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multiversallogs2011-11-04 06:57 pm
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Entry tags:
not a victim of a victim's life
Who: Remy LeBeau and Laura Kinney.
What: ~reunion.
Where: Around town, ending on the east side.
When: Over the course of the last few days; presently.
Notes: all the feels
Warnings: TBA.
Remy doesn't sleep much.
It's not stress, not even his personal demons keeping him up; he just doesn't have the time. A couple of days a week he meets with various people to work on their abilities - he's not the best with magic, so with Ilde it's mostly sign language and shape shifting. He thinks Claire's going to kill him soon, but he did warn her she'd hate it. There's a twenty-something blue skinned guy out by the shoreline that can turn people into rock sculptures that's a little unnerving. He turned a frog back, though. Progress.
He keeps up with Billy and Tommy the best he can. He's not a parent, certainly not their parent, but he refuses to turn his relationship with them into a tactical one, so he remains patient and attentive and does the best he can. Usually that means more leaving well enough alone than anything, though Tommy's been warming up a little lately.
At night he moves black market product - illegal imports through the glass, and run of the mill stolen goods. He trades in information most of all, wearing a pair of enchanted eyeglasses and passing himself off as Robert Lord, organized crime transplant by way of London! He's congenial but unnerving, and the people he employs and works with have settled into doing what he says easily. It helps that he's just that good, and turning a profit is as easy as saying pick a card. Sometimes he turns out guys from gangs who don't like him, sending them off towards Hawkeye. Considering he's supporting a household of four people, paying informants, and looking after Kate and Claire on the side, the money alone would make it worth it, but anyone who could see all sides of the operation would be able to tell just how far he's playing.
He checks in on Erik and hates it. He checks in on Clarice and hasn't decided how he feels about it yet. He comes home to Wanda, every time, and sometimes he fucks off on any and all work entirely to go talk to her, sit with her, take her out to breakfast.
When he thinks he's alone he paces.
If he can, he walks home from meetings in the evenings. Even though the weather's getting colder outside, he likes it, particularly the stretch between Mog Hill and Abrogate Green. It's relaxing, it's old-town quiet with trees and dirt roads. He smokes, sometimes he burns out whole packs of cards one at a time, methodical. He really fucking hates being trapped.
It's not stress, not even his personal demons keeping him up; he just doesn't have the time. A couple of days a week he meets with various people to work on their abilities - he's not the best with magic, so with Ilde it's mostly sign language and shape shifting. He thinks Claire's going to kill him soon, but he did warn her she'd hate it. There's a twenty-something blue skinned guy out by the shoreline that can turn people into rock sculptures that's a little unnerving. He turned a frog back, though. Progress.
He keeps up with Billy and Tommy the best he can. He's not a parent, certainly not their parent, but he refuses to turn his relationship with them into a tactical one, so he remains patient and attentive and does the best he can. Usually that means more leaving well enough alone than anything, though Tommy's been warming up a little lately.
At night he moves black market product - illegal imports through the glass, and run of the mill stolen goods. He trades in information most of all, wearing a pair of enchanted eyeglasses and passing himself off as Robert Lord, organized crime transplant by way of London! He's congenial but unnerving, and the people he employs and works with have settled into doing what he says easily. It helps that he's just that good, and turning a profit is as easy as saying pick a card. Sometimes he turns out guys from gangs who don't like him, sending them off towards Hawkeye. Considering he's supporting a household of four people, paying informants, and looking after Kate and Claire on the side, the money alone would make it worth it, but anyone who could see all sides of the operation would be able to tell just how far he's playing.
He checks in on Erik and hates it. He checks in on Clarice and hasn't decided how he feels about it yet. He comes home to Wanda, every time, and sometimes he fucks off on any and all work entirely to go talk to her, sit with her, take her out to breakfast.
When he thinks he's alone he paces.
