The White Tiger

June 28, 2014: Two thieves after the same thing end up unlikely wing men.


A club.


*Yakuza Thugs

Mood Music:
Volume Up by 4Minute

Night-time just across the river from Gotham in NYC Remy LeBeau aka Gambit sits perched atop a idle 2012 Harley-Davidson Dyna. Hell of a bike and one the mutant actually bought. His attire being a deep brown-leather motorcycle jacket (much shorter than his usual trenches), a helmet (safety first) that hangs off of his hip and a casual set of jeans and boots. A cigarette sits perched upon his lips, smoke tendrils trailing upwards above his head; recently he'd been informed while at his favorite bakery there is a rather expensive trinket in the form of a White Tiger called Baihu residing in the club just across the roadway. No surprise said club is full of Yakuza looking thugs, however. Gambit thought it would be easy to go in and come right back out but he'd stick out like a sore thumb with this crowd.
Thoughtfully the man takes another long drag, his red on black eyes locked on several of the groups wandering in and out of the entryway. Two bouncers, both short, squat and as wide as the door frame they guarded were playing blocker.

Intel travels, so it is of no wonder that Felicia would happen to be there, perhaps behind Remy, for once not above. The idle click of heels may gain his attention, though it could have mingled with the idle chatter of those leaving the club and entering. A flow of the finest silk dances among her thighs; black garb wrapped loose enough to accentuate her figure that also hides the various trinkets beneath. Instead of the signature white hair, tis black, dancing along her bosom and carefully swiped from her eyes by her covered finger, an arm reaching up to give a light tap to his shoulder as she sidesteps to stand near the back wheel of the Harley.

"You aren't dressed for the occasion. For shame." She teases, eyes placed upon the entry of the club, small handbag tucked beneath her arm which is soon brought out to be opened and fiddled with.
A blink, drawn out and a long stare given the woman who aside from the clickity-clack of high heels damn near snuck up on him, "Whoah." Outloud that is said, not kept hidden away behind the cigarette and those slightly open lips.
"No, belle femme, not so much no." Straightening up he pushes the bike to a stand on it's own, the cigarette plucked from his lips as he takes off the jacket and sets it across the back, a button up black shirt that hugs his lean frame, one that with a few snaps opens up and he looks like he could fit in with the club scene, not as fancily dressed as the rest but perhaps looks will make up for it?
Grinning at the woman, Remy offers his hand, "Name be Remy LeBeau, you seem a bit out of place here, no? Perhaps you goin' same places as dis lonely man tonight eh? Might even do you good to have a strong healthy young escort with you." That grin grows in to a large smile and his head cants just slightly towards the club. Even if he has forgotten the reason he came here in the first place upon seeing the stunning Felicia. He was after a gift for Selina Kyle… the Catwoman, now that thought seems to have drifted. Such is the way of the scoundrel.

Her rifling produced a shade of lipstick that compliments her tone; ruby red, it drew out her eyes. A pop of the cap and a quick smear upon lush lips, her eyes darted towards him as she presses her lips together to create a loud pop that echoed like a snap in a lonely field. "Aha.. much better." He was a fine looking man, she couldn't deny, by her own designs and needs for the Baihu remained wrapped in selfishness, no gift giving to others, only herself. And, just because she could.

"Remy LeBeau.." She echoes, one brow raising and lower again to compliment the winning smile that she produces. Her gloved hand reaches to take his in a very light shake, then returns to fiddling with her purse yet again, returning the lipstick and retrieving pearls. "Perhaps. You mind?" The pearls were held out towards him so that she could turn her back and be fitted, "I suppose I could use an escort, it also never hurts to have one as handsome as you at my side from time to time." Ech. She really didn't need him, but what's a little thrilling and fun than to rescue a man who thought he didn't.

