Joie de Vivre (pt.2)

February 17, 2015:

Not quite a New Orleans Mardi Gras but Lafayette Metropolis does it's best to make up for it despite the winter chill (backdated scene).


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The scene? Lafayette Metropolis, one of the many sprawling neighborhoods of the Big Apricot famous for it's French Canadian roots, many of the residents here speak French as a first language and the theme, as one can imagine is, of course French. The restaurants, the architecture, the style, even their very own television channel and radio station. It's about the closest someone can get to New Orleans without ever having to be in New Orleans. All the way down to Mardi Gras.

Beset by Fat Tuesday the streets of Lafayette are colorful, a sprawl of dancing people, Jazz music, live bands, Cajun style cooking and closed off streets. Just one thing stands out that would make this celebration that much more enjoyable… the snow, cold, frozen Metropolis this year was hit as hard as the rest of the East Coast.

Despite the climate setback it doesn't appear to be something that slows the party-goers, Fat Tuesday is still in effect and full swing as pub crawls happen full on right after the swing of the parade.

Why wouldn't Remy LeBeau be here? At this point in time it is much safer than going /home/ and he can still enjoy that general feel. That isn't to say the Cajun isn't dressed warm, his trench coat heavier than usual, lined with fur, a beanie and full fingered gloves. No skin.
"This is nice… kind of."

Metropolis is too cold. But right now trips too far from home are not going to happen. It'd be more sensible if Catwoman went as herself, the suit at least cutting out the winds blast of frigid temperatures, but even then she is asking for some trouble if anyone catches wind of her open presence and decides to attack. Mardi Gras is supposed to be fun, and so she goes as Leonne.

Heeled footfalls carry her over the streets, buckled and belted to thighs, laces riding up the backs of the boots like they are corseted into place over athletic musculature. Rooftop gymnast. A peek of thighs, wrapped in fish netting to disappear beneath a skirt of faux fur, white stripes on black of the sleek fit hanging around her waist is that belted twine of a leather whip, dangling the tailed tip down along her back to lightly play its ends over the back of thighs with its very own 'tail like' sway. Upper body is corseted, the laces white against black, stripes carry up the sides to leave openings of scarred and pale skin beneath to make the furthering of stripes, up and over shoulders is a black and shit striped shrug to keep shoulders and arms warm, matching the skirt. Instead of a mask, a black painted strip sweeps across her eyes, thicker on one end to thin on the other, mimicking a stripe. Black and white dreadlocks top it off, instead of tied high like the namesake mane they are left down, hanging to the small of her back to play their tips much like that of the whip.

Emerald gaze sweeps over the booths, a small cup of that chicory root hinted cafe du monde held in her hand, propped against the corner of the portable barista, though as Remy passes and remarks, she lowers the cup to respond to her friend.

"It's fucking cold, is what it is."

"This look, whatd you name her?" Gambit asks in a nonchalant wave towards Selina's attire. A step closer to her and he is dodging around a patch of ice. Here and there burn barrels have been set up to keep people warm in between structures, a large crowd is nearby one of them due to close proximity of the coffee bar. The streets are fortunately clean though some bits of downpour has given them a sheen, it makes for dangerous footing here and there.
"That is if you name such things, if not, I suggest uh… Lornette. It's a unique name. I can call you Lorne. A lot of things to rhyme off of that… like Thorn… " A teasing nudge of his arm and the rogue is offering her a gloved hand. The one free of the drink of course.

"Leonne.I think you know what that means." She purrs towards Remy, lids falling over those eyes directed at him, thick noir lashes castin shadows that do not dull the lustre of keen gaze beneath. "My people know her as the Madame."

When her gloved hand takes his beneath he can easily glimpse the flash of diamond tipped alloy claws. Never without her necessary bits, just in case she had to leave mementos, reminders. "They both begin with L. Close enough, but hard to find a rhyme." Stepping around the one puddle of ice with relative ease (considering his 'grace' warned her) she cast him a sidelong glance. "So is it like when we first met? Business? Or just to enjoy the local festivities without a long trip. I so hate airplanes." Stock in Dramamine would prove it.

