9/24 Instance: Me and Mo

[fourpawsonthefloor]

Timeline a day after exchanging pleasantries

Monet: Monet kept her eyes busy as she strolled along at a liesurely pace, taking in the landscaping around the school. It wasn't all that bad here and it was far away from her brother. Though... Also, far away from her father and sisters. She frowned then took a deep breath, a small smile growing at the smell. It was quite pleasant here.

Monet: Her eyes were up at the stars when she heard the soft thunk of wood under her shoes. She looked down, a bit surprised to find a dock under her feet and a house to the side of her. Oh. Hmm. She walked to the end of the dock, sitting and taking her shoes off so her toes could brush the water as she swung her legs. This was a nice spot.

Remy: He looked over at the noise of foot steps watching as the girl settled and made herself at home. Well...so much for brooding. She'd not seen him yet, tucked as he was in the shadows in a chair while he watched the water, so he cleared his throat to let her know she wasn't alone.

Monet: Monet nearly jumped at the sound, but was able to keep it under control as she slowly turned to face whoever was in the shadows a bit away from her. "Hello?" She squinted and tried to see, catching a glimmer of red from the eyes. Oh, that was... Oh, what was his name? "Forgive me, I've met so many people, who were you again?" She stood up and brushed her pants off, putting her shoes back on.

Remy: "Remy. An', yeah, we kinda decended on y' like a pack, didn't we?" He leaned forward a bit on his elbows. "Y' don' have t' get up. Make y'rself at home. It's nice dis time of night."

Monet: "No, it's alright, really. I hadn't known anyone else was out here. I hadn't meant to intrude." She started to go, then slowed to look at him properly, "Why are you out here by yourself, if you don't mind my asking? Where is your girlfriend?"

Remy: He blinked. Girlfri...oh. "Rahne's inside. She's jus' a really good friend an' she needs t' rest. - she comes out sometimes, but tonight I jus' wanted t' think, y' know? It ain't no problem though. Lake's free." He gave her a half grin and shrugged. "Dis is where I live too. So it's a step away."

Monet: "Ah. I see. Well, then I'll leave you to think then. Enjoy." She looked over her shoulder at the lake, then walked back up the dock, pausing to look at his house. Damn it all, now she had questions. Why must she be interested? "Remy, are you not a student here?"

Remy: "Oui." He had thought she was ready to go, but evidently not. At least she wasn't being so standoffish this time. "Last year. Graduate soon."

Monet: "Mmm. Must be nice. Getting to leave." She crossed her arms, still looking up at his house, "Why live here then? Doesn't everyone else live in the mansion?"

Remy: "Well, ain't plannin' t' leave actually. Was thinkin' of takin' a job here." He nodded to the house. "Well...it was jus' easier dan d' school. My wife an' me fixed dis place up. I have a son, so it was easier dan tryin' t' live in a dorm, y' know? Cryin' baby doesn't fit in wit' things."

Monet: "Ah. So you have a family then. How... Delightful?" She wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. "A job at the school? Doing what?" Monet looked him over and smirked, "Teaching a course in fake chivalry 101?"

Remy: "Chivalry? What makes y' think dat?" Ahh, here came the claws. "Didn't think I'd been ridin' any white horses around y' at all." His grin got really wide. "Y' know...I might be y're teacher. Dat'd be interestin'."

Monet: "The low bow yesterday afternoon. I'm almost positive you don't do that for every woman you meet. Therefore, making it fake or all too real, making it laughable." She scoffed, "Oh, that would be more than interesting, dear."

Remy: "I wasn't really at my best dere, I gotta admit. I'm sorry dat I made fun of y' so much." He leaned back into his chair. "So...why d' attitude?"

Monet: "It's alright. I'm quite used to that kind of treatment." She looked away from his house back to him, "I'm also quite sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

Remy: He snorted. "D' whole 'I'm better dan y'' stuff. Prissy, y' know? Like y're dippin' y're feet in dirt." He shrugged. "Guess sharin' a room has got t' be interestin' for y'."

Monet: "Believe me, this place is better than some other places I've been." She gave a graceful shrug, "It's not all that bad actually. Ju is not very involved in 'making fun of me', and she seems to be captivated by that computer of hers, so I think we shall get along fine."

Remy: "I'm glad y' like d' situation den. An' oui, she's quiet an' nice." His interest went up. "So, y've lived it rough? Does dat mean rough as in really rough or as in 'I had t' stay at d' travel lodge once'?"

Monet: "That's part of those secrets you said everyone has." She gave him a flat look and finally decided to go back to sit on the dock, crossing her legs indian style instead of draping them over this time.

Remy: "Well y' brought it up, not me. Dat's fine though." He tapped his fingers on his chair, catching the glint of light off his ring and sighing again. "Y' know...people here are kind. Y' might wanna give dem a fair chance. If y' isolate dem dey'll go for y're throat like a pack of wolves."