"Joie de vivre." The rogue says with a smile and a wave of his hands before they find the necklace clasp quite easily, deft talented fingers neatly clasping it in place on her neck. His riders gloves on the side of bizarre, thin, almost non-existant with bizarre cut patterns that leave some of his fingers open. A brush of his pads touch along her neckline and shoulderblade before retracting hands finding his bike to start locking his things up before he offers his elbow over, "Perhaps with you at my side they be overlookin' some of our obvious lack of club attire." General looks also. Remy doesn't wanna sound racist but he's noticed a trend here. Money talks though, as do other things. One more once over glance gifted to Felicia before he aids her across the road and in to the short line up front. Taking up their spot he speaks once more, "So, belle femme, you have me at a disadvantage, I don't yet know your name or shall I just make one up for you?"

"Our obvious lack of club attire?" Felicia questions, she was obviously dressed for the occasion, though she did think that she could show a little bit more cleavage, for distractions sake. She takes his elbow and walks with him, keeping up with his pace, all legs and a stride that says she knows what she was working with, but did not intend to sell. As they que up, she had to think for a moment, offer her name or leave him guessing. She didn't know if he lied or not, but perhaps him knowing will add to the thrill of the chase.

"Felicia. Felicia Hardy. Though I do wonder what type of name you would have cooked up for me, it could be entertaining while we wait for our turn to.. impress the boys over there." One eye winks towards him as she glances towards the bouncers, they were getting close. Most were turned away disappointed, while others entered with a nod from the one on the left.

"We e one at the moment, no? My outfit reflects up on yours." Remy teases with another of those quick grins but of course he meant himself alone in the club attire. She was if anything overly ready. Jaws will be dropping.

Their turn at the doorway and the two men who look like Oddjob from James Bond on steroids actually physically shove Remy LeBeau as he is about to make a remark toward's Felicia's name. "Oh, dat was quick."

"No, not you. But you can go in." The man gruffs while waving the platinum haired woman inward, his hand staying splayed out on Remy's chest.

"But friend, you see, I cannot let her go in without me. Her father is a very wealthy important man and he would have all our heads if she is alone. Can't fault a man for his job right?" Remy's hand begins to rise up, to press back the shades that have been sitting on the bridge of his nose. Perhaps a little persuasion required… works best on the opposite sex but when necessary… Hislus the night just started. Why would any man with decent taste want to be separated from this hellcat?

There was a pure, honest look of sadness that appeared across her features as Remy was pushed aside. One thought that she would burst into tears at the moment, yet on the inside? She was laughing. "He's right.." She cooed, her words turned silky smooth, laced with luck in Remy's favor. "My father adores me, and he employed this dashing young man to keep me safe. If.." She even had the nerves to sniff after that word, her eyes flitting up towards the sky to mark the despair that was growing within. "If.. something were to happen to his little girl inside this very club, and if he were to hear that you denied him entrance.." She takes a step closer to the man that held Remy back, her hand lightly reaching up to press against his chest in an earnest plea. She need not say anymore.

Fingers dance along the lapel of his jacket, lightly toying as her bottom lip trembles. "Please, just this once." Would she make it worth the guards while? Nope. The rest was up to Remy to get himself in, she just gave him a stroke of good luck.

Words, flirting, manipulation, lies, luck? Or maybe the guy behind the camera saying, "Let them in." Something works and the man releases his grasp on Remy only to grin down at Felicia, "I get off at 2. Find me here." Bold of him, almost as bold as his hand giving her ass-to-hip a squeeze. It's at this point she'll realize he is also shorter than her and has a great vantage point.

"Thanks, homme." Her new companion says before his elbow in hers gives a freeing tug away that has them slipping past the bouncers in to the dimly lit yet colorful insides of the club. Electro-trance-club-music blares from one end to the other as the predominately Asian crowd surges to-and-fro in a wild orgy of dance. It's like stepping in to Hong Kong during the night phase suddenly. One would no longer think they were in New York City anymore.

"Dis be interestin'. Lets go get a drink then you tell me why you come here, maybe bout yourself, yeah? I grow more curious by de minute."