"Your people? What are your people, huh? Should I be concerned?" Remy teases Selina as they make way from one outside stand to the next, "No, no business. This is just nostalgia, I figured you'd find it a little romantic besides Valentine's Day. When is the last time you got away from all that mess that is Gotham to just enjoy life a little? Laissez les bon temps roulet." That handsome grin widens even as a chill wind carries past them.
The next block over and they're passing by stage set up that has heavy clothed musicians on it just jamming away in a discordant noisy Jazz of the 50's fashion. It's chaos. Of course Remy pauses here.
"Like this. See, they're just letting go. Making music, sometimes they synch up, most the time not." The man looks genuinely appreciative of the racket. Each one of the artists individually good but it doesn't exactly seem like they're sober or trying to make music 'together' they're just near one another. Situated like a not-so-band band.

Selina's painted lips curl into a small smile at Remy's nudging, her head lowering lightly and causing those locks to spill over a shoulder and down the front, framing the profile that is furthest from him. "Depends on the people. But mainly my girls. /You/ know /them/." A wink to Remy at that statement before she looks back up and over the bustling life of the Metropolis 'French Quarter'.

The timbre of the beating instruments is something different for her senses, not like what he club plays unless the night is themed and catering to live music. Once a month, but she cannot deny its own lost rhythm - it's music and a cat walks to its own beat. "Romantic? I recall Schwartza-whatshisname carrying me over his meaty shoulder to try and romance me with two brain cells fighting for thought space, the not-so-promising deal that did not even get a girl a diamond nose stud…. The music sounds like your perfect definition." A small nudge as her stance shifts and her hip nudges into him, the coffee sipped upon to cover the full expression.

"You may not have gotten diamonds and pearls out of it but you got a girls other best friend, moi." A returned wink and Remy gives her arm a tug so they're stepping away from the musicians carrying on with their walk down the strip.
"My perfect definition? A dissonant and strident clash of a artistry trying to fit in but… not really? Hrm, perhaps, ma cherie. Perhaps."
Passing further on their way Remy stops near a small cafe, sniffing the air once, "This place, this one has a good feel to it. Smell too. Thats bread pudding if I didn't know any better." It's as Gambit is standing there taking in the scent that a wide shouldered form bursts out the door and slams in to the both of them.
"Grand beede cmon through…" The Cajun taunts.
The bull necked man stares down at Remy then looks at Selina, "Excuse me." Off he goes!
"Huh, you know, I expected a throw down…" Remy almost sounds disappointed. Almost.

"You do not hear me complaining, now do you mon pirate?" Selina says in regards to getting him instead of more fence needing additions. He was definitely another feline that walked the edge at moonlight right there with her. That's saying something for a girl that much rather prefers to work alone.

"I guess it depends on the persons perspective. Mine is a mess of noise you try to wrap your head around and fail, so you just go with it and enjoy the chosen wavelength."

when they pause to take in the scent of more home made dishes she is about to step around and towards a booth boasting ratatouille, having to leap back with an acrobatic agility gained with years of practice, her glare looking like cross-hairs as the large hulking male just keeps ambling on. "Not before I try ratatouille for the first time. Then I'll gladly partake in a fight. I get mean on an empty stomach, and I'm curious."

"Whoah what, hey! Back up! What is that comment supposed to mean? I /know/ your girls. A good portion of dem are not girls and those that are… well, hah… I been a good boy. I have been surprisingly well behaved if I must say so myself." Remy reaches up and fixes his collar as if she just wounded his pride.
"Besides, women like to talk to a man who is not threatening to them who will listen, I always like a good story. You people of Gotham, you all have good stories… that reminds me I talked to a friend of mine, Bobby, we were comparing cities, this is the Big Apricot, New York is de Big Apple, what does that make Gotham? He said the Big Lemon." ADHD much, Remy's thoughts swing back around to the food talk of ratatouille. "Ah, I should introduce you to my chicken andouille gumbo sometime but lets go inside here, see what they have to compare. It smells nice at least."

