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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 19:24:01 GMT -4
The drive had been excruciating. The loss of blood was messing with his senses, making him light headed and his vision blurry, but somehow he’d made it. There was nothing special about the building, just a regular apartment for a regular girl, but Christine MacTaggart was no regular girl.
Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and stalk the people that fit both labels. That was a motto he could live by.
In the time he had stayed with the X-Men, Christine had become one of the closest friends he knew. No matter what, she never judged him. No matter what, she always cared for him.
He only hoped she remembered him.
She didn’t appear to be with the X-Men now, and seemed to have made a decent life for herself. She had a good job as a nurse, which was very convenient for him tonight, and her own place. Still, he couldn’t be too careful. She had always been a friend, but now the X-Men truly were his enemies and he couldn’t risk her selling him out in his weak state. Friends close, enemies closer, and Christine fit both and neither category at the same time.
Finally managing to pick the lock on her apartment door, and in shoddy time for a thief at that, he wiped what he could of his blood off the doorknob before slipping inside and closing it behind him. Not bothering with any lights, he staggered through the hallway to the bathroom. Snagging a towel from the linen closet, he pressed it to the wound in his shoulder. If it was the Chris he remembered, his Chris, she wouldn’t begrudge him a bloody towel.
Leaning back against the sink, he removed his cell phone from his pocket and made the call.
“Bonjour, ma belle. Jus’ checkin’ in, as requested,” he said, his voice sounding tired despite the levity he tried to inject into it to calm Callie’s worries. Hopefully Chris would be home any minute. He didn’t want their first meeting since the crystal shattered to be her finding his dead body on her floor. Not a nice gift.
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 20:33:51 GMT -4
OOC: blood's such a bother to get out of furniture anyway, and I don't want to explain dead body to the landlord XD
It had been a painfully long shift - especially since it was her turn in rotation for surgery. Of all the shifts she hated - OR topped the list. She had seen enough blood, guts and gore during her stint as an X-Men in the wonderful game of insert reality of your choice here please. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear her head of such thoughts - alternate and parallel universes and all that entailed always made her head throb - and slipped inside her apartment.
Strange, she thought, she could have remembered locking the door when she left. At least, she thought she had. No... She had distinctly remembered locking it since her neighbor had mentioned a rash of thefts that were being attributated to some theif, Black Cat? No matter. Her building was safe - or so she thought.
She made her way to the bathroom to get a chance to wash her face when she spied a familiar figure leaning against her bathroom sink.
"Of all the apartments, in all the towns, in all the world, you had to break into mine," she said with a faint trace of humor. "You know, you could have just checked under the mat - my spare's there."
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 20:46:35 GMT -4
Having reassured Callie that he hadn’t bled to death or ended up in a ditch somewhere, Remy ended the call and stashed the phone back in his pocket. Continuing to lean against the sink for support, he was just wondering if Chris would even show anytime that night when he heard the turning of the doorknob. Peering cautiously down the hall, he saw light from the single bulb just inside the door and heard footsteps approaching. Trying to look as nonchalant as he could under the circumstances, he couldn’t help but grin when Chris suddenly appeared in his line of vision.
“Now where’s de fun in dat, p’tite? What kind o’ self respectin’ t’ief uses de spare key t’ break in? No sense o’ challenge,” he drawled, forcing the smile to remain on his face. “Long time, no see. Miss me?”
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 20:48:23 GMT -4
She just gave him a soft wry grin. "Yeah, I missed the crazy Cajun. And before you ask, no, I'm not with the X-Men. I'm, ah, a bit of a loner these days. Too many new faces for me to deal with and I'm not in the mood to deal with them, so I broke away. Yes, you may gasp and awe."
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 20:57:18 GMT -4
So far, the dim lighting seemed to aid his cause. She had yet to notice the blood, and his mask seemed to be holding up pretty well and hiding the pain he was in. Keeping a hand to his shoulder, he obeyed and gasped in an exaggerated manner.
“Now dere’s somet’in’ I t’ought I’d never hear. Guess dat ‘family spirit’ de X-Men claim t’ have don’ cross over t’ ot’er worlds,” he replied. Looking in her eyes, his expression suddenly softened. “T’ tell y’ de truth, I jus’ be glad dat y’ r’member me, an’ dat y’ ain’ lookin’ t’ toss me out de window fo’ everyt’in’.”
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 21:28:04 GMT -4
Christine gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, well, I just didn't think I fit in since of my past before the whole mess with the universal shuffle." She cleared her throat. "So, what brings you this way?"
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 21:42:19 GMT -4
“Y’ could o’ always tried on de black hat fo’ a while,” he chuckled, only half joking. He’d never try to drag Christine into something dangerous, even if it was something he believed in.
But time for beating around the bush was over. Grimacing at the question, Remy leaned in to reach past her for the light switch.
“Not exactly how I pictured our little reunion t’ go, but I got m’self int’ a bit o’ trouble, an’ I need y’r help.” It was obvious that it pained him to even ask her. It was even more obvious when he flicked on the light.
