Head On

Summary:
July 30th, 2014: Gambit and Magik discuss the Darkhold, the Queen of Limbo tries to learn more from the stubborn Cajun.

NYC
Crowded NYC Street


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]


Some people think that, being a teleporter, Illyana never walks unless she needs to. Those people would then be surprised to see Illyana running. But she's not running from anything. She's running. Because one doesn't stay in shape by sitting around sipping lattes and watching people all the time. Even if that's more fun. Besides, after the past few days, she needed the physical activity to clear her head.

Hair back in a pony tail, dressed in tank top, shorts and running shoes in a look that is so very not Illy for those that know her, she's running by the Henry Clay Frick House when she gets a phone call from Alexander. Slowing to a walk, she speaks with him briefly and then glances around. Spotting a cafe across the street, she starts over that way, giving Alex the address for him to join her.

Sweaty, a little breathless from the run, it takes her a few to notice a certain red-eyed mutant. "You'd better not be casing the place." Illyana tells Remy, her tone dry. The Frick happens to be one of the pre-eminent small art museums in the country.
"Ah, petit diable." Remy murmurs as eyes peel away from the structure a smile forming across his features, those red eyes are covered by a pair of shades right now but Illyana knows the man, perhaps all too well.
"Why you look so out of sorts? Never took you for d joggin' sorts."
Remy is wearing a simple loose knit long sleeved shirt that allows for breathing and some stain-washed jeans and a pair of raggity looking old boots. The shirt of course rolled up over his forearms since technically it's not exactly cold or even chilly out. The question about casing the joint ignored. For the moment.

What, you see me a couple of times and know all about me?" Illyana says, almost mocking him as she sits down at his table. Her skins is flushed and sweaty, some of her blonde hair stained darker with sweat. Yeah, definitely not rocking any kind of exceptionally attractive look at the moment. "But yes. I run. Among other things." Fighting demons is a great workout, but worrying about loosing your head makes it hard to use it as an excuse to think.
A flick of his finger and Remy pushes his glasses up to his forehead while looking Illyana over, "Not all about but Remy is usually a good judge o' character." A hand presents itself a pack of cigarettes in it is beaten against the opposing knuckles before offering her one, "Always good after a nice jog." Who can tell if he is serious, he's grinning, he's almost always grinning through.

Illyana wrinkles her nose in answer, one hand twisting the length of her hair around it so she can rest it on top of her head and cool off the back of her neck. "Oh wonderful. You talk about yourself in the third person. That's usually the sign of a terminal case of ego." Illyana says, smirking back at that grin. It lacks any real humor though, the hard blue eyes untouched. "Who sent you after the Darkhold?" She hasn't really had a chance to interrogate the man, and looks like she's decided here is as good as anywhere.
"Ego? Confidence? Whichever, I jus' figure it's a force of habit." Remy admits. He never really thinks about it until someone points it out. "Cute, yeah?"
Another sharpened grin then she asks about the Darkhold and the corners of his lips twitch downwards.
"A client. Why so curious?"
Illyana's slightly arched brows and bland expression says that she doesn't really find it cute at all. When he asks why she's curious? Her brows go more noticeably up. "Why?" Her eyes narrow a bit. "Are you forgetting the giant *mess* that happened? Someone wanted it, probably for the promises that artifact likes to make. And that makes them very, very dangerous."

"Nah, I'm plenty aware, petit." Remy replies while taking a long drag off the cigarette, the smoke ring that follows expels just above her head. "I don't forget much at all. Just curious' why you want to know so much? You ain't exactly of the most reliable ken. I hardly know you to jus' be given up my clients names like dat. It's not exactly professional."

Illyana's nose wrinkles again, the gesture almost making her look cute. The fingertips of her index and ring finger lift from where her hand rests on the table and a light breeze blows the ring back towards his face.

"I'm not reliable?" She gives him a light scowl, but she has to give him that he doesn't know her well. "Because it's dark magic, steeped in the Elder Gods. And that kinda makes it my business." There's a brief, almost indecisive pause. "And I want to make sure it's not involved in something bigger." Like someone sending dead men after her.

A tip of his head and Remy stares at Illyana, "Still ain't sold." He says casually, the cigarette re-finding his lips as he tucks his hands in to his pockets and starts to walk, "Maybe have a drink with me and we talk a bit more. You can tell Remy about these Elder Gods and we figure out if I actually give you more information on dis subject. Already an exile with a bad name, I got to have good reason on why I start betrayin' clients. Especially well payin' ones."

"The guy Sent you into the fire with a wet napkin." Illyana says, geting to her feet and falling in next to Remy. She doesn't mind walking. It helps to clear the head. Hence the earlier running. Her jaw works a bit, trying to be patient. There's the temptation to bounce him to Limbo and rip it out of her head. But no. No. She's supposed to be one of the good guys, right? Right.

"The Elder Gods are back from before time. Before people and whatever. A long, long time ago. There was a struggle and the most vile and evil of them were tossed into what amounts to a prison dimension. They've been there a long, long time and they're not real keen on it. Though they themselves are trapped, they're able to let some of their…" She frowns, trying to think of a good way to describe it to the uninitiated. "essence, I suppose through. To try to influence people to let them loose, or at least play with them as much as they can manage from their side of the barrier. The Darkhold is one of the tools they've crafted for that."

