Mildly Muddled Motives

November 22, 2017:

Elinor Ravensdale is planning…a jewel heist? This, Remy LeBeau has gotta see.

New York City

Diamonds are only a girl's best friend if they aren't cursed!


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Van Cleef and Arpels is renowned for its outstanding jewelry collection and famous for all the intricate, sophisticated designs. Nestled in Manhatten the store opened over a century ago and is renoun for intractate and fantasy style jewelry. While it boasts many famous models over the years, those of a lower caste still like to window shop and look at the sparking pieces that cost twice the yearly rent on an apartment.

So what Elinor Ravensdale is doing in such an expensive store is odd. Sure she might have gotten a nice check from Remy, but not enough to buy something that expensive. What's also odd is that she isn't dressed in her Gothic uniform, instead wearing a little black dress with a low neckline and a short blazer over her shoulders. Her hair is pulled back from her face in a clean bun and her make-up is lacking the heavy black eye liner she normally favors. She's speaking with a young well dressed sales associate who looks as if his suit was custom made for his size. Unlike the last time she was trying to weasel her way into a place she doesn't belong, she looks perfectly at ease, and even appears to be flirting with the man in front of her.


Remy LeBeau did write a nice check. Actually, he paid in cash. A nice hefty wad. And then he'd largely disappeared, laying low for the most part after a few heists that put him too far on too many people's radars, including SHIELDs. He's heard a name out of the underworld which has spooked him, and then of course there's the fact that he went to New Orleans at all.

But every now and then he has to come out. He's mostly gone to high-stakes, underground poker games, which is why today he, too, is dressed nicely. A crisp white shirt, a tailored black jacket, crisply pressed black pants, shined shoes, and a stylish red scarf to give a pop of color. It matches his eyes almost exactly.

Which is probably dumb of him. Anti-mutant sentiment is ramping up. Giving no fucks by drawing attention to his eyes whether than wearing the hated contacts or the only-practical-during-the-day sunglasses is probably not very smart. But Remy's a vain soul, and is impatient with the entire humans vs. metas debate. Some people can explode things they touch. Some people can fix a car too, and he sure can't do that.

Still, he spots Elinor in the window and raises his eyebrows. Now what is going on in there? He debates walking in, but for the moment contents himself with watching body language.


Elinor wasn't sure what to think about Remy after their trip to New Orleans, but when he paid her and went on his way. She had his number, but checking for life didn't seem like an emergency so she didn't call it. So she figured they would each go about their lives and cross paths when they really needed to again.

The flirtation between Elinor and the salesman continues. The body language is completely wrong; her posture is too straight, her hand motions are less fluid and more direct, even the way she smiles dosn't look like Elinor's. Perhaps Remy hasn't seen her flirt before, but something feels wrong about it.

Whatever lie she's spinnig, the man is falling for it. His attention is compeltely on her, and not on the room around him. He fetches each requested piece of jewelry with out hesitation and he even lets her try on a few of the pieces. When she turns to admire a ring she's put on, she finally spots Remy lookin in through the window. She look at him as if he's a stranger, before recognition slowly spreads over her face.


Remy raises his hand in greeting, and this is when he decides to go in, if only to see what she's doing. Surely she hasn't decided to moonlight as a jewelry thief. It didn't seem to be her thing. Though he could get a great price for any of those pieces, now that he's located each of the fences in town, and has figured out which ones actually might be trustworthy enough to work with.

He won't mess with the flirtation of course; he sort of pretends to look at the rings instead, just another customer. She's got some sort of angle running, and this is more curiosity than anything else, as she doesn't seem to be in trouble like she was at the gambling hall.


