Iceman's plan. "Open circuitry in the knee, water can short out the mechanism."

Iceman smiled, "Exactly!" Gambit noticed some concern on Bobby's face when he turned to look in his direction. "You alright Gambit?"

He shook his head. "Fine. Run." He didn't have enough breath to say much more. His side was screaming, his blood was pounding in his ears and his finger tips were numb. He could still only think of how embarrassing it would be if he ended his own training scenario.

Almost instantaneously he found himself running on metal floor instead of soft sand. "Training session over." Cerebro anounced as his team gathered up in the center of the room.

"Who?" He asked the group, glad it only needed to be a one word question.

Eyes glanced around the room until Mystique sauntered forward, her hands on her hips. "I got bored." She shrugged and gave him a seductive smile before sashaying off to the locker room. He tried not to be angry, counted to ten, looked behind him at the blue figure as she passed through the door and counted to ten again. Finally he looked at the session clock, forty two minutes, longer than their typical evasion scenarios. He'd let it slide and not reorder the practice. They looked sufficiently tired.

"War Room, you got twenty minutes." He heard a few groans as most of them turned toward the locker rooms. "And team…" They stopped and he smiled. "Good job out dere."


It was still different…odd…sitting in the leader chair, facing everybody as if he had all the answers. Especially when he knew he didn't, he mostly had questions and few of those were even entirely clear. Gambit toyed with the flash drive, eyeing it dubiously, like it held answers that it was hiding from him. When the last seat was taken he looked up and plugged the stick into one of the ports on his left. "Dis information was obtained last night from a gov'ment source. Most of it has not been translated, so we still not sure what exactly we're looking at, but it is believed that the company represented by dis information is somehow linked to the disappearances we been looking into dese past few weeks." He let that sink in for a minute. "De only information I been able to make any headway with is de financial stuff. The company earnings are off de charts. I got a couple leads working on tracing down where de cash flow is coming from and going to." Technically that was a lie, he hadn't contacted the Guild yet…but that was only because of time constraints. He would be placing a call to Theoren as soon as this meeting was over and hopefully have somebody on the ground in Russia before the end of the day. "In de meantime, dere's been some other information coming through the underground contacts dat I t'ink you should all be aware of. I know we all been hearing about de new Chinese law enforcement program. De street rumor is dat Bolivar Trask be running dat operation." He heard a murmur of reaction around the table hit him from all sides and held up his hands. "Now, I still got proof dat our friend Bolivar is following de letter of his sentence if not de spirit and is staying inside his London apartment. Dis could simply be street hysteria. Until we know for certain, we staying out of it. In de meantime we gon be doin' a lot of Sentinel training programs like we did dis mornin', I don' want us t'get caught wit' our pants down on dis one." He saw a couple grimaces and some satisfied nods. There were also some stone faced acceptances that was the best he could expect from some of his team. It would have to do. "Reason I been checkin' up on our little friend is dat de rumor mill also got activity goin' on in Genosha. Now I know dat ain' highly likely given de current circumstances dere, but better safe den sorry, eh?"

"Current circumstances?" Charlotte piped in and Gambit nodded to Hank who pulled up a virtual schematic of the island that hovered over the round War Table.

"Y' ever hear de sayin' Rome wasn' built in a day?" He asked, pointing at the mass of buildings that would have indicated Genosha's capital. "Magneto hadn'. All dis was built in practically a day. Man sure had a way of playin' God. He used all de iron and other metals in de bedrock of de island, which we all knew." With a flick of his hand the hologram rotated and the city skyline disappeared. "What nobody suspected, mostly cuz we didn' t'ink he'd be dat dumb or crazy, was dat Magnus used all de metal deposits, ripped everyt'ing up to de surface an' left de whole island completely unstable. So when de whole big finale went down…"

Hank cleared his throat and stepped in to the conversation, just as Remy had hoped he would. "I believe what our esteemed leader is attempting to illustrate is that when the force of the aerial attack impacted the island there was not enough structural support left for the ground to support both the attack and the existing structures, causing the island as a whole to virtually implode." Remy watched Hank scan the table and take in the still blank looks of his teammates. "Ahem, big bomb hit island make big boom. Buildings go bye-bye. Man no can live on island no more."

"Gotcha!" Jubilee piped up from the back of the room.

Remy had to laugh at the injured look on Beast's face, being forced to resort to such language. "Exactly, so it ain' too likely dat dere's much goin' on in dat neck of de woods. Just de same, if de rumor mills don' quiet down we may be makin' a bit of trip out dat way."

"How long until you have those files translated?" Storm asked from his left.