The squeeze was met with internal disgust, however, the relieved look upon her features and a small, seductive smile was wrought with a final, delicate pat to his chest. "Sure." She wouldn't find him there, she possibly would be long gone before 2, at least that was her plan. She had things to do, people to see, money to practically bathe in. Thankfully freed from the smaller mans grasp, she steps into the club, her eyes soon finding all of the exits, vantage points, routes, brain working at just where that lovely trinket may be hidden, among other things.

"I can answer those questions easily without a drink. I come for the music, the dance. About me? There is nothing more to know other than.." She was the reason he got in. But she wouldn't dare be so cocky to cannon fodder. She continues though, her elbow dropping for his in favor of his hand. "..I want to dance.." And at this, she'd lead him towards the dance floor, closer toward a particular stairwell that would lead to the all too usual offices hidden in the back.

"Aw see but Remy wanted a drink." The man pleads playfully before following her towards the dance floor. His eyes studying her just as much as the club. It's crowded and he's one of the tallest here. Doesn't make it easy for a thief to act like a thief when you stand out… a distraction is necessary."To dance though, with you, dis probably beat a drink." He conceeds before his hand finds her hip and he tugs her in close enough she'll be at his chest a moment then the moving with yet against her begins. Obviously the Cajun is not affraid to move. He actually likes to dance on occassion, not as much as he likes to drink, but to dance? That just comes naturally to everyone or should. "So, Felicia… you got your head on a swivel, why dis? Why here? Questions time. No drink means I got to occupy dis mouth somehow." Those nicely shaped lips of the man curl up in another daring smile.
The stairwell is unguarded and vanishes in to an above alcove, the VIP area and the inner sections of the club. Probably also where Baihu is kept.

His little plead and tease about the drink finally brings out laughter from the woman. Her trek to the dancefloor gives Remy something a little bit more to look at as she times her hips to the third beat of the techno music that plays throughout the club. The release of his hand brought on the little turn that brought her chest to his, her arms drawing to rest upon his shoulders as she looks to the right and left of him. Guards were about the club yes, but they were obviously distracted by the many things that would keep their eyes busy.

"Why not this? Even though this isn't my usual haunt.. the drinks are good, and in the afternoons, the sushi is better." She was forcing him to move, one leg lifting to press thigh against his as she leans in to whisper, lips dangerously close to the lobe of his ear. "And they have something I want." That should be clue enough that they were after the same thing, however.. she didn't know this of him. "Why you?"

"I was just curious. I heard dis was a place to unwind…" A lie. Remy can't help it. He's got a gift. "But I suppose I tings be here I want also." More of those sly smiles as she pulls in against him, his hands easily molding to her body to find a curve of hip and the back of her shoulders as she is tucked in neatly, formed against him in their dance.
"What is it they have? Maybe dis handsome escort of yours can help out." Curiosity just grows even more as she speaks and it just seems to strike a chord. This woman's got his lingo down. Could she be here for the same reason he is? Coincidence perhaps.

"It is." It was truth, though. When you want to get away and lose yourself, this club was one of the many places to go." She'd be foolish to think that she was the reason why he would be here, no, she wasn't that full of herself. However, it was nice to dream and a little smile to attest to that went a long way. Still, inwardly cringing at the way he touches her, it was something she had to, at least in this instance, to get used to.

"Hm. I don't know if I should tell you or not. However, it is something beautiful. Something that I'm sure many tried to get and have failed, where as I.. would not." Cocky. But there was a thought, could this young man actually be efficient at getting what she wants? Time would only tell. The way she dances with him though, had him turning so that he could view the entrance to the V.I.P area, and her back soon turned towards him, pressed tightly, head leaned back, cheek to cheek so that she could speak without lording her voice over the bass. "I want upstairs." Spoiled demand for spoiled times.

/You and me both./ Remy's thoughts chime as he glances around while she turns about. His limbs untangling to drift off of her and at his sides as they continue to look like they belong. "Be a way I imagine. Jus' have to finger it out… money speaks volumes. Remy has some o' dat."

