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

"Pretty much. Had dem since I was a pup. Born wit' dem." The squint releases a bit so she can get a better look. But the lights are bright and his sunglasses are in his damned trenchcoat.

He snorts, crouching down to get a good look at the lock on the door he'd been ready to test. "Recruit. Draft. Same difference, far as dese cons are concerned."

When he crouches down to inspect the lock, she leans against the wall next to the door, conveniently blocking the view of anyone coming from behind her while she can keep an eye out for anyone coming the other way.

"People who rely on facial recognition must love dealing with you," she drawls. "Not that I'm implying anything, of course."

She's totally, absolutely implying something, but he's the one taking a good close look at a door lock. Maybe if she's helpful, he'll teach her a couple tricks that don't rely on magic.

"I'm Stacia, by the way."

Edited 2020-06-01 03:45 (UTC)

He can't help but grin at her movement. Not that he entirely needs the cover, but it's good to have. And the fact that she'd done it without him even saying anything says a lot about the sorts of things she's used to.

"Can't say as I've talked to many of dem, but my cousin occasionally curses me out 'bout it." Since Lapin was partly in charge of the Guild security in New Orleans. And Remy is part of putting together the security for the school, so THOSE cameras he knows can handle his eyes.

He glances up at her, giving her a lopsided grin. "Remy. Pleasure's mine, as dey say." And he absolutely does mean it. Or he seems pretty convincing that he means it. "Hmm. Don' s'pose you got a bobby pin or somet'in' like dat, Stacia?"

"Sadly, they took all of my bobby pins when I got here," Stacia says. "And I'm not confident enough in my skills to try and snitch them out of the hair of sober women, especially when most employees here are wary of getting in arm's reach of me.

She examines her nails and immediately regrets it. So badly chipped, ugh.

"Which segues nicely to 'by the way, I'm a werewolf'," she adds. "Non-contagious variety."

That gets a short, sharp French invective under Remy's breath, but he shakes his head. "Well. I wouldn' have a problem wit' doin' dat, but I ain't seen one of de ladies wit' her hair up." Not yet, at least. "Could use a paper clip instead, but I ain't got one of dem on me."

Not until later when he ran into Saturday, at least.

The last bit of it makes him look up, rocking back on his heels though not bothering to stand up yet. "Mutant ability or somet'in' else?"

It could be either. And he'd known a couple of mutant wolf shifters, after all.

"I don't suppose you're willing to give lessons in that particular skillset?" Stacia asks, because the worst he can say is 'no'. Well, the worst he can do is tattle to Jorgmund, but that seems unlikely at this point.

She shrugs. "Everyone in the know says it's magic, and I'm inclined to believe them. I gain about three feet in height and a significant amount of mass. I don't know what you're used to mutants being able to do, but that's not scientifically plausible where I'm from."

"Well. My real tools are in de care of de corporate overlords, though I doubt dey know what dey have." They'd have to be bothered to go through all the pockets in the trenchcoat to figure out what all was in there. And Remy isn't telling them. "Still. Locks like dese? Good place to start learnin'. Don' even need de right tools for it."

While he's not going to go out of his way to let the higher ups know what sort of skills he has, he has no problem letting at least a few of the other new hires know.

More because he's still sneaky enough to get away with it even IF somebody blabbed.

He straightens, making a thoughtful sound at that. "Believe me, petite. Mutant abilities? Dey make scientific plausibility cry on de regular. Still, if dere are a lot like you? Den magic is more likely."

Stacia never bothered to learn to pick locks back home because she could open them with a touch and a little magic. Too bad it had never occurred to her that she might have that magic stripped away.

"So that's a 'yes', once we manage to get our hands on something thin and wiry?" she asks. "Or does it work with any material of about the right size?"

She tilts her hand back and forth. "I wouldn't say that there are a lot of us, especially compared to the human population, but we're definitely a world-wide phenomena. Phenomenon? Bleh. And we've been around for awhile."

