#◤ diable blanc ┖ ♠️ ANSWERED ┒

[ascnsion]

▋  𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   ❛ you  really  think  we’re  in  danger?   ❜   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @toxintouches​​

    ▎    Bare finger tips moved across the pages of the menu. A menu void of plastic lamination and a table only adorned with cloth. It was a relieving change of pace and much more aligned with his tastes. A moment of calm and pleasure in the midst of when things were riddled with chaos even when things should have been relaxing. Vacation part two, part three  —  Remy was in it to spoil himself and the beauty before him. There were always pressing matters on the back burner. For all they knew, Emma Frost would come bursting through the doors to demand their immediate aid. 

The very notion of it had the Cajun one bottle of red wine deep while a second sat upon the table .. soon to be third. With the rich flavous of escargot dancing on his tongue, freshly baked and buttered bread soon joined in the serenade; the edges of lips pulled up even higher with delight. He dotted the edges of lips with a cloth napkin before reaching across the table to lovingly, hungrily stroke Anna Marie’s hand. There was nothing but love burning in his eyes. Vacation, like every other, turned to ashes as the sensation of being watched suddenly burned into his flesh. It wasn’t Rogue’s gemstone eyes which brought forth the sensation either. Displeasure suddenly darkened his features, and he withdrew his hand to finish the wine within his glass.      

       ❝  Merde. I’m too far gone to put up a real fight.  ❞

Not precisely words of the romantic sort. She noticed the sudden dour mood and was second to notice their unwanted audience. Remy roused a deep breath and donned an expression of pseudo pleasure, but she, of all women, knew when he was putting up a pretense. He leaned his head forward as he took her hand, and placed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand while he spoke; red-on-black hues watched her her own knowingly.      

       ❝  Knowing our luck, mon cheri, mebbe. Le’s go ahead with dessert, den we can decide if we have t’ knock some hommes out or busy our hands with somet’in’ else more.. delightful, oui?  ❞

[ascnsion]

▋  𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   ❛  but  they  deserve  to  know.  ❜   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @toxintouches​​

   ▎    Fingers aptly worked against well-used playing cards. Unlike how the mutant typically played with the comfort object in a matter-of-fact manner, digits moved with mounting anxiety and required some sort of outlet. The stiffness along the lines of lips and eyes, too, were a telltale sign that things were not to his standards of calm. In the presence of Rogue, he did not even attempt to mask it nor play emotion off. Red-on-black hues surveyed the bustling street from a dramatic position atop of the roof, and honestly, he did not see the cliché draw that so many heroes felt. It was an excellent vantage point especially when the lives of so many were at stake .. as they typically were. The rhythmic movement of cards ceased suddenly as he drew his gaze towards the woman’s face.      

     ❝  I don’t disagree with you, mon ami, but you know de humans, de non-powered would ‘cause more chaos. Fear be a powerful weapon, oui? It’s better dey don’t know. We’ll stop it, cher. We will.  ❞

It may have been cruel, callous  —  an option seen as only endowed by those in power. Fear did make things worse as it made everyone act like rabid dogs inside the skins of frightened lambs. It was an Avenger play, and it made his throat bitter just thinking about it. The world didn’t need another reason to hate mutants .. even when they were protecting the homo sapiens. 

[ascnsion]

( 📂 ) This is something Remy would never, ever admit, except perhaps to Anna Marie  —  he always wondered what it would be like to be part of the Avengers. He didn’t get along with everyone on the team nor where his goals aligned with that of the Avengers. Still, it’s something he’s vaguely contemplated. It would have been, at the very least, nice to be officially offered the position.

( 📂 ) A lot of people who feel obligated to give him a gift without really knowing him gift the obvious, playing cards. He hates it. There’s only one deck he regularly shuffles and plays with. The cards he uses are projectiles are ones he’s picked personally but doesn’t have real attachments to.  

( 📂 ) Remy does not like shaving any part of himself. If he’d have it his way, he’d be as grizzly and hairy as Wolverine.