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 21:47:15 GMT -4
"Holy hell," she breathed. "Okay, let me go get my med kit. And Remy," she said, pausing to shake her head. "I just got out of the OR and now you're pushing me back in - thanks." With an slightly irritated headshake, she padded into the bedroom to grab her medical kit - the one she got as a present upon finishing her internship. Her hand touched the phone for a moment before she shook her head.
No, she was not going to call the mansion. She was not going to tell them that Remy paid her a surprise visit. Besides, that wound looked like it was Logan's handiwork. She shuddered to think about what would happen if she did call. And with those thoughts shelved, she made her way back to Remy - intent on getting him patched up.
Of course, there was the side trek to her liquor cabinet - so he could get nice and drunk while she stitched him back up.
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 22:02:21 GMT -4
At Christine’s less than thankful retort, Remy at least had the presence of mind to look ashamed.
“Désolé,” he said aloud, even as she left the room. He didn’t know if she could even hear him, but he continued talking anyways. “I didn’t mean t’ drag y’ int’ dis, but I didn’t know where else t’ go. Y’ know dey would o’ sent me straight t’ jail if I’da set foot in de hospital... dat is if dey didn’t jus’ kill me on de spot.”
He may have had very little to live for lately, but he didn’t want to die like this.
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 22:10:04 GMT -4
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered under her breath. Walking in, she handed him a bottle of Grey Goose. "Sorry if it's not to your liking. I didn't think I was ever going to use it." She shook her head slightly. "Think you can take your shirt off without dying on me?"
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 22:18:36 GMT -4
Seeing the bottle of liquor in her hand when she returned, the corner of his mouth turned up into a grin. It wasn’t bourbon or whiskey or beer, but it would do. Taking the bottle, he twisted off the cap and took a long draught off of it. The liquid burned as it went down. It would definitely do the job.
“Any excuse t’ see me naked,” he said, pushing away from the sink. Dropping his coat to the floor, he swayed unsteadily now that he had to stand on his own two feet without support. Grasping the bottom hem of his shirt, he pulled it partway up before sucking in a quick breath as he tried to pull his injured arm through the sleeve. “Y’ could always get a little frisky an’ jus’ rip it off me.”
In his own backwards way, it was a plea for help. It was going to hurt a whole lot less if she cut the shirt off him.
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 22:23:50 GMT -4
"Oh yes, I'm just dying to see you naked," she said with a bland tone to her voice. "Now if you were blue, furry and German, I'd be a little more excited but since I heard he has a new girl, well," she gave an idle shrug as she helped him remove the shirt.
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the extent of Remy's injuries. "Okay, that's it. I am so reading Logan the riot act. The X-Men are supposed to be the good guys - and the good guys don't kill their villians," she snapped, half out loud and half to herself.
"In your opinion, which is the worst of your injuries?"
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 22:37:06 GMT -4
Still hung up on the fuzzball. Good to know some things never change, though it was odd to hear her talk about him seeing someone else with so little emotion. She had been so desperately in love before.
“Sorry ‘bout dat,” Remy said, giving her a genuinely sympathetic look. He knew how it felt to lose the one you loved. “His loss, dat’s fo’ sure. Dat’s quite de specific type y’ got dere. Can’t be many o’ dem aroun’. Might be time t’ broaden y’r horizons a bit.”
Wincing as she helped remove his shirt, Remy grabbed for the bottle again and took another large swig. Smart girl, she already figured out the culprit without him having to say a word. While Christine ranted, he lowered the lid on the toilet and took a seat on it. Laughing bitterly at her talk of the X-Men being the good guys, he drowned his words with another drink.
“Ha, good guys,” he muttered to himself. Looking up at her, his face showed amusement despite the pain. “I ain’ no expert, but I’d have t’ say de hole dat goes clean t’rough m’ shoulder ain’ feelin’ de best.”
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Nov 16, 2006 22:42:06 GMT -4
"Yeah, I think I'm going to," she said, giving Remy a wry grin. "Had a few of my coworkers try and weasel my number out of me," she said with an airy laugh. "None suceeded though."
At the comment about his shoulder, she gave a low whistle. "You know, there are some days I wish my mutant power was the ability to heal other peoples injuries. I can see if I can work some telekinetic magic and knit some of the injuries together before I sew you up if you wish. Of course, I am a smidge rusty but... Your call."
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Post by Gambit on Nov 16, 2006 23:02:05 GMT -4
Same old Chris. That, more than anything, made the pain more bearable. The vodka didn’t hurt either. Downing another shot, Remy nodded.
“Me? I prefer somet’in’ a little harder t’ ignore. Why ask fo’ a number when y’ can jus’ break int’ de femme’s place?” he said with a wink. Spreading his feet apart, he slouched forward a little, his head feeling light and fuzzy. Making up for lost blood with alcohol might not have been the best idea, but it did help mute the screaming pain.
Being a ‘smidge rust’ wasn’t reassuring at all, but at this point?
“Whatever y’ gotta do, I be at y’r mercy. Y’ be de nurse, an’ despite everyt’in’... I trust y’,” he stated sincerely, meeting her eyes. It didn’t last long, though before his eyes drifted down. “Don’ spose y’ come complete wit’ de uniform under dat coat o’ y’rs...”
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