Stepping away from her the mutants feet hit the bottom of the stairs and he starts to ascend, one hand taking one of hers as he suddenly begins to laugh louder as if she'd told a joke, which she hadn't. "Oh, you got to be kiddin' me, he really did that? You never struck me as de sort o girl who liked dem tings." A few more steps ascended and two women on the well stepaside, too busy with their phones and eachother to care about them, once upon the top they can see the shadowed window of the VIP lounge and across from it a mirrored window but inside this LED lights, displays, men in chairs. The security room. Fancy looking and glow lit as the rest of the place, kinda like that movie, Swordfish. One man stood in the hall watching over both doors. Thin, waspy built but very serious looking with a toothpick hanging out of his lips and cowboy boots. Snakeskin no less.
"Nice boots." The uncannily perceptive Cajun remarks. For now the man leaves them be as they stand at the alcove, just looking like two lost drunks enjoying a view from above. Apparently being on the stairs is safe enough.

Felicia was reminded of two things. She needed to have her butler get her dry cleaning, and two, the scene in fight club. It was just playing through her head, when Darla tried to overdose and called Tyler and then the police. How she stumbled and sat down upon the bed and fell right off, which made Felicia laugh right in time with Remy. She could add in a little story or two that could have been real, but that would have been all too revealing. Her eyes kept moving the entire time, counting the stairs, even judging the level heights of the bannister that lined the wall, hip height. Out of code, she thought. But workable. The two women on their phones, a disconnect in society, and the displays that noted the cameras placed about the club above and below. Interesting.
"They're ugly." She commented idly, her gaze darting from left and right. She disengages from Remy and went into business mode, backing against the wall with her hands behind her back, purse tucked in between. The fun was about to begin.

"Who? Oh the boots. Not a fan of snakes?" Remy strikes up idle convo. He more pointed out the boots than actually thought they were nice. It was so out of place. "What you doin', belle?" Following almost casually now but avoiding the doors, his fingers fish out a cigarette not lighting it - just sticking it between his lips. Damn does he wanna light it though. The out-of-place-cowboy-security-guy pays them no mind for now. They're beneath notice until they do something really weird.
Black Cat has reconnected.

"Nothing." Is all that Felicia says, leaning her head back against the wall wildly distracted about what she actually was doing. Inhale.. exhale..
"Man, I gotta take a piss." One of the men in the chair barks out, reaching out for his cup of coffee as he attempts to slide back his chair so that he could stand.. but a funny thing happens. The chair wheel disengages; snapping off clean to send the man flying back. Coffee in hand, the cup spills all over the keyboard and the console, only for it to spark madly. Those sparks? Caused his co'worker to unleash a slew of swears as he too slides back, only to suffer the same fate as his compadre.
It was then that Felicia moves, stepping away from the wall so that her purse falls and everything inside with it, spilling onto the floor as long, strong legs glide purposefully towards the cowboy. Her hands join together to pinch at the tip of her fingers, making way for the sharp claws attached to burst forth through expensive fabric. She was all business now, no more flirting, fun and games, just criminal intent.

And here Remy thought he was working on a plan to get the Baihu and use Felicia as a distraction. Woman works quickly and is already striding towards Roadhouse. The security room is lit up with curses and men scrambling to wipe down monitors and keyboards as sparks light up, several lights nearby flicker as the entire wall outlet surges. Not good for the club.
"What you doin' chere?" The cardshark asks clearly on the side of confused now.
The cowboy looks at the security room then the purposeful stride of Black Cat, "Go. You go." He almost snarls. One of his hands lifting up and curling in the other doing the same, it looks like he is about to bust out some Bruce Lee. "Go before I hurt you. No place for you."
"Maybe you best listen to him. Looks like he mean him some bidniss."
Remy's left hand has already slid a card in to the fire alarm near the stairwell, one that is about to go off in about five seconds with a pop-splode that will send the whole club screaming out the door. Should be enough of a commotion for him to slip in past the security room and in to what he imagines is an office or flat beyond that should have the artifact. All dis for what? To make a girl smile. Nah, this is for kicks too. It's what makes life fun and all.
Black Cat has partially disconnected.