"Sounds all kinda bad." Remy says casually as they stride on down the side-walk, his cigarette bouncing out the occasional puff of smoke. The man walks with his eyes everywhere, from women, to cars, to clothing on displays, to peoples watches and bracelets. The eyes of a thief, ever roaming. So far he has yet to touch, just window shopping perhaps. "Well, it got shut down and Agent Buchanon has his greasy hands on it again. We all good there, yeah? No more nasty Cthulu comin' through to the world." A brush off of something so serious. Clearly he's ignoring the levity of it or he's just that calm abou tit all. "Sides, we X-Men now right? Dis de kinna thing we make sure dun happen." Even if he was the cause of it this go around.

"That was one piece. Of one page. Of a whole damned book, Remy." Illyana says, giving him a level look. "I'm willing to bet that your client? Is gonna keep looking. I'm not sure what he wants, but it sounds like whatever it is it's right up the damned thing's powers to give. Immortality, power, wealth… All at the low, low cost of your free will and soul."

The bit about being an X-Man? Has giving Remy another Look. "The X-Men tend to keep their eyes on the prize of mutant equality. Which, don't get me wrong is important. But I have bigger fish to fry." The kind that want to eat the world.

"So, what you want to do is go find dis guy an make sure he dun have no more pages?" Remy stops, hi shoulders push up against a corner while they wait for the crosswalk to admit them, traffic is a bit much right now.

"I picked up the job down in N'awlins. During Mardi Gra from an old friend, he passed it a long to me. Dis is T'ieves guild territory you're fishin' around in now, petit." His jaw ticks, the muscle underneath the skin jumping once. "Kinda stuff that makes folks disappear. No matter how powerful you tink you be." The Cajun seems conflicted, almost as if he actually wants to help her but a whole wall of baggage is blocking the way.

Illyana stands there, her hands resting on her hips as she looks at him and for a moment there sems to be… humor in those hard, cold eyes. "Thieves Guild? What is this, a game of Dungeons & Dragons?" Looks who's talking, Ms. Sorceress.

"I want to make sure that he doesn't get ahold of any pages, yes. I also what to know if he's got leads on other ones so that I can make sure those are secured. For as long as they can be, anyhow." You can't just lock that kind of stuff away. It always finds a way out. You can't hold onto shadows and darkness. "If this client is employing this Guild? I'm betting they don't know they're playing with fire. It's putting them at risk."

"Heh, de Guild probably knows more den we suspect." Remy replies as the green walk sign pops up and the surge of pedastrians begin to migrate across the crosswalk. The cigarette out now it's tossed haphazardly in to a sewer grate they pass by. "So, lets say I give you a name, let you find this freind of my friend and he's bad juju, but then you piss off the Guild, they come for my friend, they find out it was me, they come for me. They make a mess of a whole lot of people's lives. What's the fix for that? I ain't so worried about me as my friend you see an' o'course the school. I be chillin' there now. They got enough power to come down awful hard."

"Then don't put them at risk like that." Illyana says, tone flat even as she steps into the crosswalk with him. People have this habit of giving way before her, even all sticky and sweaty and unimpressive as she is now. That touch of evil is something their hind-brains can *sense* and makes them want to put some distance between themselves and the blonde. There's more than one reason why Illyana doesn't have a lot of friends. Well, that and the fact she just suggested he walk away from Xavier's to keep them safe so casually.

"You make that sound easier than it is. If you do what it is you wanna do, they find out. It's how they operate. Then it be Assassins and Thieves all over our craw." A stop in his walk and the man turns his red-eyed gaze on Illyana, "You sayin' I just up and leave eh? Already when I jus' got comfortable. Hrm… no, they still find out even if I leave. Bread crumb trails 'n all."

Illyana arches a brow at him and smirks faintly. "And it's all about you being comfortable, hmm?" Looks like he's not the only one that's decided they've pegged someone after a few meetings. The smirk fades, her expression going more serious. "You saw what it did to her, didn't you? And she was one of the lucky ones. You just gonna let that go? I figure you wanted to call yourself one of the X-Men, you were a hero."

"Heh. Cute." Gambit replies to the wording. "Manipulation is somethin' I been used to. You wanna get anywhere with Remy just be up front. I'm thinkin'." He says with a small touch of added annoyance, she's breaking through that laid back exterior just a touch. "They're a danger, these pages and the Guild but we do this, I figure you a way to get to him, I'm goin' with so I can fix things. Make sure it dun become too much. Lil diplomacy. We ain't goin' alone but I don't wanna bring no one who make a big scene." Like her, or Calvin, unfortunately. He can't think of anyone in the X-Crowd who can actually do this like he wants. Maybe it just needs attacked head on. "Gimme some more time to think on dis and I find you again."

Those words leave the Cajun and he slips off through the crowd, leaving Illyana behind. So much for that drink.

"Doesn't make it less the truth." Illyana states, when he accuses her of manipulation. "Everything to do with these pages is bad news. I don't know how I can explain that to you any more clearly than what you've already seen but if you still need convincing…" She sighs. "Call me. I'll show you." The school has her number. It has contact info for almost all of the allumnai.

As he asks for time, she gives a short nod though she's still frowning. Usually, all she has is time. But not this time. Not this time.


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