Elinor doesn't wave back, but perhaps that's because of the ruse she's trying to uphold. Once he is inside, their conversation is easy to overhear, and it doesn't shed any light on just what the hell she's doing. "That piece is absolutely lovely. I adore how the diamonds catch the light and the sapphires offer a stark contrast to your invisible setting. You really cannot find any other pieces like this made anywhere else in the world." While her voice still sounds like Elinor's, there is a pronounced posh British accent coloring her words. It comes with ease as well, as if she'd always spoke that way, and not like someone who is trying to force it. "Now I couldn't possibly make a decision today, but if you would provide me with your lovely little card, I will gladly return and be sure that you get the commision." She says with a bright smile, leaning over the counter and lowering her voice to add to the effect.

Whatever she's doing is working, the man hands over his card with a smile. She accepts his card and holds out her hand in a prim fashion, as if she expects him to kiss her knuckles, and much to the man's suprise, he does. "Ta ta, I will see you soon Anthony." With that she turns from him, walking in impossibly high heels with ease. When she passes by Remy she winks at him before exiting the store.

Wether or not she wants him to follow, she doesn't' turn around to wait and see if he does, but once she is outside and out of the view of the stor windows, she slips into an allyway.


Well, he's got to look at jewelry for a moment first. He has to tell Anthony he's "just lookin'," take a full tour, shake his head mournfully as if he could never afford such fine pieces, and then ghost out. No pun intended.

But eventually he does, slipping onto the sidewalk, looking for her. When he spots her he draws alongside her and murmurs, "Is there some evil necklace in there, or did I hook you on the exciting life of the professional procurer?" He's not going to say thief, after all, on a crowded New York City street.

He slips his hands into his pockets. Mostly this is curiosity.

Okay. Also maybe some concern. Elinor might well be in over her head, trying to run those sorts of ruses with those sorts of stores. The incident at the gambling hall is, after all, still fresh in his mind, even though she did far better this time.


She isn't too far down the sidewalk, almost expecting Remy to join her on the busy street. As crowded as it is, she doesn't seem to mind walking through the throng of people who pass them by. When she feels him at her side, she'll loop her arm in his and lea heavily into him. The laugh she emits is condesending and she turns her eyes toward his. "My dear, I've been 'procuring' long before you were born." It's there in her eyes, it's not Elinor looking back at his. Her eyes are a clear blue, where rich dark brown eyes look toward his red ones. "Where is she hiding you? She really should let you come out and play more often. I'm Cassandra."


This makes him start a little, but he doesn't push her off his arm. He stares down into her changed eyes, concerned. Had she said anything about possession? He doesn't remember. He doesn't think so.

"Bonjour, Cassandra," he says, instead, deciding whomever this is might well be dangerous. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Remy LeBeau." Which she might already know, but manners are manners, and when he decides to turn on the charm he can be a gentleman. This does, of course, explain why she was so much better at running her scam today.

He even smirks. "I'm suspect she feels I'm a little more trouble than I'm worth, me."


Elinor might have mentioned it in passing, but not any long conversations about it. Still even for Elinor this is eerie. "And you speak French, she didn't mention that. Honestly she gets to have all of the fun." Cassandra purrs out, batting her eyes at him as she smiles. "Oh, I know what she thinks about you, and I can tell you it's—" Cassandra chokes, and goes into a quick coughing fit before she rights herself. "Or not. She has informed me that the information is confidential."

She continues down the road, but her eyes begin scanning the area for a hiding place. "But you're not wrong, there is a cursed object in that jewelry store. I have the skills she needed to get her in there and learn all that she can about it. If I behave, she may even let me steal it for her." She winks.


A slow, smug smile passes briefly over Remy's face; his eyes dance in response. It wouldn't be confidential if she merely thought he was annoying. And while he's Catholic enough to feel like he's still married— the marriage was never annulled, after all— he's…rogue enough to continue to enjoy female attention quite a bit. Elinor's in particular; their bickering dynamic is little bar to that. If anything it just kind of eggs him on.

But he doesn't say anything about it, aware that the smirk alone will piss Elinor right off, which he just finds hilarious.