Plus all the spirits and realms and stuff. But she's still pretty sure it's magic rather than mutation.

"I take it that you're a mutant?"

That was a power that Remy would have coveted, though he would have depended on it too much. Better to know how to do things when the powers weren't working.

Which had happened to him more often than he ever wanted to admit.

"Thin an' wiry's easiest," he admits. "Well, one bit don' need to be so thin, really, but both gotta be able to get in de lock wit'out impedin' each other."

Remy hums, leaning against the wall. "Phenomena is de plural, so depends on if you're jus' talkin' 'bout werewolves or ot'er t'ings as well." He actually is a lot smarter than he lets on to most people. "An' oui, I am."

"I'll keep an eye out for stray pins, hairpins, or paperclips then," Stacia says. "Save the experiments with twigs for later."

She shrugs helplessly, spreading her hands. "There is so much weird magic nonsense lurking just beneath the surface of my world that I haven't the faintest idea if it's phenomena or phenomenon. But the knowing which is the singular and which is the plural will probably help on my SAT's, so thanks for that."

She cocks her head to the side. "Can I ask questions about you being a mutant, or would that be rude since we just met?"

"Merci beaucoup," he replied easily, grinning at her. "I can use twigs. Though, obviously, prefer not to. But I got ways 'round it if I need to."

Remy leaned against the wall, giving her a lopsided grin. "Can't say I ever took de SATs. Never did much worry 'bout goin' to college, so didn' see any need."

The grin widens and turns fuller at her question. "Don' worry 'bout dat, ain't rude. Questions are usual back home, even if it ain't 'sactly 'bout mutants in general."

Stacia laughs. "My parents are immigrants, and my older siblings are a doctor and an engineer. I'm not quite sure what I want to study yet, but I'm either going to go to college or I'm going to have to fake my death."

Also, it'll keep her from going completely feral and living in the woods for the rest of her life.

"I don't know enough yet to ask questions about mutants in general, but I always like to know where the boundaries are before I start nosing around," she says. "Asking questions and showing interest is one thing, being a nosy bitch is another. People don't like talking to the latter, and then I don't get to keep asking questions." She pulls her face into a dramatic pout, putting on a show of being a silly girl. He's meant to see through it. "It's tragic."

Remy's grin widens. "I only had de one brot'er, an' we bot' went into de family business." Which was as close to saying anything about the Guild that he wanted to at the moment. "Dad, mebbe he woulda liked me to go to college, but he never pushed it. An' I ain't so sure I woulda had the patience for it, neither."

Some things, he could be honest about.

The rest gets a laugh as he shakes his head. "Me? I al'ays heard dat you don' learn not'in' if you don' ask de questions, non? Jus' gotta be careful 'bout how you ask 'em, so dat people don' t'ink dey're gettin' peppered, dat's all."

Family business that doesn't call for a college degree? Stacia has a few ideas about what that could be.

She grins widely. "That's what I've heard too, and it's worked out pretty well for me so far. And on that note...is it just neat looking eyes, or did you get anything else out of your mutation?"

There's actually a lot of businesses that don't require college degrees when you have nepotism to fall back on. But given the fact that he's trying to pick locks, it might point to something a bit different.

The corner of his mouth tips up. "Non, ain't jus' de eyes I got." He reaches into the pocket of the jumpsuit and comes back up with...a deck of cards. He pulls out one, flipping it over to show the Joker. Which, after a moment, goes from normal card to covered in pinkish-purple energy as the atoms fill with explosive energy. "Dis is de interestin' part of it." He pulls the charge back with some effort, the red in his eyes glowing for a moment as he does. "It ain't de 'stent of it, 'course. Dat was jus' de charge. I let it go, it'll explode. But dis is de only deck of cards I got right now, so I don' wanna waste 'em."

Stacia lights up, though obviously not in the way the card did.

