| A Chilly Sunday Night |
| Summary: | On a wintery Sunday evening, three unlikely people meet at a dive bar. |
| Date: | 2016-12-17 |
| Related: | None |
| NPCs: | None |
| Scene Runner: | NA |
| Social/Plot: | Social |
| Players: |
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A snowy, chilly, somewhat cold Sunday night a week before Christmas. It's not exactly the time for the Greenwich Village dive bar, Lucky 7s, to be packed. Really, who is drinking on a Sunday night, especially in a place that smells faintly of weed, doesn't really serve good beer, and isn't all that much cheaper than far more chic joints just a block or two down in St. Marks. Well, someone who is happy to be drinking away from the crowds, the fancy people, the shot specials. Someone who's just still getting a feel for things and preferred to take a drink somewhere she probably won't be recognized for her mark on the business world.
Pepper Potts sits alone at the bar, a hard, news print copy of the Wall Street Journal folded up in front of her and a glass filled with what looks like whiskey, and a few rocks, at her side. She's not smoking like a few other people in the far corner, but she doesn't seem bothered by it either. She's dressed as close to 'casual' as Pepper gets, in a pair of tight fitting jeans with a designer label and an oversized cashmere-blend sweater with one of those huge folded next that falls half off of one shoulder. At least it wasn't a business suit, right?
Thirty minutes ago, to her mind, Hope was talking with a strange, future version of herself. About the next thing she needed to do to make sure the future turned out okay. And then she came back, and she was…here. Well, not exactly here, but an alley in New York City that didn't smell so great and was definitely not the place to plan any next important moves. Also, it's cold out. And the thin jacket she's wearing isn't going to cut it. She made it a few blocks before she decided that stopping inside somewhere was the better part of valor and slipped into the Lucky 7's.
The door shuts loudly behind her as she walks inside, shivering and rubbing her hands at her arms. "Send me back, I said," she mutters. "Damned thing was probably broken."
Not all who wander are lost.
And not all who are lost care to be found.
Sitting in a booth near the door, mostly hidden in shadow is a figure. A man, likely, given the build. He sits sideways on the seat, booted feet propped up and crossed. The glow of a cigarette lights up his scruffy face a bit, reflecting in dark eyes. From that booth he watches the room, occasionally sipping from a bottle of beer. But, alas, the bottle is empty; there's nothing left. What's a mate to do? Call it a night or go get more?
As the door opens and the muttering redhead enters, Remy Lebeau, possessor of curious eyes and stealer of hearts and wallets everywhere stands, finding himself almost beside Hope, it seems. He offers a charming smile toward her. "Welcome, chere. S' cold out dere, hmm? dey got jus' de t'ing t' warm y' up from de inside firs'…" He gestures to the bar and the sketchy bartender lingering behind it.
It's not quite the cut of wind through the bar from the open door, or even Hope's muttering that turns Pepper's head, but the accented syllables of the man who has come out of one of the darkened booths? That's enough to draw the other, lighter red head's attention. Pepper's brows arch, green eyes flickering between Remy and Hope as she tries to read the situation. Figure out if they know each other. It doesn't take very long for Pepper to get a read of body language, gaze narrowed a bit. It's doubtful that Hope was expecting him.
That's enough to keep the hawk-eyed woman's attention. Pepper doesn't interfere, but she's watching the developing interaction with far more interest than her nose paper. Protective interest, considering just how young Hope looks. She wasn't going to let some skeevy man from a dive bar prey on some girl who probably wasn't even old enough to be in the place. Women had to watch out for each other!
"It's damned cold out there," Hope grumbles, taking half a step back when Remy slips out of the booth. Just far enough to take his measure and give herself a moment of space. Which is all she needs, apparently, to decide she's not worried. "Any chance the warm from the inside stuff you're talking about is a really nice stew? Chili?" She pauses, taking another look around the bar. "Nacho cheese?" The wonders of the modern world, ladies and gentlemen.