Monet: "And I'll fight them off like my own pack of wolves. They do not scare me." She looked over to him, "What's bothering you? Shall I leave like I had been intending on?"

Remy: "Nah. It's alright." The words were flippant but the tone was tight. He rummaged in his pocket instead, bringing out a small joint. "So...jus' how prissy are y'? Y' gonna have a heartattack if I smoke?"

Monet: "Go right ahead. It doesn't bother me any." Monet waved a hand at him and looked over the water. "I don't have a heartattack about anything."

Remy: "Non?" He found his lighter and flicked it, holding the wavering flame to the bit of paper and leaf. "So y' seen it all den? Dat'll serve y' good here." His eyes turned back to her as he plucked it from his mouth and exhaled. "C'mon. D' way y' act an' talk? I bet y're very worldly, but I'm thinkin' some things here might surprise y'."

Monet: "I didn't say I'd seen it all. Just that I wouldn't have a heartattack about anything." She narrowed her eyes and looked over at him, "There is nothing wrong with the way I talk and act, so you can just keep your comments to yourself, demon."

Remy: That amused him. He grinned wider. "Oh oui? Demon is d' worst y' can come up wit'? An' c'mon. D' way y' talk? Y' gotta wonder how high dat stick goes up y're ass." That reminded him of Scott and he laughed. "Oh Dieu, here we go again."

Monet: Monet fixed him with a flat stare, "No, it's not the worst I could come up with, I just thought it would be nice to follow my own advice at least." She stood up and crossed her arms as she faced him, "Would you like to find out, m'sieur, just how high up I can put one in yours?"

Remy: "Oooh, an' y're kinky." He took another slow drag, blowing it out at her. "But seriously, y' gotta understand dat we got a mix of people here, but we get all along. Dat means y' gotta learn t' get along wit' d' peasants an' all. Who're anyways? Like...y' some sorta european third generation duke's bastard or y' jus' rich?"

Monet: Monet waved the smoke away from her face. "Apparently you more than me," she crossed her arms again. "I am no one's bastard, Remy. And my father is a European ambassador. Why do you care anyway?"

Remy: "Curiousity killed d' cat, neh?" He settled deeper into the chair. "But figured y' had t' be high brow. Ambassador." He sighed. "An' I was bein' rude again. My apologies, petite. I keep bein' an asshole for some reason. Maybe I need dis more dan I thought." He flicked the joint and took another drag off of it.

Monet: "Not sure if I accept the apology this time. You're going to have to work for it." She turned away and went to sit on the edge of the dock, pulling her shoes off again to feel the water with her toes. "Are you not normally an asshole then? Because you seem to be the poster boy and that Jason fellow must be your apprentice."

Remy: He just smoked thoughtfully for a moment. "Well. Guess it depends on who y' ask. Scott thought so his first year an' a bit here." He looked her over, thinking. "I guess it's a kinda thing with me. Like a flag t' a bull. Scotty was really aloof an' stuck up y' know? He wasn't really all dat rich or anythin' - well off but not rich. He had somethin' t' prove. He's mellowed out since. I guess y' do d' same thing. I hope t' fuck y' aren't another long lost relative though."

Monet: "Scott?" Monet thought through all the people she had met, not recalling a Scott. She glanced at Remy with a small smirk, "Why? The asshole want to hit on the bitch?" Her face went flat and she looked back at the water, "Or does the prospect of being a part of my high-class family scare you shitless?" She grinned again, the thought actually amusing.

Remy: "He's my cousin. Been busy as hell though, so haven't seen him a lot lately." His face went a little flat. "I'm married, petite. An' dere ain't a thing about y' dat scares me." He said the last bit cockily, finishing the joint and flicking it out into the water.

Monet: "That hasn't stopped many men before," she watched as the joint flew out and landed with a small sound then looked down as the ripples came to her toes. "Of course not. I don't try to be scary. That would just be no fun at all."

Remy: "Alright den. Dere's nothin' about y' dat intimidates me." He cocked his head. "Dat better? Y're on a level playin' feild here. We're all jus' a bunch of mutants lookin' t' do what we need t' do in life."

Monet: "And what you need to do in life would be letting a female friend stay at your house with you? Does your wife approve of this, or is she out of town?" She smirked at him.

Remy: "I told y' Rahne's a friend. She needs a hand, oui? Dere ain't nothin' t' be nit pickin' about dat." He glanced away, back over the water. "D' y' have friends?"

Monet: "Needs a hand, hmm? What kind of hand are you talking about?" She shrugged, "Why should that matter?"

Remy: "She's jus' in a hard place y' know? An' dat's what y' do. Y' help friends. Or do y' know?" He frowned. "Not havin' anyone t' care about y' is a very big deal, petite."

Monet: "I have family," she replied simply. "I care about them a great deal. ...Most of them."

Remy: "Family is good. Friends don' hurt either. Guess y're prickly parts keep y' from havin' many?" He studied her moonlit face. "How about a boyfriend?"

