trans_9 | El Tango de Roxanne [Open]

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El Tango de Roxanne [Open]

Being on board the ship for as long as he had had begun to wear on Remy, making him incredibly stir-crazy. He'd been down to the city. He'd seen the statuary. He'd perused the media library. But there was only so much exploring a man could do before it became tedious. Only so many statues he could look at. Only so much sitting on his butt watching movies and television or listening to music that he could do. Even practicing his skills in the sensorium had become boring. Remy needed something to do. He needed...to go out...to socialize in a more comfortable setting (i.e. one not made out of pulsing flesh).

But since there was no way off the ship, there was only one way to actually 'go out.'

Stepping into an empty sensorium, Remy watched as the fleshy surroundings of Stacy were washed away and replaced with a large banquet hall. The walls were of white marble. The windows--which stretched from the ceiling down to the pristine wood floors--were framed by majestic purple drapes. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the hall in a sparkling light. Several rows of round tables, covered in white linen and topped with a pair of lit candles each, lined the walls, creating an empty circle that was the dance floor in the middle. In one corner stood a black grand piano and a small string orchestra that filled the room with music.

In the middle of the dance floor, ringed by several dancing couples, was a rather angry looking woman wearing a red dress standing with her white-gloved hands on her hips. Her dark brown hair, with the very recognizable white streak in it, rested on her bare shoulders. He felt his heart jump in his chest.

Realizing he was nowhere near dressed for this kind of going out, Remy turned only to discover that he was no longer wearing his plant suit and brown duster. Instead, he was clad in a dapper-looking suit, the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, exposing a bit of his chest, and a red silk scarf hung freely from his neck.

"Now dis more like it," Remy said with a pleased grin and began to saunter over to the all-too-familiar brunette.

"Gambit! Where in tarnation have you been?!" she demanded when he was a few feet away. "You make me git all dolled up fer a night out and then you have the nerve to leave me standin' here fer twenty minutes waitin' on yer butt? Were you raised in a barn or somethin'?"

"Non, chere," Remy replied, still drawing nearer, his lips frozen into a flirtatious smile. "You know Gambit make it up to you. He always do."

"Yeah, well that ain't good 'nough. You think you kin ask a girl out and then take yer time showin' up so you go off lolly-gaggin' around like some kinda..."

Remy cut her off, surprising her as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing her body against his. "Calm down, mon chere," he said, his voice low and soft. "I was a little nervous, dat's all. You have dat effect on ole Gambit. Or didn't you know dat?"

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushing lightly and her words seemingly caught in her throat for a moment. "Ah...Ah do?" she asked, uncertainly. "I mean...no, I didn't know...I mean...." She then pulled away, taking a step back and putting some space between them.

"Gosh darnit why you gotta be like that?"

"Like what, chere?" he asked, his grin widening. The charm appeared to be working. So far. In the corner, the string orchestra concluded its song and the opening notes of Por Una Cabeza filled the room.

"Like you," she answered, pulling away and folding her arms across her chest.

"Awww, come on, Rogue," Remy pleaded. "You know you like it."

"That's what you think," she said, stubbornly resisting to be swayed. "Ah got half a mind to knock you into next Christmas."

He grinned again. "Dat could be fun, non?"

She scoffed. "You are the most impossible pain in the butt...," she said, brushing past him angrily as she headed for the door. Before she got too far, Remy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to him.

"What do you think yer doin'?" she protested.

"I tryin' to ask you to dance, chere. But you don't let me."

"Dance?! Are you outta yer gumbo-lovin' mind?" Rogue said, making a half-hearted attempt to pull away. With her super-strength it would have been easy for her. Which meant, to Gambit, that she didn't really want him to let her go.

"Only for you, mon chere," he confessed just as the music reached its dramatic crescendo. With one sudden movement, Remy pulled her to him, pressing her body against his as he began to lead her through the tango. Through the build-up, his steps where slow and deliberate, tenderly leading her through delicate sways and gentle turns. But as the passionate climax hit, his movements became faster and more abrupt. Each dip and each turn was more passionate. Each spin and each step out was accompanied with a bigger smile. Each time he drew her back to him was done with more desire.

He fiery red eyes remained locked on hers, watching as the light from the chandeliers glistened in them, and seeing what appeared to be joy staring back at him. This was what he had wanted for so long but couldn't have. This was what he'd been hoping for, one moment alone with Rogue with the barrier that were her powers forgotten, ignored, unimportant. Just one moment when...

