Post by Remy LeBeau on Jun 17, 2006 19:04:08 GMT -5
Easily plucking the wallet from the man's pocket, Remy LeBeau apologized graciously to the man he had bumped into, and slipped away, into a nearby alley.
He quickly took the cash from it, and threw the wallet itself into the dumpster. With a smile, he counted it quickly. $500 bucks. Nice.
He moved back into the streets. This time he wasn't looking for a potential victim. This time, he was heading to his home sweet home - the room above the garage he worked at.
Funny. A professional, Guild-quality thief, resorting to petty jobs, and pickpocketing. But this was a simpler, lower-profile life. Just what he needed right now, to sort things out.
Belledonna, for one. He'd loved her once, but now...the very mention of his fiancee made him feel a sense of dread. He dreaded the day his exile was up, when he was supposed to return to his home and marry the girl.
Five years to go. He hoped they were very long, joyful years. Years the, during which Belle found herself someone else. Unlikely, but a guy could hope, no?
Entering his small apartment, he pressed the play button on his answering machine, and moved towards the kitchenette fridge, opening it.
"Bonjour, y'v reached Remy. Ain' 'round righ' now, leave y'name'n' numb'r, an' I migh' get back t'y'."
He smiled slightly, and bent to get a drink from the fridge.
"Hey Remy! It's Belle! I fin'ly foun' ya, hon!" the shrill voice sounded even shriller through the speaker, and his head shot up, slamming the back against the fridge's inside.
He stepped back, straightened, and glared at the machine, one hand on his head. Great...
"..An'way, call m'love. I miss y'..."
He erased the message, removed his coat. No. Way. Was. He. Calling. Her.
No. He wasn't going to. He was going to go someplace, forget about it.
He turned and left the apartment, heading downtown. There was a pretty decent club around, and he was hoping to enjoy his night.
Once at the club, he took a seat by the bar, and eyed the other locals. A few girls, not so many, really. Normally the female population picked up in a couple hours. He ordered himself a burbon, and kept his sunglasses-covered eyes moving, watching everything.
(Tag: Whoever. Someone from X-Men with recruiting in mind, hopefully.
)
He quickly took the cash from it, and threw the wallet itself into the dumpster. With a smile, he counted it quickly. $500 bucks. Nice.
He moved back into the streets. This time he wasn't looking for a potential victim. This time, he was heading to his home sweet home - the room above the garage he worked at.
Funny. A professional, Guild-quality thief, resorting to petty jobs, and pickpocketing. But this was a simpler, lower-profile life. Just what he needed right now, to sort things out.
Belledonna, for one. He'd loved her once, but now...the very mention of his fiancee made him feel a sense of dread. He dreaded the day his exile was up, when he was supposed to return to his home and marry the girl.
Five years to go. He hoped they were very long, joyful years. Years the, during which Belle found herself someone else. Unlikely, but a guy could hope, no?
Entering his small apartment, he pressed the play button on his answering machine, and moved towards the kitchenette fridge, opening it.
"Bonjour, y'v reached Remy. Ain' 'round righ' now, leave y'name'n' numb'r, an' I migh' get back t'y'."
He smiled slightly, and bent to get a drink from the fridge.
"Hey Remy! It's Belle! I fin'ly foun' ya, hon!" the shrill voice sounded even shriller through the speaker, and his head shot up, slamming the back against the fridge's inside.
He stepped back, straightened, and glared at the machine, one hand on his head. Great...
"..An'way, call m'love. I miss y'..."
He erased the message, removed his coat. No. Way. Was. He. Calling. Her.
No. He wasn't going to. He was going to go someplace, forget about it.
He turned and left the apartment, heading downtown. There was a pretty decent club around, and he was hoping to enjoy his night.
Once at the club, he took a seat by the bar, and eyed the other locals. A few girls, not so many, really. Normally the female population picked up in a couple hours. He ordered himself a burbon, and kept his sunglasses-covered eyes moving, watching everything.
(Tag: Whoever. Someone from X-Men with recruiting in mind, hopefully.
)