Monet: "Prickly parts?" That earned him a small laugh that died rather abruptly. "No. No boyfriend." She met his eyes, "Why are you asking all of these questions?"

Remy: "Jus' tryin' t' figure y' out. Why. Am I offendin' y'? We can talk about d' stock market or global warmin' if y'd prefer."

Monet: "No. I just didn't think you would be the type to ask so many questions. I had assumed you would be the type to make assumptions and make off-hand and uncalled for comments."

Remy: "Oh? So y' think I'm an asshole den?" He was still feeling exceptionally mellow so he just grinned. "A devil asshole! Or can y' come up wit' a better name dan dat?"

Monet: "If I remember correctly, which I do, I called you a demon. And you're the one who said you were the asshole first." She just stared at him for a moment before looking back at the water.

Remy: "Oh right!" He snapped his fingers. "Ok. So what else am I?" He put his feet up on the nearby railing. "I mean...dere's gotta be a name dat y' could assign t' someone dat's like dat. I say asshole y' say....what?"

Monet: "Remy," she replied tartly a grin cracking on her face. "This could turn into a fun game."

Remy: He laughed. "Callin' names? Sure. Want me t' start or y'?"

Monet: She cocked an eyebrow, "That wasn't what I had meant to imply, but fine. Je jure, vous devez être le plus grand bâtard que je sais, épargne mon frère."

Remy: "Really? I'm takin' it he's d' one dat y' meant when y' said y' got along wit' most of y're family. He'd be d' exception, neh? Though, if it matters, I ain't a bastard either. My folks were married, for what it's worth." He grinned as he thought. "Y' know...y' may be a bit spoilt an' come off as warm as a witches tit, but y' still are a girl. So dis isn't as much fun as it was wit' Scotty. Feel like it's wrong."

Monet: "Not in the literal sense of the word you're not, if that's the case. I have to tell you though, I've not heard that one. 'Warm as a witch's tit.' Interesting." She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Must we inform your wife of our banter then so you don't feel so wrong about it?"

Remy: "Well it's normally cold. I was bein'..." he frowned. "Guess I wasn't bein' mucha anythin' but stoned." He stared out over the water again. "Non. We don'."

Monet: "Now that one, I have heard." She crossed her legs at the ankles, "Stoned is a good way to be sometimes. If you have the right reasons." Monet regarded him coolly, "Then what makes it feel wrong?"

Remy: "What makes what wrong?" He looked back at her confused. "Oh! No, I meant insultin' y'. I don' like treatin' women bad. I mean, I can be a bit of a jerk, but we all gotta draw our lines somewhere, neh?"

Monet: "Apparently your line is a bit fuzzy if you decided to treat me the way you have been since I got here." She shrugged, "However, I don't mind it at all. I find it rather... amusing, actually."

Remy: "Oui, I was startin' t' get d' impression dat y' like t' spar a little an' sharpen y're nails on skin." He flicked his fingers restlessly. "An' be my guest. It won't get y' far, petite, but y' can do whatever y' need t'."

Monet: "Be your guest for what? 'Sharpening my nails on your skin'?" She gave a grin, her eyes sparkling just a touch, "I thought you said you were married." He was fun to play with.

Remy: He rolled his eyes. "Non. T' try it on dem." He jerked a thumb to the main house. "Dey'll eat y' alive." A little wicked smile curled the end of his mouth up. "Better yet, try it on Jean-Paul."

Monet: "No one could eat me alive." She smirked, "Jean-Paul? Tell me where to find him." After a small pause, she looked back out at the water, turning her face fully away from Remy. This was tiring, even though it was insanely fun. "Would you happen to have any more marijuana with you," she asked casually.

Remy: He grinned at her and held a hand out, flicking a joint out from between his fingers like a genie at the last minute. "Y' could stand t' chill out a little, fille."

Monet: "Mmm. Magic." She rolled her eyes and took the joint, holding her hand out for the lighter. "Why in the world would I want to chill out? It is all too much fun harrassing people like you." Oh. She had said that out loud... And she wasn't even smoking yet. Joy of joys this would be fun...

Remy: He huffed a breath of amusement. "Oh? An' people 'like me' are what?" His eyes rolled over to her.
Monet: After she had taken a small drag and blown it out, she pocketed the lighter. "Answer that yourself. I bet you could do it fairly easily, diable."

Remy: "Well I'm many things. D' son of crack addicts, a father, a vagabond, a womanizer..." He shrugged. "A lot of my life is extremes. Depends on what one y're wantin' t' pick. I'm guessin' y'll be goin' for d' groin though." He frowned at her. "An' I'm a thief. As y' are. Give me my lighter back."

Monet: "Huh. Well, I'll make a note to applaud your wife when I meet her on being able to stay married to you if you truly are those things. Besides the father part, of course. Unless you are in fact, a horrid one." She cut her eyes to him and took another drag, "No."