It is hard to hide the laughter, lips twitching while eyes are narrowed and nearly watering, though that is likely the slice of cold air that sweeps between the buildings and steals your breath away. Looking away though as she downs the rest of her Du Monde her shoulders are shaking and she finally sputters, her fingers rising to sweep the coffee from her lips. "Rodaga looks great in heels, you have to admit." Selina states non-chalantly at the remark about the queens her establishment possesses.

his overall remark about being /good/ only gets him an incriminating glance, but still bearing that amusement. His topic bouncing has her staring at him and blinking slowly, a manicured brow rising as they head inside, and just as they have to slide sideways within a couple older teens slide out, dropping beads over their heads..

"You know what that means right lady?" One with a swept long haircut waving over his brow waggles hidden eyebrows at her just before she leans forward and states in a low and husky tone. "Sweety, the allowance you earn per week could not afford so much as a peek." Suess-isms for the adults, his friends do the bro style 'Ohhhh dayumn dawg.' and thump him on the shoulder before dragging him out the rest of the way.

"I do simply adore ethnic cuisine, especially if you can make it /burn./" Selina says casually all the while having idly hooked into the beaded necklace Remy wore, wrapping around it to tighten the hold. "I know what they expect of women, but to hell if I have ever seen the men show a girl anything worthwhile." Tsk.
Remy pays no mind to the beads, it's a common yet uncommon misconception and not something he all together cares about one way or another. It's been a thing for longer than he has been alive after-all.
"He does have some nice legs. I give him that much." Remy agrees before glancing sidelong, watching the drunks on their way out. This is mild, very mild, compared to what it could be. These sort of things are expected.
"These kids now days, think every woman walking around is little more than a salope. Funny that, considering the weather… whores and penguins right?" A grin appears again, "Though, I think a road back I did see a pair of frosty pair. Now that i think about it." It would appear Remy is actually trying to think about it as they find themselves inside the diner. It's only the hook of her finger that draws him out of his reverie or he is pretending.
"It's all about de mood. You probably not wanna see what men be ready to show off. Not as pretty as what you have." One of those casual Remy pat on the asses and he is slipping past her to order their food, "Oh! Look at this King Cake… " A large pastry covered in sugar and sprinkles, decorated all greens, purples and golds in the typical Mardi Gras fashion.

"Ah yes, the only things that do not feel the cold. Whores, penguins, and polar bears." The smirk upon Selina's lips does not fade as she releases his beads and claps, considering part of her line of work… She knew that one well and still found amusement in it. Though his mention of seeing a frosty exposure has Selina cringing and pushing her shoulders forard and together as if even /she/ felt the chill upon bosom. "Frostbite is not anything I suffer well."

Someday Remy just may understand the depth of that.

Pausing before she slides into the booth the cake is given a once over, and then so is he. "If it is not the ladies, its the sweets. I wonder which is your biggest weakness." Finally when ass meets booth that faux fur skirt makes it easy (for once) for her to sliiiddee over the pleather upholstery and cross one leg over the other. "Pretty, is relative. Just like you and your music." A waffling gesture of one hand before it becomes a prop for her chin, encased fingertips tapping upon lower lip.

The place like anywhere 'authentic' and indoors is packed, elbow to elbow. Fortunately the servers are good at squeezing through the crowd and capable of getting to the paying customers and not just some of the party goers who are out looking for some fun.
Food and drink in hand Remy joins Selina at the booth, more to come eventually but for now he got the appetizers. "Mal pris." A helpless shrug and the Cajun admits to both. "A toss up I suppose, sweets in one hand, ladies in the other… "
The cake is bounced in the air and Mrs.Kyle is drawn closer to his side while he gets cozy.
"Pretty? Non. You think this is my music? Maybe this music fits my tapestry in pieces but there is far too much of Remy to just say this is my music, that is like saying, you are but a cat. You are much more… like me. So much more… "
A sudden pause and Remy's glasses slide down his nose and he is staring off past her, through the crowd and at… something? Or he is just having one of those strange far away moments. Those happen. Maybe he just remembered he left an oven on.
"Uh, what was I saying? Oh yeah… cake and a sweet… " The man is here again but Selina is no fool. He seen something or had an epiphany.

"You are missing my point." Leonne states, reaching for the food he brought them, the seasonings perfect to her palette, followed suit with sweets, the mingling of flavors are a bittersweet savor. "You march to the beat of your own drum. If you want to make music the point."

