goneawayworld | In the middle of the night/I go walking in my sleep

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In the middle of the night/I go walking in my sleep

Who: Remy LeBeau and Open
What: Somebody's late and doing some exploring
Where: Rig halls/Gym/The Library
When: Toward the end of the ARE
Warnings/Notes: Phonetic accent ahoy! Action spam will be matched. Other warnings added as needed.

The Halls

Finally having been released a bit earlier in the day, Remy has spent it walking the halls. He's avoided the guys without faces so far, because faceless guys in suits are a bit weird, even for the X-Men. But they don't seem interested in him, anyway, so at least the feeling is mutual.

Right now, though, he's mentally mapping things out. And looking for the stationary closet. Every office complex has a stationary area, at the very least, and these guys seemed like the type to have a closet full of it. Mostly, he wants some paper and some pens. A ruler would be great, but not entirely necessary.

Finding a likely door, Remy glances around, then pauses a moment when he notices somebody nearby. "Bonjour. Somet'in' I can help you wit'?"

The Gym

"Ain't de Danger Room, but it'll do."

Remy's taken the chance to get out of the ill-fitting jumpsuit and in to...not quite as badly fitting gym clothes. Which isn't great because at least the jumpsuit is warmer. Still, a good workout would warm him up, too.

Lucky, he'd found a bo staff. Which he would get to, as soon as he finished with his stretches.

The Library

After finding the stationary, Remy went looking for a good place to settle down to get some drawing done. It's only the main floor that he'd gotten a good look at so far and he does have it down in his head. But it wouldn't be a bad idea to commit it to paper as well.

He also has a deck of cards at his hand, occasionally sitting back and shuffling the cards as he considers the map. The sound of the shuffling isn't loud in the library, but it's not exactly the most common sound in the room.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Stuff got on the rig. We all got stuck doing icebreakers and corporate morale exercises and shit. Someone's bad dream about their job, I guess."

She washes down her powerbar with some water and leans forward to study the map.

"Not bad. You couldn't get past the security doors either, huh?"

"Soun's like a good t'ing I missed out on dat." Because that definitely sounds like a nightmare to Remy. He is not one for that sort of job.

When asked about the security doors, Remy has to shake his head. "Non. Didn' give it too much of a try, though. Didn' wanna draw attention an' my tools are wit' my ot'er suit."

"Shame about your tools. Anything we can duplicate?" She coughs. "I, uh, tried getting through 'em with muscle, the doors and the bulkheads around them. Didn't work. On a related note, did you know the cameras are busted?"

That makes him pause, frowning. "Non, missed dat part." He's been catching up on the comms, but hadn't gotten through everything yet. "Might've tried a bit more if I'da known dat."

He sits back, tapping the pencil on the table in thought. "Might have a chance wit' my picks. Ain't so easy to duplicate, but I can pro'bly make do wit' somet'ing else. Handful of paperclips'd be a good place to start."

"Well, now you know. Fellow I've been chatting with found it out. Look for a post on the comms by Quaestor, there's intel there and one of the comments on the bottom has a decent map of halls and vents. There's a ton of void space, most of it accessible though not large - this place was completely jury-rigged and so big I'd be surprised if anyone here knew all the ins and outs."

As she talks, she indicates on his map where some of the more useful spaces are, the ones that can fit more than one person, or look likely the connect to other areas.

"Haven't done a lot of exploring beyond that. Didn't fancy getting stuck in a vent somewhere without a spotter."

She taps her chin, thinking. "Paperclips, okay. There's a stationary closet here in the library that's locked, but the desk ought to have at least a couple."

He takes the map back, scribbling a few things on it. Small notations in a hand that is neat enough, but the notations themselves obviously are meant to mean something to him and nobody else. "Bien. Good to know." He can do some exploring of those areas himself, get the lay of the land with his own eyes. Everybody has different needs, after all. "You ever wanna go explorin', lemme know. More dan happy to accompany you."

Remy looks up at her and grins. "What kin'a lock's on de door? Don' reckon it'd be too much hassle." Right sort of lock, he might not even need a paperclip or two.

Well. Small piece of paper and he wouldn't need them, either. But exploding a lock tends to be conspicuous.

Saturday grins back, having expected this response. "Looked mechanical to me, kinda thing you'd buy at the Home Depot. An' the librarian's asleep right now."