Remy: His frown lines deepended and he flicked his fingers. "I'm a good enough papa. An' d' rest are in d' past...as much as dey can be. Now give me dat back." Not that it was anything really spectacular, but it was the point.

Monet: "I told you..." She met his eyes and blew a puff of smoke in his direction, "No." Monet looked back at the water, reflecting the stars like diamonds. "If they are in your past then you wouldn't have said 'I'm' you would have said 'I was'. Am I correct?"

Remy: He thought about tossing her off the deck, but she could fly, so probably wouldn't work. Sighing, the fight went out of him and he sagged back into the chair. "Y' can't run from d' past completely. No matter how much y' try, it's always a part of y' even if y' don' do d' same things anymore." He lifted a brow. "So what are y'?"

Monet: "A woman," she grinned and leaned back on her hand, "a sister, a daughter, a student, and a mutant. Would you like to try your answer again?"

Remy: He shook his head. "Non. I'm fine wit' what I am. I've come t' peace wit' it." Returning her look blandly he studied her face. "Have y'?"

Monet: "Have I come to peace with what I've told you? Of course I have, idiot. I have nothing to hide." She closed her eyes and took another drag. "I just prefer to keep some things to myself."

Remy: He reached forward with a sudden quick movement and stole the joint right out of her mouth, taking a hasty drag off it and sticking it back in when she went to open her mouth to complain. "Y' have everythin' t' hide if all y' can say is dat y're a woman, petite. Think I could figure dat one out. Same for d' whole thing about a sister an' a daughter. Y' told me y' had a brother - an' if y' were born y' gotta be a daughter t' someone. As for a mutant an' a student, no shit sherlock, or y' wouldn't be here, neh? So y' told me nothin'. Which means t' me y're not comfortable wit' much past d' basics. Y' wanna tell me y're a burnette next? Or white?"

Monet: Monet glared at him, "My hair is pitch black, thank you." She took another drag and was tempted to flick the thing at his face, but it would be wasteful, she would have to wait until she was finished. "Those things define who I am. Why should I tell you anything else? What else could there be for you to know?"

Remy: "I dunno. Dat y' play d' violin. Dat y're scared of sharks. Dat y're papa cheated on y're maman. Anythin' really. Don' have t' be big. Jus' own who y' are. Be comfortable in y're own skin."

Monet: "I'm perfectly comfortable in my own skin. It is what was granted to me when I was born, is it not?" She shifted and tugged at her pants around her hips, pulling them up a bit as she took another drag. "The last school I went to was closed down because the headmaster was an ignoramous. Better?"

Remy: He laughed. "Better...but dat still ain't about y'. It's about him."

Monet: "Well, it is about me. If it hadn't been closed down, I wouldn't be here, now would I?" She turned to watch him as he laughed, blinking slowly as the weed started to take slow effect on her, the healing factor likely dulling it. "My sisters call me 'Miss Perfect'."

Remy: "Can't imagine why." He said dryly. "So y' got how many sisters? An' jus' d' one brother?"

Monet: "Two. They're twins. And yes. Though I'd rather forget about him, if you don't mind." She gave him a flat look, "They call me that because of my powers, not my attitude. If that was what you were implying."

Remy: "Mmmmhmmmmmmmm" He agreed, drawing the noise out with flair, lips curled in just the slightest smile.

Monet: "How much of this have you had before I got out here? Because you are acting like a complete child, you realize."

Remy: "Oh dat's jus' me." He grinned. "Y'll learn. I become more of a child d' more annoyed it makes y' though. It's useful, hien?"

Monet: Monet rolled her eyes again and finished the joint, finally giving in to her urge and flicking it at his face. "I'm sure your wife is just thrilled and your child is amused by having a playmate."

Remy: He moved quick to save his coat from a singing as the butt lodged in a fold of it. "I'm happy t' please."

Monet: "Of that I have no doubt," she muttured with another eye roll as she looked away. "Just a casual observation, Remy, but your 'womanizing' is hardly as in your past as you think if you would openly treat a new woman on campus the way you have been treating me." She flicked her eyes to him, then back at the water, "Lovely spot for a house."

Remy: His forehead crinkled up in confusion. "Huh?" Wait, no, that didn't sound good. He was honestly surpised and taken aback by the question though. "An' what d' y' mean by dat?"

Monet: "I simply mean that it is a lovely view." She managed to keep the grin off of her face, knowing full well he meant about her womanizing comment. "Do you not agree?"

Remy: "Y're about as subtle as a hangover after a three day binge, Mo." He gave her a miffed look. "Oui, it's pretty. An' non, I haven't been tryin' t' pick y' up. If y've mistaken me, my apologies. Y're a pretty girl though, no offence."

Monet: "That wasn't what I meant at all." She glowered at him, "And I would greatly appreciate it if you would refrain from calling me 'Mo'. As I said earlier, I am far from being one of the three stooges."