"Hopefully a day or two, given some help." To her credit, Rogue didn't flinch at the comment. "Now about today's session, forty two minutes ain' bad. However…" He scanned the room briefly, eyes settling finally on Mystique who had taken out a pocket knife to clean her nails as if she hadn't a care in the world. "Raven." She glanced up briefly, Remy knew it was the best he was going to get. "Y' pull another stunt like dat one back dere an' I'm packin' y'off to Cable faster'n you can blink."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don' tempt me Raven. Y'very lucky I got room and patience for y'. After de stunt you pulled wit Creed you just plain lucky t'be breathin'. So if y'bored I'm sure Nathan'd be more'n happy to keep you entertained…indefinitely." She eyed him callously, the yellow irises almost impossible to read if you didn't know her well. "Dere are much worse fates den death, and I will make sure you find one given de opportunity if you keep dis shit up." He looked away, dismissing her as unimportant before she could turn the chastisement into an argument that would only end with him looking bad.

"As for de rest of you, I'll be handing out individual reports when I get a chance to look over the readouts. Overall, y'did good. Fliers…" He looked over toward where Rogue and Angel were sitting, knowing he already had Storm's attention. "I know I said dis before, y'gotta keep y'selves separated. Dere's a lotta sky up dere, it can't be dat tough. Y' make a much more tempting target all bunched together than y'do if you keep y'distance. Telepaths…" He looked over toward Betsy and Charlotte. "Either neither one o'ya decided to link me into the communication network or y' both just plumb forgot to make one." Betsy nodded once, tensely and Charlotte looked down to the floor, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Dat's what I thought. We dealin' with robots, dey can't 'hear' you. Next time don' forget." He scanned the remainder of his team briefly. "Questions?" No response came, and nobody looked like they were holding anything back. He nodded. "Den it looks like y'all got de rest of de day off, 'cept for your daily assignments o'course. Soon as I know more, you'll know more. Dismissed."

As a group they stood and filtered out, most heading toward the upper levels but some heading back toward the locker rooms to finish washing up. Rogue lagged behind, waiting with him in the room until everybody else had left. "Y' got somet'in' t'ask me, chere?"

"That was pretty cold, sugah." She leaned forward across the back of her chair, leaning toward him but keeping her distance. It was enough to drive a man crazy.

"Which part? You groupin' up on me or feedin' Mystique to de wolves?"

Rogue rolled her eyes and Remy could see her put her hackles up. It was fascinating the way her body would tense, shoulders rise, eyes narrow, hands ball into fists and her chin would jut just a tiny bit forward. It was her fighter stance, and boy did he know it well. "Ya know she does it just t' git you all riled up. Ya don't even know for sure that she was the one that ended that training session."

Remy nodded. "Y'right. Fact I'm pretty sure it wasn't her."

Rogue huffed, it sounded like an angry freight train and if he didn't step carefully Remy would have that train come barreling down on him…again. "So why'd you say that stuff then?"

He slowly unfolded himself from his chair and rose to his full height, stepping around the table so there was nothing between them but air. He had found with Rogue it was just as important to physically stand your ground as it was to do so philosophically. He was pretty sure it had to do with her lack of physical contact, but the girl was almost inept at reading the subtle nuances of body language. Sitting in a chair, regardless of his expression or how he was sitting would be interpreted by Rogue as him dismissing her as not worth the time. Making his intentions so blatant was something that had taken him time to adjust to, being trained so long in subtlety. "De simple fact dat she took responsibility for it, an' acted like it didn' matter, in front of de whole team…Rogue t'ink about what dat does to morale for a second. I got young kids bustin' dere butts in dat room to try and prove dey got what it takes to be part of dis team. I can't have one person draining morale and spoilin' dere efforts by being blatantly insubordinate every chance she gets. De rules gotta apply to everyone, and everyone gotta put in de same effort or else dis whole t'ing goes up in smoke."

"Did ya mean it?" Her shoulders had fallen slightly, her eyes were no longer narrowed. He was pretty sure he was back in the safe zone.

"Bout sendin' her out to Cable?" Rogue nodded and he sighed, running a hand through his hair he looked down at the floor. "Tween you and me? I can't afford to send her away. Good Lord knows she's gon be de death of me, but she's good. Jus' too bad she knows it. But dat stays 'tween you an' me. Mystique can sniff out an idle threat a mile away, and I gotta have somet'ing to hold over her to make sure she toes the line."

Rogue sighed. "Ah know she drives ya crazy. She drives everyone crazy. But she's still my Momma, Remy. You, more'n everybody else here, has ta learn to live with her."

"Why's dat, chere?" He grinned, then nodded. "Y'right. But nobody gets special treatment. Including you."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, but this was the mock glare. This glare he could live with, in fact it made her look damn good. "What is that supposed to mean, swamprat?"

"Means dat you promised to give your leader some help wit' a certain project…so you best be in my office in two hours. Be an extra day on cleaning detail for every minute you're late." He decided to go for the gold and tapped her on the nose with one gloved finger before she could react. The look on her face was worth the risk. With that he smiled and walked out of the room leaving a fuming Rogue behind.