But then, a heist. "What's the object?" he asks, curious. Unsure of Cassandra's skills— for all he knows they're centuries out of date or something— he starts digging. After all, she helped him with her expertise. Maybe he can help her with his.


Oh it's pissing Elinor right off, and while she has some control over the ghost, she still isn't driving. Cassandra has the wheel and she's enjoying the male attention, even if it isn't directed at her. Just being in this body is enough to put the ghost in a great mood. "It's a ring. Easy to steal yes, but it was not on the sales floor. Some of the other ghosts are looking for it now, but it will take some time to find it. I'm not versed on just what the curse it, but my gracious host says it's a nasty one, or at least a ghost told her it's a nasty one." Cassandra shrugs.

As they walk, she stumbles, leaning heavily on Remy before she laughs. "I think I'm about to be evicted. Be a dear and find us a hiding spot, my host grows weary of my flirting."


Remy simply turns them into a shadowed alley, one that he already knows doesn't have muggers in it. Mostly cause it reeks so bad he doesn't think the muggers would want it. But this will do in a pinch, should Elinor wish to reclaim her body. Since apparently it's not as simple as her eyes changing color. "Oh? T Elinor wants to do some flirting of her own, her?"

Another bright grin. "This is the wrong setting for it of course, but I won't complain."

The man just doesn't know when to quit, clearly. He winks at…well. One of them. Whichever one of them is there to see it.


"Get some champagne in her and find out." Cassandra says with a smirk, letting out one hidden secret from her host before she's kicked out. Once they're fully in the ally and out of view, Cassandra turns to Remy and gives him a sly smile. Leaning forward she presses her lips against his cheek, leaving a stain of lipstick behind. "Don't be a stranger Remy." She winks one last time before she steps back.

There are several reasons that Elinor doesn't do this in view of normal people. First, the experience isn't pleasant. By nature, the ghost does not want to leave, having a taste of life again, feeling air fill their lungs and the return of taste and scent. It's hard to let go and even the ghosts that Elinor is closest to have trouble letting go and Cassandra is no exception. Elinor's body convulses and she reaches for a wall to steady herself on. It looks like she's about to get ill before she leans over and dry heaves. Remy wouldn't see a thing, it looks like she's had a bad bout of sushi, but as soon as the ghost is gone, the shadows reacy for her again, clinging to her skin like it always does. "Bitch." She says, reaching up to wipe the corner of her mouth. Her body is trembling and shaking and she turns around to lean against the wall to catch her breath.

Her pale blue eyes turn back to Remy, she she glares at him, not ready to speak just yet, or perhaps she's crafting the perfect retort.


Despite the fact that he's acting like a Grade A ass, Remy LeBeau does get concerned when she starts to convulse and dry heave. He shifts from simply guarding her to holding her, pulling her hair back instinctively even though there's no vomit to worry about. His hands are gentle; reminiscent of the moment when he offered his to her on the plane to handle the takeoff and landing bits. The one point where his roguish face goes sober, actually starts displaying real emotions, like concern.

So though she glares, he says softly, "Hey. You need water or somethin', T Elinor? That looked bad." It's a wonder she lets that happen at all; but then he already knows she's pretty damned dedicated to her job as she sees it.


It's moments like this that confuse the hell out of her. Remy, whose default setting is ass, can switch it off so quickly and offer her comfort. Her skin feels cold and clammy but her breathing finally slows and she starts realize the world around her once again. "It's always bad." Her voice returns to normal, with only a hint of hoarseness left behind from the dry heaving. "They never want to leave, the taste of life is too sweet, and part of me mourns for them that I can only grant it for a short time." It's a half truth, but she slowly resumes her glare and swats at him. It's a very pathetic swat. "That's for ghosting me. When I feel more myself you'll get one for your other comment."


"I wasn't ghosting you. I was trying to avoid getting you arrested as an accessory for grand larceny," Remy murmurs, with absolute candor. "I've needed to lay low a bit. They do check phone records, them."