Remy LeBeau chuckles. "Gon' hafta ask ol' Ralph dere… 'e got a few t'ings t' eat an'way.." he gestures to the bar. "If 'e give y' any trouble, chere, jus' lemme know hmm?" He studies her a moment as if he were trying to place her. Then slips off toward the bar himself to get another beer, dropping onto a stool not far from Pepper. He flashes a friendly, if charming, smile toward her, offering a greeting. "Chere."
A slight ease comes to Pepper's shoulders as the man actually gives some protective advice in Hope's direction and *doesn't* skeeve all over her. The older redhead is pleasantly surprised. She gives Hope a slight wrinkle of her nose. "I don't know if I'd trust… well, much anything cooked in house here… but they do a hot toddy which isn't actually awful." That's the best Pepper can say for the place, damning with faint praise, but she's trying. Then her pale green eyes flicker back to Remy and she gives him a slight inclination of her head, "… Evening." She offers simply. Who in the world called ANYONE Chere any more?
"That sounds…" Hope trails off, shoving her hands into her pockets and grimacing. "Yeah. Actually, that sounds like something that's going to have to wait, because it looks like I didn't actually bring my wallet with me. I hope. Because if I left it where I was, then I'm never getting that back."
She hops up onto a stool, turning back toward Remy with a flash of a too-sweet smile. "I mean, unless Mr. Lebeau wants to buy me dinner to make up for that whole kidnapping and turning over to an evil asshole when I was a baby."
Remy LeBeau smiles to Pepper. He uses 'Chere' 'cause it's how he talks.
He looks back to Hope as she sits and he opens his mouth to oh-so-suavely offer to cover her drinks.
Then she goes and gets all mean and bitter over the past.
Remy looks at the young redhead with those black and red eyes. "…." He studies her closely. "… Hope." He thought she looked familiar and his shakes his head, "Remy ain' proud 'o dat at all, chere. Non'a'it. Wasn't good. Can' change any 'o it now.. but gon' live with regret f' it de res' o' Remy's life. Remy assure you o' day." Honest or not it certainly sounds the part and he doesn't seem to be acting.
The paler redhead arches a stark brow as she hears the echoes of family drama between the pair. SHe's polite enough to surpress most of the amusement from her face, but as Pepper turns back to her newspaper, she does calmly, rather off hand, remark in their direction, "Well…it seems like you could start making up for that regret by buying the young lady dinner. It is the least you can do." Yes, Pepper is still batting on Hope's side, for whatever protective instincts she has.
Hope considers Remy for a moment. Just a moment. And then she nods. "Okay then. So. Dinner?" No shame in the girl. After all, she turned out all right. Or alive, at least. Mostly all right. So no damage done. She winks over at Pepper, leaning an elbow on the bar. "But maybe not the drinks part."
Remy LeBeau doesn't hesitate as he looks from Hope to Pepper, "Chere… Remy ain' a saint. Grew up wit' sinners. Don' know much else." He offers a rueful smile that seems honest. He looks between the two. "Dis' aon de dinner kind o' place. But Remy'll buy bot' o' you dinner an' place y' like. And drinks. An' kind." He looks serious.
A slightly sly sort of smile crosses Pepper's artfully lipsticked mouth as she hears Remy's comment about buying Hope dinner and some drinks. She gives Hope a sideways little look — she'd wink if it wouldn't be QUITE so obvious — but the older woman certainly seems pleased with the outcome. Pepper's satin-rough voice comes a moment later, "I never said you were a saint, Mr… LeBeau, was it? Simply that you could do some patching up with a meal. I am glad you made such an offer. Family… those who knew us for who we truly are… or were, that's one of the… Most important things in the world. Especailly in a place like this."
"Hey, it all turned out okay, right?" Hope smiles faintly, though there's something a little too world-weary about it for someone her age. "I mean, to be fair, kidnapping me to hand me over to someone else was a lot less extreme than most of the people who were after me at the time, so. Could've been worse." She lets out a breath, looking around the place. "Sorry to interrupt your, uh. Drinks," she adds to Pepper. "I'm Hope. And I think I probably need a phone more than anything else."