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫   .  .  .  .  .      📂    𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @muserender​​​​​  .  .  .     ┖ send   📂 for a random and useless headcanon ┒  

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   [ scratch ]  daken raking remy with his nails / claws.  𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @goreverine​​  .  .  .   ┖ violent muse reaction prompts ┒  

Shrimp cocktails should have been the most concerning sight of the evening. For an event flooded with the gluttony of thousand dollar champagne sips, the anemic display of shrimp piles drew an expression of concern and disgust against lips better suited to display a smirk. The oysters however, were an entirely different affair. The devil hued mutant offered an affable, half-flirtatious remark regarding an oyster’s supposed aphrodisiac qualities to an heiress on his right before he sucked down the exceptionally large and fresh specimen. 

Whatever hint of apprehension ( even mild disgust ) she expressed through body language in response to the sight of his sunglasses melted into coquettishness. Behind tinted lenses, the mutant could not help but steal a glance at the blonde woman’s impressive cleavage especially when she leaned forward to grab an oyster of her own. Watching others suck down the mollusk proved . . the opposite of arousal inducing. It was such a crude and voracious act, accentuated further by the polite act of daintily patting lips with a cloth napkin. 

A smile remained on Remy’s face regardless, and lips parted with the intention of handing the woman an introduction when something much, much worse than day old shrimp entered his field of vision. Daken could have donned a wig, an exceptionally mundane tuxedo, and perhaps even facial hair to round out the lines of his face, and he would have still stood out like crawdad in a salad. There was an undeniable ferality to the man’s eyes, his posture, his . . everything, and it sent Remy’s blood running cold. Lips pressed into a terse, thin line as he turned away from pleasant and unpleasant company.  

❝  Pardon, mademoiselle.  ❞  He was brusque with his departure, even more so as he weaved through the crowd of the absurdly wealthy, and made it the exit of the ballroom within seconds. A chain of scoffs followed on the heels of his dress shoes, otherwise he kept his head down and his presence minimal. Tipsy merriment transformed into congealed murmurs behind the thick walls separating ballroom and lounge. The atmosphere was still hot despite the lack of bodies surrounding him. Remy moved for the staircase, with one hand slipping into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve phone and fingers of the other tugging at the bow wrapped about his neck. 

Beep, beep. Not two numbers dialed, and the swift patter of heels stimulated senses. Muscles tensed, hairs erected  —  the only reactions produced in the wake of nimble movements. There it was, hot breath hitting the back of his neck . . fingers moving beneath the tuxedo blazer. The devil had a hold on him. Wolverine’s grim face crossed his memory. Laura’s troubled gaze surfaced with ease, yet it was Daken who was there with him. 

Red-on-black hues jumped to and fro with desperation while he searched for something, anything to charge with kinetic energy. Had Daken read his thoughts? No, it was obvious what Remy would do. His grip around his mobile phone tightened, his last resort, as the crawl of sweat running down his neck matched the creeping sensation of the other mutant’s claws moving from spine to shoulder blades; the black button-down shirt tore with eerie languidly. 

❝  An’ here I thought you were more o’ a’ pretzels an’ beer kinda homme. I’d try de oyster ‘fore they all gone . . ❞  Casual tone failed . . felt bitter on the tip of tongue. At least his flesh remained in tact, for the moment. 

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .  ❛ so apparently the 'bad vibes’ i’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress. ❜    𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @heroiisms​  .  .  .   ┖ incorrect quotes dialogue prompts ┒

The world was fine. An explosion of LIFE, an explosion of joy — a return to the smog littered and tree clearing planet Earth, yet everything was fine. It was the oddest time in history where overwhelming happiness mixed with the oil of past and future dread. Old worries surfaced from beyond the just closed wounds of grief like parasites escaping a host no longer viable, and the devil hued mutant watched with keen eye as the little monsters crawled free to infect others. Infect himself. When it came down to it, life on any planet contained its obstacles, and it mattered little how advanced human history was or how many creatures inhabited the earth. 