But he lets her go and frowns. "But now I'm sorry I did. If you needed a thief, well, there are easier ways than letting one walk around in your skin. Come on. Let's go somewhere safe and you can tell me about this ring, yeah? I'll see if I can't help."

The swat generates exactly zero response, not even, this time, a smirk. Of course. Cassandra's lipstick kiss is still right on his cheek, so there's that.


"Then I guess it's good that I didn't reach out." Elinor says dryly, still feeling prickly, because it's easier than focusing on the other feelings rolling around in her head. "I could have checked up on you in other ways but I figured you wanted your privacy after all of that insanity." However she notices that his devil may car attitude hasn't returned, that he's still being srs Remy, so she adjusts her tone as well. "If you wish." Though she draws a blank on a safe place, frowning when she realizes she only has one option. "My apartment isn't terribly far. If you don't mind slumming it that is." Looking out on the street, she frowns and takes in a deep breath.

"I'll call a taxi."


Remy says dryly, "When I live high on the hog I'm doing it on stolen cash, darlin'. I've been in my share of ratty places too. Sometimes it's smarter to kick back in one of them."

But he finally lets her go, letting her do what she needs to do. At the very least his picture isn't circulating all over creation, as long as they don't call attention to themselves they should be in decent shape. Still, in those early days law enforcement wasn't the only thing he was worried about.

He was trying to keep Candra's people from targeting Elinor, just in case they took exception to…pretty much everything he's been up to with her.


"True." Elinor says, fully aware where her friend gets his money. Still she can't help but to feel subconcious about her megaer living situation. "Well, it doesn't have rats, that's one consolation." It does however have more ghost roomates then she cares to admit. Once he pulls away, she shivers again, looking down at her dress and the shoes she's wearing and sighs. "What the fuck did she put me in? Am I taped in here? Ugh." She's a little wobbly on her feet because she's not used to shoes this high, and that is one of the many skills she borrowed from Cassandra. Stilll, she stumbles through the alleyway, and does her best to ignore the crowd to reach the street and summon a taxi.

As uncomfortable and revealing as the dress is, it does secure them a quick pick up from a taxi, and Elinor slips in as best as she can while maintaining her modesty. "Where can I take you love birds?" He says, gesturing the lipstick on Remy's cheek. Elinor's face turns red and she clears her throat before murmuring the address.


Remy, for his part…


He grins broadly. He almost puts an arm around her, before deciding that's kind of a creepy thing to do when she can't break her cover by throwing it back off again. So he just leans back, stretches out his long legs, folds his hands over his chest, and looks very much like a contented cat. But boy does he keep right on grinning until his face has just got to hurt.


A tiny rain cloud forms over Elinor's head. Or at least she hunches down as if she's being rained on, either way, the driver's question does not get answered and the ride is a quiet one.

Elinor's building is not that impressive. It's all still standing, which is a miracle after what the city has been through. After paying and tipping the driver, she carefully walks to the door and punches the code to let her into the door. While the hallways are empty of living guests, Elinor is greeted by the dead, each one of them giving her updates on her neighbors. She makes mental notes, while murming quick instructions as she hits the button and slips into the elevator. Once the doors are closed she starts talking.

"A few weeks ago a ghost came to me with her sob story. She was the other woman, who was sure that her beau would leave his 'harpy wife' for her. What the man didn't tell her was his wife was a witch, and once she found the ring that was not meant for her, she laid a curse on it. Some how that ring has ended up at that jewelry store, or at least parts of that ring. Someone might have broken it down and sold the gems bit by bit." The elevator dings along, taking it sweet time getting up to her floor.


"What does the curse do?" Remy asks, with real curiosity.

The building doesn't even warrant a glance or a raised eyebrow. He's not lying about the fact that he's been in some shitty buildings before. He's lived in them, worked in them. He's not a snob, he just enjoys the good life when he can. He doesn't seem impatient with the elevator in the least. "Are all of the cursed gems at that store or have some been sold or placed in other locations already?"