Remy: His grin returned. "Den what do y' mean? I mean...if I wasn't tryin' t' pick y' up I was hardly womanizin', less y' have a different definintion of d' word dan I do."

Monet: "Treating me as you have been. Womanizing is not simply the act of trying to catch a woman's affections in order to use her. It is how you treat the woman in general. And when I say have been, I do mean since I arrived at school, not since I set foot on your dock."

Remy: His brow drew down in puzzlement again. "What? Talkin' t' y? Really petite, don' know where y' are from, but here we're allowed t' talk t' others of d' opposite sex."

Monet: Monet shook her head, "No, Remy. Being an ass to me. At the moment, and the past few minutes, you have been fine. But in an overall general sense, you have been, as you said, an ass. When a man is an ass in the way you have been, for example, the bow, to a woman who has done nothing to deserve such treatment I file that under womanizing. Even if not in its most extreme form."

Remy: "Dieu, what kinda men d' y' have at home?" He made a face. "Here...if I was t' be womanizin'...I'd be buyin' y' dinner an' payin' y' compliments, not bein' an asshole. Dis ain't six grade. I know dere's better ways t' get a woman in bed dan t' yank her pigtails." He abruptly started to laugh. "Oh Dieu, I can't imagine what y're choice of guys musta been like at home for me callin' y' names t' be a come on."

Monet: "Did I not just say that it wasn't only trying to catch a woman's affections in order to use her? I believe I did. But, hear what you will of what I said," she waved a dismissive hand at the topic, "It was merely an observation. I said that as well." She sat up more fully and pulled her shirt down from where it had started to ride up from the position, "If you ever tried to get me in bed, Remy, I would like to think your wife would castrate you."

Remy: Eyes flicking away from her again he settled back, having enjoyed the conversation up till that point. "Y're d' one bringin' it up, Mo, not me."

Monet: Monet took a deep breath, "I have asked you nicely twice to not call me that. Next time, you go in the water."

Remy: He just grinned. "Hey. I gave y' free weed. Dat should count for somethin'. An' y' jus' wanna see me wet. Now who's d' womanizer, neh?"

Monet: "That counts for nothing. I can pay you for it easily." She looked him over with a highly arched eyebrow, "Does your wife know you're a woman?"

Remy: "I ain't never been a whore an' I don' ever plan t' be." He said flatly before he picked up on the lighter tone of it. "Shh. Dat's jus' my secret. Sides which, I don' know which side of d' field y' like t' plow, so for all I know y' may be."

Monet: "I meant pay you for the weed, cretin." She rolled her eyes, but had a slight smirk on her face, "Far be it for me to burst in your house proclaiming that you're a female. And I enjoy the not-so-fair sex, if you must know."

Remy: He tutted. "Y' got a thing for ugly women? Well each t' our own..."

Monet: "Ha ha," Monet returned flatly. "Even ugly women don't have the correct equipment to please me, you simpleton."

Remy: "Y' mean y' can be pleased?" He grabbed at his chest. "Y' shock me. Never woulda guessed."

Monet: Monet weighed her options of tossing him in the water, but decided she didn't want to get up at the moment. "You're lucky that I did smoke. Otherwise you would be in the water now. And I'm also sure that even though I prefer males you wouldn't know how to please me, so you shouldn't be so 'shocked'."

Remy: "Well merci petite. Rather not end up goin' for a swim, as nice as d' lake is." He gave her a sage nod. "Non, I agree wit' y' dere. I only know what t' do wit' warm blooded species."

Monet: Ok, that was it. Monet used her speed to go to him before he could react, scooped him up easily and flew over the center of the lake, dropping him from about ten feet up then going back to her perch on the dock with a broad grin.

Remy: He whooped with surprise and then came up coughing a bit before stroking for the end of the dock. "Now dat wasn't very nice..." He said, hauling himself up and pulling off his coat, draping it over the rail to dry as he tried to wring the worst of the water out of his clothes. "An' I didn't even call y' Mo." He added hurt. "Though now I'm guessin' dat gets a green light, Mo. Cause it ain't like I can get any wetter, Mo."

Monet: Monet glowered at him again and stood up to slap him across the face. "Red light."

Remy: That made his eyes narrow in his face in sudden anger. She'd been silly, petulant and at times aggrivating up to this point, but hardly anything worth getting worked up over. He didn't raise his hand to his face, but simply looked at her.

Monet: "Do not call me that." She met his eyes, standing only about three inches from him and having to crane her neck to look at him, but she didn't care. "Are we clear?" He could think she was the biggest bitch in the universe for all she cared, but if one more person called her that, they were getting worse than a slap.

Remy: His face took on a well practiced bored look and he turned from her to rifle through a pocket. Coming up with some partially sodden bills he tossed them at her feet. "Merci for y're services. Y' were very..." His mouth pursed for one moment before the word spilled forth without any warmth. "...enjoyable. I won' be needin' dem again though." Turning his back to her, he stared back over the lake.