Remy LeBeau looks to Pepper first. "We de kind'a fam'ly dat fight and argue all de time guess y' could say." He looks back to Hope and shakes his head, "Remy never meant anyt'ing bad f' ya, chere. truly glad y' seem safe." He reaches into his pocket and unlocks his phone, "Here. Keep it. S' paid up f' six months." He smiles. "Make y' call. Den' Remy get y' dinner."
Before Pepper entirely realizes what he's doing, the deep strawberry blonde pulls out her most up to date StarkPhone, about to hand it in Hope's direction, lips parted to make the offer. But then Remy is right there with a far better offer to keep it. She blinks, not entirely able to hide her surprise as he is being far more the gentleman than her initial drawn conclusion. "…Seems… you both have it in hand. Best of luck with everything… Really. And it's no interruption. I'm Pepper. And… pathetically drinking alone on a Sunday night, so… really. You're not bothering." She gives a half wry smile.
"Hey, you know. You learn or you die, right?" It's an awfully grim outlook for someone her age, but she seems oddly upbeat about it. "And I made it through worse." She takes the phone, frowning slightly at the offer to keep it. "I just need to make a call, make sure that…I just need to check in on Dad. And the school. The school's still in one piece, right?" she asks.
Remy LeBeau glances to Pepper and offers a charming smile (Empathically and all). "Ms. Pepper… s' a pleasure t' meet you, chere." He offers a half bow and smiles. "Remy LeBeau. An' we can' have y' drinkin' 'er havin' dinner alone." He smiles, then looks back to Hope. "S' true, chere. Ver' true. But dere's more t' life 'n just learnin' an dyin'.. Lot more." He then dips his head, "Keep it. S' clean. Promise." Always trust the King of Thieves to keep a burner phone that can't be traced, right? "Oui. School's still dere. Scott an' Jean.. all'a 'em really. Mos' anyway.."
A small, almost dismissing wave is given to Remy's touch of concern about her eating dinner alone. "It's quite alright, I've eaten. Just needed to get out of the house. You know how it is." Pepper offers almost half nervously — this place isn't somewhere that she's just getting out of the house. She's slumming it, for some reason. She just *screams* out of place in a bar like this, even in jeans and a knit sweater. Too elegant. Too refined. Hell, she had to have brought that news paper in, they didn't have that laying around here. Hope's questions about the school get a slightly more worried look, "Hope, if… you need a car or some money to get back somewhere… Just say. I know things are a bit.. messy these days, but I haven't read any reports about damaged schools, not recently. So… your… Uncle seems right about that." Though there is a deeper look of curiosity on her features. Maybe they were talking about something more than a regular school.
Hope looks relieved at first, at the news that the school is all right. Right up until other things are said. "Wait, what? Scott Summers who's in prison for- Jean Grey who's dead?" Her brows furrow and she sets the phone down slowly, giving it a long look at if it's about to tell her something else that doesn't add up. "I knew she screwed it up," she sighs. "Future me is an idiot."
Remy LeBeau looks at Hope. "Somet'ing like dat, chere…" He shrugs, "Y' know Jean… always comin' back when y' leas' s'pect it. No diffr'nt dis time." He then shakes his head some. "Why don' we get out'a here mm? Dere's a small Indian place jus' roun' de corner. Bes' curry dishes in d' city. Be better place t' talk den' here too, really."
The older woman blinks quietly at Hope's rather open questions about incredibly improbable things — including she having a future self that she can interact with in any way. Pepper makes a few more mental notes, studying Hope's face a bit deeper, committing it to memory before she turns to do the same with Remy. "…I'd generally say I don't know that it's quiet possible to have… met the future you, but anything seems possible these days." Pepper states dead pan for a heartbeat or two. She then gives them a bit of a nod. "You both be safe out there." And then she's turning back to her paper.