He's already thinking about how they might do this. In some ways, small jewelry shops like this are harder to rob than large concerns. They're on a public street. They're too small to have many places to hide. Their security systems tend to be pretty decent. Police respond faster when there's money involved. He adds up all the factors in his head, trying to figure out how to get this done.


"From what she told me, she was given the ring as a gift, she slipped it onto her finger and began choking. Her lover was blamed for her death and he's currently sitting in jail for it. So I have to admire the woman for her finess and revenge, even if she did a horrible thing." When he asks about the gems itself she shrugs her shoulders. "I had people looking for me, so I'll get a report once we're inside."

Once the elevator dings and the doors open, she carefully walks toward her door, removing her shoes half way down the hallway and picking them up and walking barefoot the rest of the way. A door opens half way down the hallway on it's own and Elinor gestures through it. "Welcome to my… well, it's a roof."

The room is dimly lit with candlelight, and the furniture is mismatched and covered wtih bedsheets to hide tears and stains. The walls are deceorated with black and white photos, they vary from buildings to graves and even people. As soon as she's through the door, she begins to stress clean, trying to pick up Bobby's toys and hide anything she deems embarrasing.

"Sorry I wasn't expcting company. I'm hoping it's all in one location, I don't know if I can get all of the pieces with out getting arrested. I doubt I'd be able to justify my cause."


"Elinor. C'mon, you don't have to do that," Remy says, as she starts to stress clean. "Go change into something comfortable, let me think about this a moment." The 'change into something comfortable' actually means something comfortable, he's not trying to get her into something sexy. His tone says he's envisioning sweats. He finds a chair to sit down on, frowning thoughtfully. "Do we know how many of them there are, at least? Have a clear idea what each one of them looks like? Because at this rate I'm thinking we might just have to clean out the whole store, treat it all as tainted and cursed." He just waves the police away, they're not a huge concern. They have to be accounted for, but they're not a huge concern.


Despite his protest, Elinor at least gets the living room in some functional order. "I rarely have company. Well living company." Elinor admits before she stops herself and finally looks toward her room. "One moment." Turning toward the corner she nods. "Espy, I'm going to need your help with this." She's gone for a full five minutes and there are several exclimations of 'wtf' and 'who wears this' and 'can I burn it?' There is also the sound like a bandaid being ripped off, and the equlivant yelp as it's removed. She emerges moments later in leggings and a loose fitting sweater.

"We're in luck, it was a three stone ring, one diamond flanked by two emeralds, so at most we'd have to steal three items. The emeralds will be easier to find than the diamond, but I have someone looking. I'm hoping the curse is lessened by the gems being seperated. I tried one of the rings on today and I didn't instantly die, but I felt something."

Looking toward her tiny kitchen she gesutres toward the fridge. "Can you get you something? I have some wine, or tea."


"Trying on a ring you thought might kill you was a plum coullion thing to do," Remy says, staring at her, aghast. "There had to be other ways to figure out the curse. I know you probably aren't afraid of death, given what you do, but maybe don't court it, yeah?"

Three stones. That's not unmanagable at all. "Could do a switcheroo scam, with just three," he points out.

She offers something, he decides, as self-conscious as she is, in addition to how Southern he is, that to fail to accept would be the height of rudeness. So he says, "Wine would be great. I'm not drivin'." Cause nobody drives in New York, and he's starting to get with that program.


"It didn't kill me." Elinor says a bit bashfully. Perhaps she's realizing now that it might have been foolish to tamper with a cursed item, but it was better for her to know than not to know. "I guess I don't think about that too often, I just react."

"That could easily be done. Cassandra has great slight of hand skills, and I'm sure you do as well. Not that I have seen it but, I'm just sterotyping." It only takes her a moment to bring out two mismatched wine glasses with a red wine with in. It's good, nothing special, but definatly not the worst glass of wine ever.