...and then she was gone.

Maybe it was because the realization that this wasn't real had popped back into his head. Or maybe it was his own way of subconsciously punishing himself. Whatever it was, whatever had caused, in the middle of a dramatic dip, Rogue had vanished...and Gambit now stood alone in the middle of the dance floor.

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"Well, that was quite pathetic, wasn't it?" a sharp, cold voice said, coming from the entrance of the Sensoriums. If Gambit cared to look, he'd see a willowy figure sheathed in cool, royal purple, her cold purple eyes staring at Gambit as an amused smirk spread across her lips. "Recreating your lost lady love with a subpar illusion." She pauses a few feet away from him. "I assume she's your lost lady love because of that expression on your face. So sad, so forlorn, so entirely pathetic." She raised an eyebrow. "How ever will you go on living?"

As Gambit turned toward the intruding voice, the illusions that the sensorium had cast dissipated along with that forlorn look that Projectra had noticed when she arrived. The room became a smokey billard hall and Remy's expression became one of annoyance. "Ain't no one asked you your opinion. Has dey?" he retorted, turning sharply and walking over to an empty pool table.

Projectra looked around at the new setting and grimaced. How banal, she thought to herself as she followed Gambit to the pool table. "You needn't ask me for my opinion, I assure you," Projectra replied, "I am more than willing to impart them on my own. Usually for the betterment of those around me."

"Mebbe you ought to better yourself first, mon chere," Gambit replied, taking a cue from the rack on the wall and chalking the end of it, "before you try betterin' Gambit. It make life easier on de both of us."

"I assure you, I am entirely perfect just the way I am," Projectra replied haughtily. "Nor did I come here with the intention to try and better you - I don't even know you," she added. "I merely came here to test out the illusionary capabilities of the Sensoriums and found you within here. I apologize if I've made you feel worse than you already are, though I doubt that's at all possible." She didn't grab a pole to play with him - does she look like she's from some heathen planet? - but she did watch him. "I am Princess Projectra," she added, by way of introduction.

Setting the chalk cube down on the ledge, Gambit bent down, lining up the tip of his cue with the white cue ball.

"Dat so?" he said, arching a brow as he slid his cue back and struck the white ball, scattering the striped and solid balls that were clustered at the opposite end of the table. "Well, I got news for you, princesse, perfect or non, you a snob. And Gambit don't waste his time with snooty little girls."

"I'm a princess. What did you think I was going to be? Down-to-earth and kind?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a fairy tale princess, dear. Beside, I already apologized to you, there is no need for you to be so rude."

"Ah-ha," Gambit exclaimed as he straightened, a wide, pleased grin plastered to his face. "So, de girl like to dish it out but she can't take it, is dat it? Typical. Look like you not so perfect after all, princesse."

"I can 'take it' as well as the best of them, even better in some cases. Don't underestimate me."

Leaning on his cue, Gambit eyed her for a moment. He was toying with her, having a little fun with Little Miss Haughty-Taughty in an effort to raise his spirits after the metaphoric kick to the balls he'd just gotten from Stacy.

"Dis is you takin' 'it'?" Gambit said. "Bon, if dat true den Gambit hate to see what you not takin' it look like."

"And how would you suggest I take it," Projectra asked haughtily. "Being of obviously lower social status, I'm sure you've taken it quite a bit."

"Gambit take a lot of tings quite a bit, chere," he teased. He might be being suggestive...or he might just be referring to his past as a thief. "Over de years I got good at it. But I tink you need a little more practice and mebbe you start with dat tiara you got stuck up your butt..."

He moves around the table and lines up his next shot.

"...but what do Gambit know."

Oh Gambit. While Projectra likes mysterious men with dark pasts and all that jazz (Timber Wolf is quite the perfect example of this), she's not easily won over.

She narrowed her eyes and dozens of balls appeared on the table. An illusion brought about by her, naturally.

"You think I behave inappropriately?"

"Mon Dieu!" he yelped at the sudden appearance of the other balls on the table. "What'd you do?" he demanded, looking accusatory at Her Majesty.

Projectra looked down at the table before looking back at Gambit. Putting on her best poker face, she asked, "What do you mean? I merely asked a question of you."