If he can, he walks home from meetings in the evenings. Even though the weather's getting colder outside, he likes it, particularly the stretch between Mog Hill and Abrogate Green. It's relaxing, it's old-town quiet with trees and dirt roads. He smokes, sometimes he burns out whole packs of cards one at a time, methodical. He really fucking hates being trapped.
no subject
Remy can't imagine being mad at her for showing up - he understands, and maybe he's not really surprised, after all. No, it's a different sort of surprise; not that Laura is so determined, but that she bothered for him. It's not about his self esteem, it's about her attachments. Had he really made such an impact on this kid? Was he really doing okay? And, god, how badly must everyone else have been treating her that his efforts made this much of a difference?
... All right, so that's not exactly a surprise, either.
"Are you okay? How long have you been here?" Worry evident in his voice. He knows she can take care of herself on a functional level, but... who cares. He still wants to know.
no subject
She pulls back far enough to scrutinize him -- there are no injuries that she can see and nothing smells off, no blood. That doesn't mean anything. There are more ways people can be hurt than with their bodies.
"You have been gone for four months." She's not sure if time here passes the same as it does outside, but it's been four months for her. She pauses. "Paris was two years ago."
no subject
Two years.
For a long moment Remy just stares at her, processing that. It's not disbelief, and the shock of timelines isn't so great as the apparent reality that they stayed together - or close enough - to warrant this level of determination to follow him once she got that letter. (Really, local god of fucking communication, you couldn't deliver the damn thing on time?)
That settles it, anyway. She's supposed to be here.
"Shit, Laura. I'm sorry it got screwed over. Means I probably got back an' kept quiet about it."
no subject
She feels steadier, now, it's better -- she's not so overwhelmed by emotion. She can think again. "No one has ever left?"
no subject
Right now she seems so very young.
"There's theories that some people have," he tells her. "But there's a whole lot of creative ways for folks to die out here, so nobody knows for sure." He gives her a look, considering. "But you got my letter?"
no subject
Laura very briefly wonders if death is the way out -- then decides that's too difficult to test for various reasons. And not, you know, that it's just a terrible idea because it's insane. There's a lot of stuff she needs to learn before she goes about looking for an escape route anyway, but it's something she'll keep in the back of her mind.
no subject
Because if his letter got out, then there's at least one exit - and there's never just one of anything. If a letter can get shipped, even with some time fuckery, anything can get out. They just need to find a way.
"So a god delivered my letter - that's two paths out, no? The gods, an' whatever's controlling the arrival rooms. Not a bad start."
He tilts his head. "First though, you need dinner."
no subject
She's been to Hell.
Oh, right. Food exists. "Okay." She should probably shower (she's got leaves and shit in her hair, she's been sleeping outside) and change her clothes while she's at it, although... what the hell, superhero outfits, they're magic and never get dirty, apparently. You don't dry clean unstable molecules.
no subject
(On the subject of gods, Remy is far too jaded to think twice about it. The term has become one alongside 'mutants' and 'fae'; just another breed of life-form. Powerful ones, sure, but he's gotten hot dogs with half of Asgard before, so...)
"I'm livin' with Wanda and her boys," which Laura surely already knows, if she's been here for five days, but he's just going to talk anyway because that's sort of what he does, "I bet they'll be out, at this hour, do you wanna go back there first?"
no subject
She pauses to consider this. "Okay," she says again, then heads in that direction, which. Of course she knows where it is, that's another X-Men thing. "I was stalking you because I care." "Oh, that makes sense then."
no subject
"Anything goin' on that I need to know about?"
He'll let her field that as she sees fit. Social graces aside, Laura is a tactician he's comfortable putting trust in.
no subject
For now, it's enough to be here. She can't quite relax -- she will never relax, she will always be looking for that gun to her head, the knife in her back -- but there's an almost pleasant feeling to this that's a little like that. Having done what she set out to do -- the feeling is familiar and one that she will never outgrow. Mission accomplished.