Charming, laid-back, and impeccably skilled at getting to people’s nerves, bathing in the ultra violet rays of the sun was the post-Thanos world Remy LeBeau indulged in. It wasn’t his obligation to solve the happy crises of a sudden outburst of re-population, nor was it the X-Men’s, and Remy truly took it to heart. The best time to unwind and bask in the happiness of having his fellow mutants return to life was right before the shit hit the fan. It WOULD hit . . It was already hitting. Sweat trickled down chest, back, neck, following the grooves of action-sculpted muscles as the sun continued to beat down and down. Skin sizzled. The formerly cold glass residing on the glass table adjacent to the lounge chair was sweating profusely. 

He heard the footsteps giving way through aptly grown grass, and a little part of Remy hoped it was someone clad in a bikini eager to take a dip in the pool. The bayou mutant waited and waited. The patio furniture beside him creaked gently, and the lack of anything flirtatious or snarky being uttered prompted the opening of eyelids. Of all the X-Men, he had not expected Hank to grace him with his presence . . what so far away from the lab or the office. Remy’s sweaty skin produced a wet noise as he shifted in the lounge chair, and fingers moved through unruly curls of auburn hairs to give his temple a modicum of relief.   

❝  Remy takes it you’re not here for a dip, mon ami; too dressed up fo’ dat. Somethin’ be on your, oui?  ❞  Matters with Raven, Scott, Wolverine, the world? The mutant kept his demeanor casual while worries circulated about his head; it almost made him feel guilty for lounging about as though there were no cares in the world. Hank’s words shocked him into silence, and Scott might have paid a hefty price to see the rare sight. A quizzical expression crossed his face, and he suddenly moved bare legs over the side of the lounge chair to better face Hank.

❝  Please tell a homme you be jokin’. Psychological problems have been a common t’ing dese past few years. . You’ve got my ear, Hank. ❞  There it was  — the creeping parasites infecting everyone good.

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   05.  the hierophant     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @hearrtstrings​ .  .  .     ┖  tarot headcanons   ┒    

05.  The hierophant:  What are your muse’s morals / ethics ? Do they follow their moral code strictly ? 

Remy has quite the rigorous list of morals which he follows 99% of the time. Thievery is free game, now he does it solely on the basis that it will help someone or benefit a mission; there’s none of that for profit bs. His ethical view on thievery and being a con man has changed over the years. He used to proudly steal from almost anyone as long as it got him far and want he wanted, be it food for the day or a pricey gemstone. That outlook changed once the X-Men entered his life. What hasn’t changed, however, is the morality behind killing. He will never kill an innocent person. He will never sacrifice one life ( unless it is his own ) for the “greater good”. He never willingly partook in plans to kill innocents and never will. Killing someone evil though . . that’s a tricky subject. If no one were to find out or no judgement would be cast on him for his actions, Remy would kill someone he deemed evil beyond reason of a doubt. If it came down to a situation where only one person has to make it out alive, Remy would kill that villainous person, otherwise he won’t go out of his way to kill someone unless he has nothing less to lose. He doesn’t want to disappoint his fellow X-Men, his mentor ( Charles Xavier ), and, more importantly, the love of his life ( Rogue ). If someone did kill Rogue and killed her for good, he would hunt that person down and show them hell before sending them to it. Remy isn’t open about his sentiments regarding death and who ‘deserves’ it, but people who know him very well most likely know or, at least, have their suspicions. Remy also dislikes betrayal and cheating when in a monogamous relationship, though he has slipped a little . . .

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   💭   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @sevenbulletsavior​​  .  .  .   ┖  send me   💭 for . . .   ┒  

If given the choice between chocolate and vanilla, Remy LeBeau was incapable of picking one thing. Life contained little to no restrictions, and the mutant of the bayou was never particularly keen on restricting himself to a sole thing. This or that. An ass man or a breast man. Why pick? Normal hues of brown, blue, green, grey, hazel were cards on the table; intentions and motives easily dissected. Like everything else about Remy, it only seemed appropriate that hues of black and crimson kept emotions close to the vest, though it certainly did not help first interactions. The eyes of the diable. The lack of depth and definition aided his ventures as he conned his way through his youth, played life-and-death games were a poker face triumphed, and . . . when eyes wandered with less than innocent intentions. It was crass and cheap, and certainly had not been the mutant’s intentions when the rhythmic tapping of Karen’s heels against the tile of the floor grasped his attention. Gaze moved over the shapes of the black high heels to find the curvature of long legs, unrestricted by the absence of stockings. At that very moment Remy thought to himself perhaps if he did have to make a choice, being a leg man sounded awfully good. ‘Merde, she could kick me in da head an’ I wouldn’t mind one bit.’