Pulling a piece of the king cake off she holds it to his lips. "I could compare it to the food, but again relative. Do not over think—-" His look has her slowly following it, seeing nothing she tilts her head, the wonder coming from green eyes giving her a moment to wait until her comes back to the here and now.

Her voice is now low keeping the close proximity just in case, there are so many ways to speak, to veil the obvious if there is one. "What is it?"

"Me, over think? I have never been accused of this… maybe not thinking enough…" Remy counters as a tray of Cajun style crawfish and shrimp etouffe is laid out in front of them. "It nothin' to worry your pretty little whiskers about, ma cherie. Just a ghost." Or a figment of his imagination, as soon as he had seen the person they were gone. This is what he gets for digging up the past. His own fault for traveling down there and thinking he could come back up north without a hitch.
"You need to try this." A bit of shrimp is snatched up and pressed towards Selina's lips.

"I am from Gotham, we know ghosts are very real there." A suspicious look cast Remy's way, but nothing she overly presses him on, as it seems to bear no threat upon them, but just in case…

She leans into him more-so, lips parting for the piece of shrimp all the while her hand upon the outside of their seating arrangement - works around the leather twine of the whip, loosening its hold in case she needs to withdraw it in close quarters. To detract from the defensive posture her hand that had just been upon whip now reveals a small powdered sugar coated pastry, balancing it upon clawed digit tips before him. Perfectly and un-noticeably having pilfered it from a passing tray the beignet is held before Remy.

Well, right now you have a sweet, offered by a lady. Do not confuse one with the other."

"This is true. The Big Lemon is anything but full of it's nightmares, bats and spooks." Watching her chew the shrimp after it's been pressed in to her lips the mutant sits back and drapes his arms over the bench, making himself comfortable, "It's alright, if Casper and his friends wanted to do us harm, they would have by now. I think they're jus' keeping tabs."
A slight shift of his red on black eyes will give Selina just enough indication she should require to point out the man seated near the cafe counter, short, slightly round at the belly and rather plain looking except a thin scar that runs from behind one ear to his left temple where it flares out more.
"Just a chubby little bald ghost, see?"

Remy seemed to pass over the fact that she offered him something in lieu of staring at her, or perhaps the one he gestures to has him distracted. The fluffy pastry is shoved past his lips. (YOU WILL EAT MY GIFT!) While doing that she has shifted her position to bring her to her knees and facing Remy's side.

Not one further glance is given back to the man at the bar as one leg slides over Remy's lap, bringing her to straddle him over that bench with the edge of the table pressing her intimately close in the tight fit. Leaning down, Leonne whispers just along the ridge of his jaw line before her lips come to the corner of his. "Missed a spot." A flick of tongue, drawing lightly across that edge of lips to take up the powdered cofection left from the pastry she shoved in his face.

Sliding from his lap with a dancers ease there is now more then a few eyes upon them, her hand holding the lightly swaying end of the whip to make it pendulum back and forth with every step as she approaches the small man at the bar, his bald head gleaming, but that scar the marking that goes into her memory.

Stepping up behind the man her gloved hand slides over his bald head, those claws /barely/ ticking out while her other hand spins the booth seat around to make him face her. "You look like a man of -exquisite- tastes and a bit of danger, let me offer you something you /shouldn't/ pass up like he did." A wink, long lashes like moth wings over emerald eye and she turns, walking out of the place.

Remy blinks as another sweet was just half-crammed in to his mouth and Catwoman practically mauls him in that slide to get up. "Eh… " No real words come out just a sound and she is already sauntering rather provocatively off. Typical but unexpected, that makes it even more pleasing.
"I'll get the check…"
Gambit moves over near the counter and looks at the bald man Selina just teased and waits until she is out of earshot, "Homme, you gonna take this check and pay it. Then you go back to the family and tell them stop followin' me around. You got that, Toc-Toc?"
The heavyset fellow smiles, "Defan Remy, this just a social call. A visite. Let you know you never far from sight and making sure you dun come back, you ain'tno welcome. Go play with that peeshwank while yous can just stay this side of the bayou and you safe. That lil trip made some folks real mad."
Remy makes a click sound and whispers, "Toc-Toc." Then proceeds to follow after Selina on out in to the cold Lafayette streets of Metropolis.

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