"Working." Felicia called out towards Remy, and continues her advance. Claws outstretched, she reaches up to tug the pearl necklace from her throat, sending the little white orbs flying and sprawling towards the ground in Roadhouses' direction. This was going to be easy. She really had no snarky words for the man, all she did was smile and begin him forth. "Don't be so mean, I just only want a peek." Okay, so she did have words, but we digress.
As Cowboy Bebop advances, and slips.. and catches his balance with a flail of arms, Felicia takes that advantage to advance and quick jump, planting both boots into his chest to send him flying. She did it with so much ease that she lands upon both heels with a fake flailing of her own arms to catch her balance that she really did not need. It was on like Donkey Kong.. or.. some other fictitious video game ape.

Remy finds himself just watching and enjoying the show now even as the explosion behind him rocks out a small jet from the wall, power in the club goes out now until the generator kicks in, axillary lights firing up in spotted locations throughout the structure. Dim lights, lights that create a lot of shadow.

"I'm startin' to tink you ain't just some club bunny I picked up to make me look good." The quick Kill Bill scene between the Cowboy and Felicia no longer holds Remy's attention as the security door opens up and two men step out, each packing heat. Dashing in to action himself Remy disarms one and kicks the other squarely in the center of the chest, sending the man back in to the security room with a loud crash. THe other man's guns and wrist still wound up in LeBeau's own grasp ends up being twisted in a full circle to land with a crack on his face-shoulder-neck. Painful but he isn't going to be shooting anyone. Shouts can be heard below, yelled instructions in what sounds like Japanese for people to begin getting the hell out. It's not an orderly exit at all. The VIP Lounge door is now opening as well, a wave of people flooding between Felicia and her dance partner (not the Cajun), the man actually ends up trampled and kicked by a few.
Distraction created. Louder than wanted but it's there.

The lights dim, and Felicia gaze goes towards the ceiling. Thankfully, no sprinklers, she hates getting wet. The sounds of a fight catch her attention as she turns to garner a look at Remy, clearly impressed at his moves. 'Not bad.' She thinks to herself, her brows shooting up in wonder as she turns her back towards the cowboy. That little distraction would have proven bad, if it weren't for the crowds of people moving from the V.I.P section to trample her once foe. Glancing back, and following the line of people, she moves towards the edges, fingers in pockets of the many to tuck money into her top, and into the security room to disable it further.

She came in without her costume, and she was going to leave the same way. Her earlier quick glance at the room told where the video discs would be held, a push here, a few typed commands there, and each CD ejects from its place, all for the taking. She searches around quick for a case to carry them in, and puts them inside.. finally emerging from the room to tuck -that- into her top as well. Those things were great for holding stuff, amirite?!

Remy's more of an eye on the prize sort and Felicia may be raiding the place like a five year old in a pantry he's slipped past the security room and in to the small hallway beyond stepping over a man he clubbed violently with a heavy chair he's now inside the back room, a lush, overly impressive flat with inset hottub, giant flatscreen TV and a plush bed. All overlooking the club below through a multitude of one way mirrors.

A seriously impressive set up for a perv with taste. Baihu is situated neatly on the desk next to two of his kindred, a yellow sun with a Dragon curled up in it and an Azure Dragon. The Emperor and some other direction. Remy doesn't remember but they're Chinese in origin, maybe that is why he heard about this, the Lucky Hands and Triad gangs in Gotham were talking about Yakuza here in NYC having gotten a hold of these.
To steal or not to steal and where is Felicia?
It's the smoke that starts to curl up from the wall explosion that sets off the much dreaded showers above. Poor Cat thought she wouldn't get wet.
As Remy takes another scan of the room a gun click is heard, he knows that noise all too well and is already uplifting his hands, "Hey, now, I was only makin' sure everyone was out of de buildin'" No point in turning around, he knows someone is standing there and now poking him in the back of the neck with what feels like a snubnose.