"Wouldn't mind the assistance," she continues. "There's a bit of a plan in the works for some penetration testing on the upper levels - see if we can get in there, take a look around, maybe steal some smokes. If we can find a discreet way in an' out, that'll make things easier. Or just a bolthole if things go sideways for the upstairs crew, someplace to lay low til we can extract 'em."

"Well den. Maybe we go take a look at dis lock, see what we're workin' wit'." Remy stands, putting the pencil behind his ear as he waits for Saturday to show him where he needs to go. "Mechanical lock shouldn' be a pro'lem."

He lets her lead the way, listening as they walk. "Soun's good. Jus' lemme know when and where." Yes, it probably needs a little more planning than that. But Remy's always been one for thinking on his feet when it comes to these kinds of things. Don't have to worry about Plan B when there wasn't exactly a Plan A to start with. "Pass on de smokes myself, though. Managed to quit couple years back."

Which may explain a few teeth marks on the pencil. While he's mostly broken himself of the habit, he hasn't entirely.

"Ha. You know, I was all about clean living 'til three months ago when the shit started happening - this whole rig thing is only the latest in a sequence of weird shit, you follow?"

Saturday has a distinct feeling, from their earlier conversation, that he does. She gestures at the utility closet door which is, as she'd stated, a perfectly ordinary lever-handle lock. She'd popped by the library and seen what was inside the closet once; nothing but office supplies, so why secure it seriously?

"Have at."

"Wouldn' call it clean livin', petite. Jus' dat, unlike some of my coworkers, I ain't got a healin' factor. Nor am I nigh on indestructible." Not any more, at least. And he does prefer it that way. "Now, me? I still figure dat I'm gonna get done by de day job 'fore anyt'in' else gets to do it, but why take de chance?"

Once they reach the door, Remy crouches down to have a look at the lock. It's a simple one, really. No more complicated than most regular door locks. The only complication is in not wanting to leave a trace. Or, at least, not breaking the lock. "Yeah, dis shouldn' be no problem in de least. Paper clip'll do jus' fine."

Saturday has already ducked behind the desk to secure one, and presents an array of different sizes.

"I used to think the day job was something I might be able to retire from," she jokes, though it isn't very funny. "More fool me, eh? Will any of these do?"

Remy takes them, looking them over carefully before picking out a middling sized one. He also picks out a few more before offering them back. "Dis'll do nicely, I t'ink." The others were for...spares. Just in case.

Then he gets down, eye-level with the lock again, straightening out the paperclip so that he could insert one end of it. It doesn't take much work, given that the lock is so simple. It's only about ten seconds before there's a click and he's able to turn the handle. "Not'in' to it," he says, grinning as he straightens up. "An' if dere's one t'ing I've learned? People like us don' retire. Oh, we try. But dere's always somet'in' or ot'er dat'll come up an' drag you back in."

And he means being an X-Man just as much as he means being a thief.

"Gosh, that's faster than Orchid does it." The sniper isn't here to glare at her, so Saturday can admit that freely. "'Course, half the locks she has to pick end up being trapped or cursed so I guess she goes careful for a reason."

Saturday pokes her head in the closet. "That's a lot of plastic folders, huh. Anyway," she says, jumping to a different topic. "My pops got a good ten, fifteen years of peace to raise his kids before we started getting in trouble. I guess if I can manage that much, I'll count it as a win."

"Gotta say, dat ain't somet'in' I gotta deal wit' too often. De bein' cursed. Trapped, yeah, sometimes."

Remy shrugs expansively, because he can't really say anything about the speed. It was a really simple lock and he's nearly the best there is at what he does for a reason.

He grabs some of the folders. "I get some scissors, I can make some use of dese." At this size, they aren't comfortable for throwing. Not that he couldn't. Just prefers to work with something a bit smaller.

Then he thinks back, considering as he scratches his cheek. "Dad got 'bout...two years maybe? 'Fore I started goin' out an' gettin' in trouble all my own." And that had been Remy being on his best behavior.

"Will these do?" She holds up a pair of blunt safety scissors, rummaging with her other hand in one of the shelves. "What kind of metal do you need? Sharp and narrow?" She assumes he's talking about making lockpicks.