Monet: "Shame. You don't seem to have enough. If I were a whore, you wouldn't be able to afford me. Je vous parie pourrait vous permettre de payer votre femme, bien que. Est-cela comment vous l'avez obtenue pour vous épouser? Oh, who am I kidding, of course it was." She scooped up the bills and stuffed them in his back pocket, "You'll be needing these to pay her tonight to finish you off since I know you didn't even come close to anything out here."

Remy: He had a fist full of her shirt before he even knew what he was doing, shaking her like a dog would a rat. "Don' y' ever talk about her dat way." He came out of it like someone had dashed cold water on him, and let her go suddenly.

Remy: He closed his eyes, shoulders sagging, feeling shame burn deep in him. He shouldn't have insulted her like that in the first place and he doubly shouldn't have threatened harm on her, no matter how sharp her tongue. He couldn't find the words to apologise though.

Monet: Monet closed in on herself when he grabbed her, closing her mouth immediately and reverting to her quiet complacent state that she had learned when in the tender mercies of her brother. When he let her go, she backed away slowly, only a few steps until she hit the railing. She watched him with a carefully blank face, knowing from experience running might not be the best idea. But he had no sharp objects and she took away his lighter.

Remy: He ran his hand through his wet hair, looking at her and then looking away. "Pardonez moi."

Monet: She kept her eyes trained on him, her hands touching at the back of her hips, where he couldn't see, feeling the scars beneath her pants and reminding herself to stay quiet. She gave a small nod as her only answer as she pressed further into the railing, never moving her eyes from him, but letting them flick over his body, watching for any sudden movements again.

Remy: Finding the chair, he slumped back into it, the low slap of the water on the dock the only sound for a while. His eyes finally drifted to her again when he could handle it, frowning at her still form. "Girl, I'm sorry for frightenin' y', but I ain't gonna do anythin'. Y're safe. Y' need me t' call for someone t' come get y' an' take y' back home?"

Monet: Monet shook her head slightly and it took her a few moments to reach into her pocket, retrieving the lighter for him. She held it out to him, hand closed tightly over a good portion of it, still afraid to let him have it back, but it wasn't hers and she had never planned on keeping it.

Remy: Heaving in a big sigh he held his hand out, letting her drop it into his hand, setting it on the arm of his chair. "Merci."

Monet: She gave a short nod in response, still quietly watching him. He didn't look like he was going to harm her, but neither did her brother until it happened. But, she didn't have an inhibitor on and he didn't seem to be carrying any chloroform with him at the moment. "De rien," she said on a whisper. "Je suis désolé que je vous ai fâché, m'sieur," she said in an even quieter volume.

Remy: His lips compressed further. "Jus'...anythin' but her. Y' can call me a dumbass or d' foulest names y' can think of - but y' don' talk about her. Do dat, an' we should manage jus' fine."

Monet: Monet nodded and looked down at the planks below her feet, "Please... Do not call me Mo again." Her thumbs trailed under her waist band along the tiny scars. "D'accord?" She looked up to him with only her eyes, head still lowered.

Remy: "Oui." He said shortly, eyes on hers for only a second before he turned away again. "Won' lay a finger on y' either, so y' have no worry of dat." Now that he wasn't fighting the overwhelming grief that had rose up in him, it did seem odd that she'd cowered down like that. He'd have expected her to clock him one in the chin, not cower like a whipped puppy.

Monet: "Bien," she replied, grateful that he wouldn't call her that and even more grateful, if still wary about what he said next. "Merci," she said quietly, wondering if he was telling her the truth. She had to believe him for now or she wouldn't be able to move again.

Monet: She slipped her hands from her hips to rest at her sides, trying to get herself calm as much as showing him she didn't have a physical weapon.

Remy: She was still there. Why the hell was she just standing there? His eyes flicked again to her. "Y' sure y' don' want me t' call someone?"

Monet: "Non." Monet started to turn to go, then stopped a bit abruptly, "Peux-j'aller maintenant?" She would rather err on the side of caution at the moment and ask for permission.

Remy: "Y' hardly need my say so girl. Do what y' want." He didn't want to be rude and tell her to go, besides the fact he'd been waiting for her to. He wanted to be alone again.

Monet: Monet turned away and tried to keep her pace normal, but fought with her body as it tried to go faster. Once her feet where off the dock, she shot up in the sky and flew to a nearby tree, curling into herself on a large branch and shaking slightly.

Remy: He waited a long time till he figured she'd be well gone and then went to retrieve his coat, pausing by the water for a minute, wiping at his face angrily. Maudit, when did it stop?

Remy: He sighed long and low, and bade his wife goodnight as he usually did, before turning and folding the coat over one arm, picking his way into the house, trying not to drip too badly so as to not incur tante's wrath.