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .  ❛ I’m listening. . . ❜     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @chernayavidua​​  .  .  .     ┖  unprompted or somewhere in the abyss    ┒

The devil and the spider. Areas starved of light fed on their energy, thus shadows moved with glee against their bodies to, accentuating qualities which left the common man weak. A smirk played mischievously upon lips and though it was half hidden in shadows, darkness did not obscure the devilish hues of red-on-black. Emotion was difficult to decipher through hues vacant of anything that was normal, so body language spoke plenty. Gloved fingers toyed with a deck of cards as body remained casually propped against the sill of the apartment’s largest window. The gentle and rhythmic thrum of playing cards announced his presence, but Gambit was certain the scarlet haired spider knew of his presence before stepping foot in the room. Shadows skipped over the woman’s hip, her collar bone, and her ruby red lips. If Remy wasn’t the kind of man who found delight in the company of dangerous woman, the sight of her ebony clad body would have struck him with intimidation.

❝  Bonsoir, mon ami. Think you have time in dat busy schedule a’ yours t’ give ol’ Remy a second or two ?   ❞  He knew she was interested, otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered sparing the time to go into the room, whether she realized the note had been from Remy or someone else. She was apt; she could put pieces together, however the two of them solely had the pleasure of working intimately. I’m listening. The edges of lips turned up even higher, and the mutant put an end to idle card tricks though left arm remained propped on elevated knee with the highest degree of comfort.

❝  How ‘bout you an’ me do somethin’ dirty. No judgement. No X-Men. No Avengers. Just good ol’ justice for enfants who deserve someone at deir side. How does dat sound, araignee ?   ❞  Remy well well aware of the quality work Natasha was involved in; it was precisely what he required.

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   🛑   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @sevenbulletsavior​  .  .  .     ┖  blood and injury meme   ┒

Mutant blood ran red like that of any normal homo sapien . . of course there were unique exceptions, just as anything in life. It mattered not to hate mongers who craved the taste of violence and pain over true righteousness and equality, and who was Remy to deny them the satisfaction of pain, giving into primal emotion for the sheer fact it felt good letting all that anger out. Mutants were not like the rest of humankind; at the very least he and the crowd of inbred fiends could agree on ONE thing. For all the distasteful power hunger and ego inflation which inevitably accompanied mutant right ‘giants’ , the crux of their message was correct  —  mutants were better. So Remy told himself. He had two voices inside his mind, and the battle between them grew to a thunderous bickering at times when fists went into action.

If mutants were, in fact, better, then why fall back on such brutish violence ? One voice lectured, and he imagined it to carry the face of Ororo Munroe. Another voice, mutants are better but not without flaws. We evolved from humans after all, which he imagined was the voice behind Scott Summers. Violence did not solve anything in the grand scale of the world, even among men it only satiated the rush of adrenaline for a short period. Truly heinous creatures sought more and more pain afterwards, but a man like Remy LeBeau only found contemplation and . . guilt. He shouldn’t have allowed to let his anger get the best of him. He looked to people like Logan however, and the man’s life was nothing BUT violence. Nothing was solved. 

Admittedly some things became worse, yet Wolverine understood that peace was not contagious. Violence did not require violence to multiply; it multiplied in the presence of submission and kindness all the same. Despite his early and ghastly affiliations with Sinister and the Marauders, Remy was no killer. The blood on his body had not been derived from taking anyone’s life, and he was willing to bet half of it was his own. He discarded his trench coat, shirt, and gloves as the smell of so much blood agitated his guilt even further. He hardly noticed the sting of antiseptic ointment and iodine as it moved over the abrasions of his fingers, neck, and face, moved with gentle and keen care under the guidance of miss Karen Page. 