"Well, my pops had some people owed him favors, too, kept a lot of old business off his doorstep," she observes and offers a box of staples. "Are these anything you can use?"

"Dey'll have to at de moment." Scissors join the paper clips in his pockets, then frowns. "Some of each. Dey ain't gonna hold if de locks get too complicated, but should be al'ight for what we're likely to see everyday."

He also grabs some more paper while she's searching. "Dad's..." He makes a considering sound at the back of his throat as he takes the staples with a nod. "Well, let's jus' say dat he did as much as he could to keep trouble from de doorstep, but." The corner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile. "Like I said. Got in plenty of it on my own."

And with Bella Donna, of course. "But he kept me safe as he could an' got me trained up."

"The toughest locks are on those goddamn indestructible fire doors," Saturday grouses, with the tone of someone who's used to being able to literally power through any obstacle. "At least, those are the only pure electronic I've seen, everything else has mechanical even if there's a keycard."

She smiles faintly, casting about for anything else that looks useful. "You said something about index cards earlier, I think? Found a bunch down here. My pops figured, he'd gone to all the trouble of teaching me, wasn't fair to expect me not to try anything. So there were rules an' as long as I followed them and got home by midnight, you know." She shrugs. "No problem."

The problem had come when he'd officially let her off the leash, and she'd gotten into the shit out of - she does, visibly, wince remembering it - pure fucking arrogance, when you get right down to it.

"Could definitely use dose." They aren't quite the right size, but again. He could work with it. "I got ways 'round even electronic locks. But, 'gain. If we're not wantin' dem broken, den we'll need to find 'nother way 'round dem."

Which was where finding other routes would come in handy.

To be honest, Remy's worst problems started when he'd been let off the leash, as it were, too. So he'd understand. "Pretty sure dat dose rules are de same for all parents, no matter where dey're at."

"Yeah - don't bring trouble home, if you break something you gotta fix it, and don't let the cops see your face - " She backs out of the cabinet she's been investigating with a bag in her hand. "Hoi, what about rubber bands? And there's permanent markers, that'll be useful for the vents - " she dives back in.

"Rubber bands are useful, yeah." They'll probably have to stop the raid in a minute. His pockets aren't as deep or as plentiful as the ones on his trench are. "Probably gonna have to leave it here for de moment. Least for me. An' dose rules soun' pretty familiar to me, too. Though for me, it was more not lettin' 'em see de eyes."

He'd always been good at losing people in crowds, but the eyes stuck out. And, after age ten, everybody in town seemed to know who he belonged to.

"I know a hole nearby we can stash stuff," Saturday says, filling her pockets. "Don't worry about it." She's also taking advantage of the empty grenade pouches around her waist. "I can imagine the eyes are hard to hide. Contacts, maybe?"

She's finished filling her pockets and straightens, chewing the last of her powerbar.

"My friend Maggie, she's got this massive tattoo of a dragon," Saturday stretches her arms out, to demonstrate, "but mages don't have to blend in so much."

"See I got a lot to learn." He doesn't mind. It's true of any new place, after all. "Contacts or shades, usually. Corporate overlords got de shades an' I wasn' carryin' de contacts when I got pulled here."

There wasn't a need when he was in uniform. The shades would do the job if the lighting was too sharp or bright, after all. "Mos' of de time, though, I don' worry much 'bout 'em now. But, den, I got more ways to defend myself dese days, too."

"Well, stand next to one of the centaurs," she advises. "No one will even notice the eyes."

Pockets full, she exits the storage closet and starts heading towards the nearest cache. It's not far - down the hall a ways, and then she hops up on a water fountain and pries a grate off the vent above it.

"Here y'go."

"De...centaurs. Right. Sure."

Look. He may be an X-Man and everything that goes with that. But centaurs are still a new one on him.

He follows her over, grabbing his map before looking up. "Dis the way to de hidey hole or de actual hidey hole?" Best to get that question answered before doing much else.

"The hole itself." She starts offloading some spare good of her own. "We're in a blindspot and the cameras don't work anyway. You hook behind right here, to the left," she demonstrates, grunting. "There's a little shelf kinda thing, out of plain view, about the size of a desk drawer."

She hops down.

"Easy peasy."

In the middle of the night/I go walking in my sleep

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