Felicia was sure while she was gathering video evidence.. and home movies to watch over popcorn for more secrets, that Remy would be right behind her. So when she steps out into the hallway to look for him, he was long gone. "Shoot." She mutters, hands placed upon her shapely hips as she lets out a little sigh to head for the stairs. Maybe he's down there. And then.. sprinklers. "Double shoot!" She shrieks, her hair and thin fabric gown already becoming soaking wet. A quick shuffle and kick, and she was out of her shoes, heading back into the security room. Her steps were unnaturally quiet, eyes planted upon the backs of Remy and the man with a gun, and a small smile curls upon her lips. "If you pull that trigger, you'll be sorry.." She pipes up, a little sing song in her voice as she raises her hands into the air. She was unarmed, save for the claws, which wiggled tauntingly at the man. "Seriously. Don't shoot him." Were they going to give up and walk out empty handed?

The heavyset club owner is a large man, rounded and covered from head to toe in tattoos. Colorful ones with angry faces and lots of samurais. His hair was long falling down past his shoulders and his lips are curled back in to an enraged sneer. "I'll kill him before you can so much as move. Besides, what are you going to do?" His dark eyes roam her wet frame, from top to bottom and then again. "Huh, bitch? What you gonna do?"
"Dat be no way to talk to a lady, homme."
"You shut up pretty boy. You speak again I paint my walls with your brain." The barrel of that handgun shoved roughly in to Remy's neck on emphasis.
On the desk is her prize sitting alongside two others of the set.

She cringed. She hated being called a bitch. Thankfully he didn't call her a cunt, or heads would have rolled. Her eyes looked around the room in a quick glance, there was her prize, and a little extra too! Maybe, if they make it out of this alive, Remy could have the two while she kept the one, or vice versa, which ever. She would have been happy with two instead of one, but.. to continue on..

"What am I going to do?" She asks in return, hands still raised, yet fingers pointing towards a gun at the man who keeps Remy honest. "Well, I'm going to watch your friend here pull the trigger and possibly kill my friend. -Possibly-." Who knows how that bad luck will work, at best, Remy might have ringing ears, maybe lose a strand of hair, but luck will be on his side and he'll live. Probably. "And when that happens, I'm going to kick his ass. And after I'm done kicking his ass, I'm going to use his ass to kick your ass. And then, I'm going to walk out of here with you stuff. And that safe that you have hidden in the floor." She pauses now, cheeks bunching up in thought. It was a little cute too. "Actually, skip. I'm going to skip out of here. Maybe dance a little. Depends on my mood."

"Not a real fan of your negotiatin' skills, chere." Remy says with a light chuckle before he launches forward one foot snapping back to kick the fat man in the gut at the same time as the weapon goes off with a pop the round connecting with the thief's shoulder which illicits a grunt before he is hitting the floor and rolling.
Stumbling backwards the hefty club owner slams in to the side of his hot tub only to try and re-align a shot on Felicia, figuring he's already killed Remy. "Going to die you filthy… " It trails off here in a fast very graphic Japanese string of cuss words and promises that involve Felicia, her family, her body and much use and blood. Also perhaps something about a monkey.

"Sorry!" She quipped, childlike and fun, cause really.. this is all that it was, pure fun and thrilling for her. As Remy moves, so does she, bare feet quickly padding towards the desk as she turns once she hears the shot, and Remy was down. Okay. So that didn't work out how she expected, but that was alright. As he lines up the shot towards her, her arms lift again, a look of surprised shock upon her face as she holds her breath. His slew of words causes her to tilt her head, her lips pressing into a thin line and.. "Bang!"
*BANG!* The man shoots but the gun backfires, she wasn't sure if it shredded his hand or not, but she turns away from the price to rush towards him as he clutches his hand. A jump and a knee was extended to connect towards his chin, causing his teeth to chatter violently and his body to flip backwards. She goes a step further, following through with a step in his direction in a raised foot to smash into his face. With a whip of her head back towards Remy, she tries to re-align her priorities, though those trinkets were looking mighty fine. "Remy, get up!"