The altercation, to put it kindly, replayed several moments in his mind, causing red-on-black eyes to move back and forth within their sockets. A darkness over hues which went beyond color. The screams, the teeth, crunch of bone, rawness of flesh, and. . Karen’s frightened face. Filis de pute. He understood in the sickest way possible how he would be target of such violence, but what kind of man attempted to attack a woman, mutant or no? The streets were not kind toward mutants, Remy had known that, but never did he imagine his image would drag Karen into the hands of cheap evil so readily. It was remembering Karen’s face which broke him out of his thoughts, and eyes finally focused on the woman’s face, so close to his own.

❝  Pardon, Karen. Je suis desole. I was itchin’ fo’ a fight, an’ when I saw dem grab a’ hold on you. . I saw red.  ❞  His anger was boiling over just mentioning it. Remy shook his head and breathed in deep, attempting to focus on the bite of first aid ointments as a means to distract himself.

❝  Desole, mon ami. We shouldn’t go out in public togeder no more.   ❞  

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   ❛ my life isn’t as glamorous as my wanted poster makes it look like. ❜   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @secondhandmckie​​  .  .  .   ┖ incorrect quotes dialogue prompts ┒

      ▕▎     A deck of playing cards and a double shot of cognac  —  a perfect night in the making, and pleasant company worked in favor of the mutant’s easy going attitude. It took seriously HORRID company to dampen a mood stitched together by ego and natural charisma. Although the woman’s entrance was entirely unique to a mutant accustomed to a normal dosage of absurd, it wasn’t tame either. Fingers craved the natural violence of turning an idle object’s potential energy into kinetic, yet playing cards and glass remained in tact, enough for the last droplet of alcohol to move past grinning lips. 

Rim of the glass hit the wooden table, and playing cards rhythmically thwiped from one hand to the next, calmer still than the world’s ambiance of crashing waves. A man two meters away from his feet groaned, weakly attempted to reach out towards Gambit for  —  help? Was it? Before he dropped unconscious, and face hit the floor with an ugly, uncomfortable sound. Red-on-black hues moved with the tendency of a viper’s . . the emotions behind it undecipherable as they watched closely and moved with her body.   

     ❝  Dat so? Shame, femme. I’d argue my own life be more glamorous den all my wanted posters. I don’t have any now, bien sur, but back in de day  —   ❞  A whistle with emphasis behind the noise moved past his lips as playing cards continued to move from one hand to the next as though they had a mind of their own.   

     ❝  Most mutants hate de reputation; ‘M not most, oui?  ❞  Tongue moved against lips, and his eyes had remained on her face until he ceased talking. He straddled the bar stool comfortable, and pushed aside the tail coat of his duster to sweep hand across the fallen grunts laying on the floor.

    ❝  What is it dat you want from ol’ Remy, femme?  ❞  

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   ȹ     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @sevenbulletsavior​​  .  .  .     ( nude reaction  )    ┘

A little gift from Logan was pressed between thighs comfortably; a test of resolve and will as mind was already losing grasp of sense. Riding that fine, exquisite line between sobriety and inebriation. The devil hued mutant paced himself. When the floaty feeling began escaping mind and limbs, he drew his gaze away from the full moon looming beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, and removed the crystal decanter from between thighs to pour himself another drink. Mmmm. The night was bordering on hot, but the breeze passing through the ajar windows and doors brought the most pleasant breeze. It was enough to keep him sedated on his seat, alone with a bottle of exceptional cognac, and donning only boxer briefs. Despite how perfect the alcohol was and the temperature of the evening, drinking alone lost its appeal after the first hour, thus hand reached for mobile device resting on the table adjacent to lounging body. 