"I think we'll need more than just the two of us. Sure I can get a few ghosts to help, but they can't really do much but be look outs."


"I do. Started my life as a pickpocket," Remy says, accepting the wine. He smirks. "Got myself into the family by picking my adopted father's pocket. I mean. He caught me, but he was impressed, him. Career sorta went downhill from there, but what can ya do?" He salutes her with the wine.

He contemplates this matter of a group heist. "Done groups before, but you better make damn sure you trust 'em, sha. A group heist can go real sour real quick for a whole host of reasons. Most crews have either been together for years cause they grew up with one another or they tend to turn on each other. Sad fact but true. People like me— not that I'm trying to scare ya or nothin', but people like me tend to be looking out for number one, have motives you can't always identify."

He shrugs, aware this could spark a whole host of concerns about him, though in truth, he has no real motives where it comes to her other than an enjoyment of her company and— frankly— a fascination with all the good she's trying to do without much reward.


Elinor sips from her wine and is about to sit on the couch when she notices the lipstick stain. Detouring to the bathroom, she comes put with a make-up remover wipe and passes it over. "I'm sorry she did that, I wasn't able to stop her." Finally sitting on the couch, she turns sideways and leands against the arm of the chair and sips her wine. "Even if it was downhill, you survived, and that's what counts."

Frowning at his explaination of working in a group, she sighs. "Well that complicates things. I'm afraid I don't know a lot of people who are down with theft, even for a good cause. I'm guessing they would dtry to do it the legit way and that'd likely get them tossed in the mental hospital."

As much as she doesn't like it, her mind does go there. This is a theif that she is running around with. A man who can easily con and invite himself into any situation and make it seem like he was invited. As much as she doesn't want to her mind goes there and the next question slips out before she realizes it. "So what is your interest in this case?"


She wipes his cheek. Apologizes. He just smiles indulgently. "Who says it's something I think you ought to apologize for?"

Her suspicion is noted, and he grins. He knew he was going to get that reaction.

My interest in the case is you, Elinor.

But out loud?

"Well," he says, in a light, joking voice. "I mean. We're going to be surrounding ourselves with roughly a million dollars in precious stones anyway. As long as we're in there…might as well snag one or two. I mean, anything else would just be downright goofy, wouldn't you think? We're going through all the work and effort anyway."

Because he's not about to share the truth, now is he?


"Because I wasn't the one who did it. Someone else used my lips to kiss you." Elinor says in a weary tone, but there is something in her eyes when she says that. She sips from her wine glass as he explains himself and nods her head. "And just how are you going to deal with a million dollars worth of unique jewelry that can be easily traced to that store?" She might be grey in her morals, but the actual criminal underworld is still a mystery of her.

"But it's good to know where your motavation is. After all you can't slum it all the time right?" She shifts in her spot and is about to speak again when someone else arrives. One of her ghosts return and lean in to whisper in her ear and she frowns and nods. "It's confirmed that all of the gems are in that spot, so I suppose you'd better start looking for a copy."


"The art of getting stolen stuff fenced is a long and complex skill set, sha. I'm sure Cassandra, she'll tell you all about it if you let her, no? Besides. If I get the right fakes, they'll still be precious stones, but worth significantly less. So. Cursed ones dealt with, a few extras sold at a moderate profit, jewelry owners none the wiser, cops none the wiser. Sometimes the big score, it's a slow, steady thing, yeah? Thieves who get greedy, they get caught. Thieves who work with a little finesse, they don't. Which, to be fair, kind of makes some of my most recent stuff a whole series of real dumb ideas."

He stretches out. "I like the challenge though." He takes a sip of wine, and eyes her, a smirk playing over his face.

"As for kisses, T Elinor, not to worry. I am, as we've covered, a married man, and you are not, as we've covered, interested in little old moi in the slightest."

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