Monet: Monet frowned as she watched him, doing it out of habit from Marcus, not expecting to see him cry. Why on earth would he be crying? His life was grande and seemed to have not a care in the world. But still, he sobbed. Her ears picked up his goodnight to a 'Talia' and her frown deepened as he told her he loved her. She looked around but saw no one else. How strange.

Monet: She flew down from her perch silently and she pulled out her monogrammed handkerchief as she rapped lightly on his door. It was the least she could do if she had made him cry.

Tante: She'd seen Remy come in and seen the set of his shoulders and waited till he'd shut the door to his office before she got the mop. The knock was surprising, but then perhaps not - Remy wasn't one to swim whole clothed so there had to be more of a story. She opened the door to a pretty girl, even if she was pale and strained looking. "Bon soir. Can I help y'?"

Monet: Monet was a bit taken aback by the woman who opened the door, "Um. I..." Was this his wife? Wow... She had not expected to see someone like her. And so old too. "I had come to give Remy something. I'm... Are you his..." She couldn't bring herself to ask so she shook her head, "I'm Monet..."

Tante: "Oh, well hello." She smiled at the young girl. "Y' would be d' new girl, oui? Y' can call me tante - everyone does." She shrugged happily. "Y' want t' come in? Dere's some nice cookies fresh out of d' oven. Remy's..." She looked back at the hall and shook her head. "Well, d' boy ain't himself at d' moment. Y're still welcome though."

Monet: "Tante?" Monet frowned in confusion, "Does Remy call you that as well? Surely not..."

Tante: "Oui. He has since he was a chil'." She gave the girl a wry smile. "Obviously we ain't blood, but dat don' matter. Bonds can be made stronger wit' d' heart. An' jus' like I took care of him, now he helps take care of me in his own way. Oh, I still help him an' his son - but it's an easy an' comfortable life. I'm happy to do it." The girl was still hovering oddly in the doorway. "Y' sure y' don' wanna come in?"

Monet: "But... Why," Monet paused, "I'm sorry, but why would he call his wife his aunt. That just seems sick and twisted to me." She shook her head, "I'd rather not. No offense."

Tante: She looked at the girl, mouth agape for one moment before she put a hand to her hip and shook her head. "Oh good gracious, no. Whatever kinda ideas have you been gettin'? I was well old enough to be Remy's mama when he first came to me. I'd like t' think dat's how he feels about me. Wife? Lord no, chil'. Whatever gave y' such an idea?"

Monet: "Well, you opened the door... And I just assumed. He said he had one, so I made the logical assumption, even though it seemed rather strange to me. But now I see my error... Sorry to have disturbed you, ma'am." She held out the handkerchief, "Please give this to him along with my apologies for making him so upset. That is, unless his wife would think something of it..."

Tante: Her lips formed an unhappy line as she took the proffered bit of cloth. "Ahh. I could tell he was upset over somethin'." She fussed with her apron a minute, trying to think if she should say something, but surely the girl would hear sooner or later.

Tante: "An' his wife...she's been gone nearly three months, I'm afraid. So ain't much dat she could be thinkin' of it, poor chil'. I'll be sure to give him this and let him know y' thought of him though." Her eyes fixed the girl with a birdlike stare. "I'm sure he'll take y're kindness as real friendly of y'. Y' know how it is - takes people a lotta time t' move on. He's...well Remy might jus' take longer dan some."

Monet: "Gone?" Monet blinked for a moment and her hand went to her throat where her mother's simple gold chain lay around her neck. "Oh." Well damn she really had been out of line with all the comments she had been making. "Her name was Talia, then?" She gave a small nod, "Do you think Remy might allow an audience with me for a moment?"

Tante: "Oui." She nodded. "Most called her 'TJ'. Silly name for such a pretty girl. But she liked it dat way. Remy an' family called her by Talia." She frowned. "I'm not sure..." She glanced back over her shoulder and sighed. "I can ask, but I can't say for certain. Come on in an' have a cookie at least, an' I'll go an' ask him."

Monet: Monet nodded and followed the woman in, not exactly in the mood for a cookie, but she went to the kitchen where she was directed and sat in a chair at the table to wait. Part of her felt awful for saying all of that even though she had no idea and the other part of her was ready to kick herself in the face for wanting to apologize and show any kind of vulnerability. It was very unlike her. Or at least, very unlike how she was now.

Remy: He padded down the hall on bare feet, pajama bottoms and a shirt on, but hair still wet - there'd been no towels in the room. Honestly, he didn't expect this and had been less that amused when Tante had passed him a hankerchief and told him it was from that girl. Who was now waiting to speak to him. Merde.

Remy: She jerked up her head when he came around the corner and they made eye contact. Sighing despite himself he came forward close enough to lay the hanky by her. "Merci, but it's a bit small of a towel, neh?" He really didn't want to talk about it. She must have seen and the idea shamed him to his core.