First, he took a picture of himself and the moon . . dark light, perfect shadows, very moody. Then one of himself grinning as he held the decanter; inviting Rogue over for a drink or more. Too much time passed in silence, and Remy indulged in too many drinks in too short of a time frame. The decanter was moved to the table, body shifted in position, and before he knew it a less than subtle image was being sent to Anna . . Anna Page. Karen. Wait. He snapped the elastic of his briefs back in place and brought the horribly bright screen closer to face to inspect the recipient of his x-rated image. Merde !! Deleting the message wouldn’t work; it already went through . . it was already out there.

 [SMS : ❛  je suis profodement sorry. don’t look at it. delete it. desole, mademoiselle. ❜  ]

Merdemerdemerde. Should he call to clear things up, to vocalize how deeply sorry and clearly not in the right state of mind he was ??  No, he already made things unprofessional and awkward. The mutant tossed the phone away, uncaring of befell the device, and slapped a hand to face to rub at temples.

             ❝  Vous estes un cul, Remy.   ❞  

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .  ❛ who the fuck are you ? ❜     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈   @sevenbulletsavior​​​  .  .  .     (  fuck memes  )    ┘

The crawdads of Louisiana, red rocks of Colorado, gambling of Nevada, and . . the chaos of New York. It was only fitting that the symbol of western liberty and the base of operations for the Avengers were nestled closely to cities harboring such festering sources of violence and evil. Interest was not enough to bring the mutant to the debris littered streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Interest brought people to beautiful beaches and overcrowded landmarks; Remy LeBeau was conducting business . . interesting business certainly, loosely affiliated business yet such was the nature of work for a man of his skill set.

Names and addresses were already burned into memory before arriving to the infamous city, and booted feet took the mutant through the streets with casual nature while devilish hues behind sunglasses remained keen to potential dangers and familiar faces. Despite not donning his typical brown duster nor a tactical suit, gazes continued to fall on him — curious, prying, interested, confused, and Remy regretted not using colored contact lenses in lieu of sunglasses especially as sun gave way to moon. For the city’s reputation, he expected a lot MORE. Lively faces, strange attire, and mutants were sparse in the city, thus his figure stood out like raw duck in middle of a alligator infested swamp. Hmph, and to think he almost wore his ‘mutant rights‘ t-shirt. 

Unruly auburn curls were pulled back into a bun before entering the modest bar as if the minimal change would make him blend in better with the suited and plain dressed civilians. The bar was small yet lively, and the mutant casually strolled to the farthest bar stool for a seat and a quick drink. The elderly bartender offered a sideways glance but said nothing of the sunglasses, instead she was quick to pour a single shot of bourbon at his request. He nursed the shot, drawing it to lips every now and then to fill the time while he waited for — there she was. A quick glance to the clock confirmed the reliability of his sources which was as alarming as it was impressive. 

People knew too much, and Karen Page stuck to a schedule too strongly. Remy waited, ordered a beer to drink more languidly, and waited more until an hour passed when her friend date concluded. Healthy amount of tip with the bill was paid, and the mutant exited first. Page’s sharply dressed friend was the first to leave, too occupied with his cellphone to notice the shadow waiting for his friend; it was fortunate the mutant held no ill will. Click of heels and flowery perfume hit senses before the petite body came into view, and Remy stepped forth casually with hands tucked into the pockets of slacks.

          ❝   Mademoiselle Page, oui ?   ❞   The shift in her body language was immediate, and the red eyed man regretted having to approach the woman in such a way that instilled fear. He noticed her hand reaching into her purse as her weight slowly shifted to the other foot, pivoting body to face the stranger’s voice. Remy remained a healthy distance away and withdrew right hand from pocket to play with several playing cards in a non-threatening manner. Languid posture or no, the blonde woman had bite to her, and it drew a chuckle from mouth.