"Am I on de floor?" Remy asks from well… the floor. Straightening up on one arm he wobbles then falls again before using a single limb to straighten up to a stagger. "I tink I mighta been shot again." Again? Sure. Maybe not around this woman but it's happened. Wincing he nudges his shoulder with the other hand then makes a step towards the Baihu and it's siblings. "Got what I came here for anyways. Worth." He says attempting to look charming even though he's obviously hurting and babying his arm.

"Yes." Felicia answers, and as he stands she begins to rifle through the mans pockets. Pulling out whatever wasn't tied down, she tucks that into her top as well, which was starting to look like such a bulky mess. She glances up and sees him going towards the trinket that she was after, then frowns. "Wait a minute, you're here for that too?" Yeah, they were a bunch of thieves going for the same thing, and this could end totally wrong if she let it.
She stands from the fallen man and walks towards Remy cautiously, a clear look of disapproval upon her features. "That one is mine, Remy. No fair." Though, there really isn't fairness when it comes to thievery.

"No fair? I took a bullet for dis. You got what? A messed up hair and a wet dress. Which, I gotta say. dis be a good look on you." The rogue grins looking her over, his own hair a wet mess against his scalp turning it from a deep brown to an almost black, since he'd fallen his shades remain on the floor, those alien red on black eyes now visible. He'd had them hid carefully this whole time too. He doesn't seem to care. He's not one of those ashamed or fearful sort of mutants, just careful.
"Maybe we need a wager for it, a gamble, yes?" A wince crosses his features again and he rubs his shoulder, applying pressure as blood seeps up past the clothing there and through the spaces between fingers. "Probably bes' we discuss dis somewhere else."
Stooping he picks up his broken glasses then begins to charge them, they suddenly illuminate a dull maroon to vibrant purple then launch from his grasp at the window, exploding outward like that wall had earlier. "How good are you with heights, chere?"

"You took a bullet, and I have a pair of ruined Jimmy Choo's and a pricey Vera Wang dress.." There was a tint of red to her cheeks as she shakes it off now, leaning her hand upon the desk, not reaching for the trinkets just yet. "A gamble…" She mutters, looking towards him and his re and black eyes, not plussed by the slightest of his look. It actually quite.. fits him. He must be one of the different ones. Like the others. There was a look of sympathy there though, one that causes her to straighten up to try to reach for his arm to dig claws to remove the bullet, but the glass and explosion had taken her off guard.
His question, it made her smile but there was a seriousness to her look. Her grappling device remained hidden beneath the gloves that she still wore, usable when wet. "Probably better than you. Need a hand?" And then a thought. "We're coming back for the contents of the safe, right?" It was asked as she was already heading towards the artifical egress he created.
Huh? (Type "help" for help.)
"Dey probably gon' be long gone by den, Felicia." Remy says, sounding almost weary - almost. That blood-loss is getting to him. "We can try though, bout we grab dem tree, get out of here, go get me stitched up den we play a game o chance. See which one o' us gets to keep d kitty?" He extends his good arm to her expecting she'll grab the three objects in question and then he can bound them out to the canopy below and then land upon the street where it's an easy jaunt to his bike.

There was a little look of sadness but.. what the hell. As long as she has the surveillance tapes, she really shouldn't care about what was in the safe. "Fine.." What he expects, is what she does, but this time, these don't go into her top. She holds onto them tightly and then onto him, mentally complaining all the way. Leave it to her to get wrangled up with another thief and forced into a game of chance, go.. flipping figure!

With his good arm Remy tucks her in and leaps to the canopy below which rips and breaks through to the ground but fortunately it's a fall breaker that has them street level and soon at the man's bike, the helmet being handed to Felicia as he gets on, kicking it on. The club is still in disarray but several of the doormen and gangsters are pointing across the road, pointing soon turns in to slinging insults and quickly bullets. "Hold on tight, belle femme." He says before the motorcycle snarls to life and lurches forward, jerking the both of them on the seat before they're racing through the streets of night-time NYC towards destination unknown. Hopefully her driver doesn't pass out and fall off his bike. That is one way to get the loot all to herself.

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