Monet: Monet took the handkerchief back and stood to put it back in her pocket. "Oui, but it was a way of apologizing." She pushed the chair back under and watched him for a moment, using the time to gather her words. "I know what it's like to lose someone so close to you. I am sorry I said all of that. I never would have, had I known." She cleared her throat and hardened her face, "And if you tell anyone anything about this, I'll kill you."

Remy: His face had gone completely immoblie at the mention of loss, familiar old mask slipping into place. Her second comment cracked it just a little though, his lips quirking up sardonically. "Oui, certainment." He gave a small snort. "So y're list done? Apologise, threaten my life..." He reached forward, plucking up the plate. "Y' can't forget 'cookie' on dat list. C'mon."

Monet: "Non merci. And yes, my list is finished, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting back now." She still felt uneasy in the same room with him and she had said what she came to say, so now it was time to leave. "Bon nuit, Remy."

Remy: "Bon nuit." He opened the door for her and shut it once she made her quick escape. Well that was fun. Tante had materialized out of somewhere and he agreed to a cup of coffee before bed. He wanted cookies anyways. Mo didn't know what she was missing.


[Edited on 24/9/08 by fourpawsonthefloor]

[Elfdame]

Wow. This was one awesome read.

When she was all sassy and then got scared, then at the end flew away only to return and make up, it reminded me a bit of Rogue. I haven't read enough Instances and Creative stories to know if they are friends yet or not, but it'd be interesting.

Monet: "Believe me, this place is better than some other places I've been." No spit.

Remy: "So, y've lived it rough? Does dat mean rough as in really rough or as in 'I had t' stay at d' travel lodge once'?" It don' get any better dan dis, chere. Except maybe for: Y' gotta wonder how high dat stick goes up y're ass." That reminded him of Scott and he laughed. Alla dat is some fine writin' vraiment.

Remy: "Friends don' hurt either. Guess y're prickly parts keep y' from havin' many?"

Monet:"If I remember correctly, which I do, I called you a demon. And you're the one who said you were the asshole first." Heaven help us. Except for the fact that I'm ugly, fat, middle-aged, and plebian, Monet and I could be TWINS! Did I mention my real name was Rembrandt? Like the mouthwash. (Of course I'm kidding!)

I mean, I can be a bit of a jerk, but we all gotta draw our lines somewhere, neh? Erm, some of us can only draw outside the lines ...

He grinned at her and held a hand out, flicking a joint out from between his fingers like a genie at the last minute. Loved the visual.

After she had taken a small drag and blown it out, she pocketed the lighter. Weasel.

He thought about tossing her off the deck, but she could fly, so probably wouldn't work. Alas. This can also be a problem when teaching mutant kindergarteners, I hear.

Answer that yourself. I bet you could do it fairly easily, diable. ... Of course I have, idiot. ... The last school I went to was closed down because the headmaster was an ignoramous. ... Because you are acting like a complete child, you realize Hey, I think she's been posting here lately? {Elfdame slaps self for being catty and judgemental.}


Jus' own who y' are. Be comfortable in y're own skin. Sounds as though all those talks with Fr. W. paid off in the long run.

the bow, to a woman who has done nothing to deserve such treatment I file that under womanizing. Even if not in its most extreme form. Yeah. Right on. But I'd allow a fuzzy elf to kiss my hand and no hard feelings. I mean, one must make some exceptions.

I know dere's better ways t' get a woman in bed dan t' yank her pigtails Depends what she's into ...

Here...if I was t' be womanizin'...I'd be buyin' y' dinner an' payin' y' compliments, not bein' an asshole. Dis ain't six grade. You mean ... some men get beyond acting like sixth graders? Oh, right, this is a fantasy world. {Elfdame slaps self again and is glad Hubby never looks at Scrawlers even though he's the exception to the rule.}

"Y' mean y' can be pleased?" He grabbed at his chest. "Y' shock me. Never woulda guessed." ... "An' I didn't even call y' Mo." He added hurt. "Though now I'm guessin' dat gets a green light, Mo. Cause it ain't like I can get any wetter, Mo." Go, Remy, Go Remy, Go Remy! Yah!

He came out of it like someone had dashed cold water on him Um, actually, she just ... oh, never mind.

"Pardonez moi." Oooh. On vousvoit. How formal.

Remy: He padded down the hall on bare feet, pajama bottoms and a shirt on, but hair still wet - there'd been no towels in the room. Honestly, he didn't expect this and had been less that amused when Tante had passed him a hankerchief and told him it was from that girl. Who was now waiting to speak to him. Merde. And, playing softly in the background, the oldies' radio station featured Sam Cooke singing "Mama told me there'd be days like this..."

Again, this was great. Should be made into a short story.

[Esynthia]

When she was all sassy and then got scared, then at the end flew away only to return and make up, it reminded me a bit of Rogue.

heh... oops. I'm trying, I promise!!! and no, they're not really friends. this was only their second time to meet.

[fourpawsonthefloor]

LMFAO. Oh I think the commentary to that deserves it's own kudos. I was laughing so hard, elfdame.




You rock our socks!!