        ❝   Such a mouth on you, femme. Better t’ be wary an’ hostile in de face of a stranger instead a’ bein’ too amical. I mean no harm, mon ami. Just here to issue a warnin’ for your and your friends. And no, de thread ain’t from me.   ❞  

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   Trick or Treat !?                                                                                 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @sevenbulletsavior​​ .  .  .  .  ( ask box trick-or-treat  )  ┘

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .  ❛ well, it’s just a backup plan. ❜     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈   @femvoir​  .  .  .     ( netflix’s daredevil memes )    ┘

Heated breath rolled out from parted lips. Furniture beneath creaked with the pressure applied by movements, and head craned backwards as far as neck provided allowance. Grunt proceeded heavy breathing then tongue lapped against top lip to lick the accumulation of salty sweat which had gathered. Why was it always hot? Bayou born, the heat gripping flesh was still unbearable. Duster and reinforced chest plate were ditched for more modern and sleek attire. The heat followed, be it the actual air temperature or the pressure of the situation. Fingers and toes wriggled to keep the flow of blood steady through limbs, although it felt like cul was void of blood; rear utterly numb against the wooden seat. Wood, there was hope for him still. Wood was easy to break, already groaning with strain, unlike some metal medical examination table he found himself tied to more often than not. Chin quickly jerked to the right, whipping back sweat logged strands of unruly auburn hairs.             ❝   Backup plan  — No offense, chere, but dat plan. . c’est naze. How do I put dis ? It ain’t good.   ❞   

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .   [ NO FILTER ]   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈    @hearrtstrings​ .  .  .  ( send ‘no filter’ for . . )    ┘

Glass of bourbon was situated on the side table situated to the right, however inebriation was not required to wag tongue freely. Comfortable and with good company, the mutant kicked his feet up on the chair opposite to his and laced fingers behind messy hairs of auburn to lounge with maximum pleasure. The delicious flavor of bourbon was still teasing the taste buds of tongue when the question was posed and answer followed.

          ❝   Someone bein’ nosy or a good ami ?    ❞   It hardly mattered. Red-on-black hues slowly slid to focus on the decanter on the right, but he was far too invested in his lounging position to retrieve another sip. Remy mulled thoughts and subsequent words carefully, not with any intention to mask true thoughts but to articulate thoughts properly.

        ❝   Mademoiselle Remington — she be de kind a’ femme you do call mademoiselle. Even without sharin’ words with her, you see her an’ t’ink ‘ dat be a petite lady ’. You agree, oui ? Don’t know if dat comes across as . . sexist. You just lay your eyes on her an’ see dis cute femme. De way she speaks is attirant, too, but she be more than a pretty face. Petite but resilient; she got eyes dat tell someone ‘ I be watchin’ you ‘. Remy don’t mean dis in a bad way at all, but dis homme would bet she’s broken a lot a’ hearts whe’der she meant t' or not. I still need t' get t' know her better though, an' hopefully she wants t' get t' know Remy better, too.   ❞  

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .  ❛ my superpower is reading people. watching them when they think they’re alone. i see people for who they really are. ❜     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈    @spydered​​​  .  .  .     ( amazon’s the boys memes )    ┘

Two pairs of bodies were minutes away from finalizing the act of procreation. Less than sober onlookers were the only ones who found even a minuscule level of entertainment watching intertwined limbs and tongues probing for cavities. Glazed over yes lost in the bottom of an empty pint, intrusive eyes set on the gyrating bodies, and one pair of devilish eyes completely alert and keen — watching the araignee. He grew up on the streets, grew up among thieves among the cobbled streets, swamps, and bright colors of New Orleans, yet the seedy belly ( not even the under belly ) made him feel oddly at home. 

Or was it simply being comfortable and content ?  Few people tolerated mutants, but people caught up in their depression and desperation were far less likely to threaten a bite worse than bark. Remy was on his third drink, nursing the third and last as he found more enjoyment in company than alcohol. Pleasure in conversation was worn readily on lips as he sat with legs spread apart; one leg was propped on the empty chair beside, and pointer finger of right hand danced around the lip of the glass.

           ❝   An’ here I t’ought your power was killin’ some’ne with a single look. Remy like t’ t’ink de fear a’ spiders started because of you, femme.   ❞   Edges of lips quirked up even higher to accentuate his jest, albeit briefly. Leg moved down from the chair to straighten up posture, and arms folded against the surface of the table to lean in closer.

         ❝   Tell me den. Who am I — truly ??   ❞