"Dat's not what I'm talkin' about," Gambit retorted, scowling at Miss Difficult. "De balls. Where dey all come from? What you do?"

Jono didn't do tuxedos. Mostly he just didn't think he looked that good in them. But, well, it was Gambit's program so in a tuxedo he was.

He hadn't tried to talk to this one, but he'd been around the one back home enough to know that that his usual form of communication likely wouldn't work well. Instead, he raised one hand when Gambit finally looked his way, fingerspelling the word 'Harsh' in American sign language.

Of course, the question was whether this Gambit even knew sign language.

Of course he knew sign language, which would help greatly considering this Gambit was just as resistant to telepathy as the one Jono knew--good thing to know that not everything changed between universes.

'Just like a woman,' he replied in ASL.

Jono's eyes turned up slightly, a wry look in them. 'Don't I know it,' he said, shaking his head ruefully. 'You don't need to sign. I can hear fine. I can't speak.' He pointed to his forehead with two fingers, the way he'd seen Professor Xavier do from time to time. Basically the sign he'd long ago started using for 'telepathy'.

Remy arched an eyebrow at the man who, for some reason, kept the lower part of his face covered. "Psychic?"

'Telepath'. Finger spelled again. ASL just didn't have a sign for it and while Jono himself had the personalized one, this obviously wasn't the Gambit he knew from home. 'Jono'. He pointed to himself.

In a Pavlovian way, Yuri had started to learn that sensorium=either cool stuff or her friends being angsty. So seeing an in-use pod, she readied herself. Yuri A was ready with hugs and simulated warm milk (thanks Kate!). Yuri B wanted to jump into whatever, as long as it wasn't too scary.

When she peeked her head through, she was dazzled. The sorroundings were like something out of a fairy tale. She could imagine Cinderella at this ball, or just as easily the Red Queen chasing Alice with her Card-Guards.

Her gaze travelled down from the great chandelier. For a moment she thought she saw a pretty young woman with white streaks in her hair but no, it was just Gambit-ojiisan, posed awkwardly, apparently practicing.

With his back to the door, Remy hadn't noticed Yuri coming in and was staring at the empty space that, up until a few moments ago, had been occupied by Rogue. His brow furrowed, he glanced around, first thinking that she'd flown off suddenly and was playing a game with him. But, no, she was actually gone.

"Rogue!" he called out, sounding both worried and annoyed.

Looks like Yuri A will be on the job tonight. She stepped forward, feeling the smoothness of the marble floor that contrasted with the bumpy chitin of the rest of the ship.

"Who's Rogue?" Her eyes were wide with concern.

Turning suddenly, Gambit was about to demand that the person who'd interrupted him leave immediately...until he saw who it was.

"No one," he answered. There were many things in his past that Remy preferred not to talk about with anyone on the ship, and Rogue was one of them. She was sore spot that he had no desire to expose to anyone. Especially since he'd have to explain why she'd left him in the first place.

"Just someone I used to know."

Yuri's seen that look. In Kumi's eyes when she thinks noone is looking and she's a million miles in the distance, leaning over the balcony. In the strong-jawed faces of TV drama stars.

Slowly she walked to Gambit and hugged with all her might. Her arms barely went around his torso and her head came up to his ribs somewhere.

Remy let out a loud 'oof' sound when the little girl surprised with an abrupt, tight hug around his waist.

"What dat for, petite?" he asked, looking down at her curiously.

He wasn't getting away that easy. Did he honestly think he could fool a little girl's intuition? No way.

"You must have loved her a lot."

"Non," he shook his head. He was lying. Anyone who knew him would have seen right through it, maybe. But Gambit had an air about him, an aloofness, that tended to make him convincing when he lied. His devil-may-care attitude made it easy for others to believe that he didn't care, and all the more easy for him to lie and convince them that he didn't.

"Gambit never loved nobody," he frowned as he lied.

Oh but not to Yuri. She thought she could smell the insincerity. Or maybe it was the cologne and aftershave he was marinating in. It made her nose twitch.

"Not even me?..." Ooh, that came out embarrassing. "I don't think so. You wouldn't look all sad when you couldn't find her if you didn't."

"What you talkin' about, petite?" Gambit replied, maintaining the thinly veiled lies that were his denials. "Gambit don't look sad. 'Cause Gambit isn't sad. And if I isn't sad, den I can't look it, vrai?"

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El Tango de Roxanne [Open]

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