"That," she says, "is very cool. How big of an explosion? And are all the cards in your deck Jokers, or do you have a truly spectacular flair for the dramatic?"

That makes him laugh, though not in a mean way. It's the kind of laugh where he's definitely amused, but in the way a joke is meant to be shared. With her, not at her.

"De deck ain't jus' Jokers, non. I tuck dose at de back 'cause I was playin' solitaire earlier. An', if I lose de Joker? Ain't no hardship. No use for it in de main deck no how." He tucks the card away, back in the same place at the back of the deck. "Though ain't nobody who knows me back home gonna disabuse you of de idea I got a flair for de dramatic." He offers her a grin. "As for de 'splosions? Dat's somet'in' I got some control over. Could be jus' enough dat de card goes to ash. Or I could use several to clear an obstruction. Jus' depen's on what I need at de time."

To be fair, she wouldn't put it past him to have a marked deck, or be able to count cards (and if he does, she wants him to teach her). She giggles at his admission of a reputation for dramatics, but then it's back to the neat explosive options themselves.

"Does the size of the object limit how much boom you can put in it, or could you get a bigger bang out of, say, a brick? Or is it a cardstock-only kind of thing?"

"You got more atoms in a brick dan in a card, so yeah. Generally able to get a bigger bang outta one. Though it can be a bit harder to control how much bang you're gettin' outta it." He gives that a moment of consideration. "Also, takes a bit lon'er an' more energy. Normally, neither of dose are much of a pro'lem. Here, though..."

It was a lot harder to deal with the needs of his body when it came to replacing that energy on the current diet, after all.

Okay, so, more mass tends to equal more bang, but it'll take longer and it might get weird. It makes sense that he'd choose an item to specialize in, and a deck of cards is both a normal thing to carry around and something most people wouldn't assume is a weapon. Clever, clever.

"Do your powers not work as well here?" Stacia asks. Goodness knows hers don't.

Remy tilts his head in consideration. "Non. Powers're workin' jus' fine," he replies, then pauses. Because...it's not great, having to admit a weakness. But he doesn't know anybody here and somebody should probably know to be on the look out. Given everything, if one of his teammates were here, he wouldn't even have to say something.

But, wishes and horses.

"De pro'lem, petite, is dat it still works by de laws of physics. Gotta put energy in to get it out, hein?" He holds up the deck of cards. "So, e'ry card I light, dat takes some energy. De bigger I gotta go to charge somet'in', de more energy it takes. Dat, plus de fact I got an energy field workin' twenty-four-seven?"

She can probably work it out. He has a metabolism that's higher than average. And if she's been in the cafeteria, she knows what the meals are like.

It takes her a moment or two, but Stacia works through it. Her jaw drops slightly.

"Wow," she says. "The people who run fad diet scams must hate you."

She lowers her voice, leaning in a little. "There's a secret network on the hand-held computers. Some mystery person set it up so we can communicate without our corporate overlords seeing. A few people are working out solutions to the low-calorie diet option, you can let them know you want in."

She gets it faster than he might have expected, but he just gives her a grin and a laugh. "Dem an' anybody runnin' an "all you can eat" buffet."

He is listening, though, and nods when she tells him about the network. "I ain't had much time to go lookin' at it yet. But I'll keep dat in mind. I like cookin' so I can help out dat way, if nothin' else."

"Cooking is one of the duties we get cycled through," Stacia says. "I can follow a recipe, but I'm not particularly good at it. Unless you want me to eyeball meat on a stick over a fire, I've gotten pretty good at that. Any tips for a relative beginner?"

Bouncing back and forth from secrets to normal conversations. Like an adult!

"Ain't not'in' wrong wit' meat on a stick over a fire." He'd certainly done it a few times with his cousins when growing up. "But. Mos' of de basics ain't dat hard. Lotta improvisation based on what works well toget'er, hein?"

Remy grew up thieving and has been with the X-Men long enough that this is absolutely a normal conversation. Which probably says a lot right there.

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

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