Fish Slapping Dance

July 27, 2014:

A quiet day on Breakstone Lake with Remy, Calvin, Betsy and Lunair.

Xavier's Estate, Breakstone Lake, Westchester County


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Xavier's Institute Grounds, Breakstone Lake just off to the eastern side of the boathouse a little up the shore Remy LeBeau sits with a fishing pool drapped across his legs, untangling the line after a snare. A cigarette tucked behind his ear that looks recently put out. His legs a bit more pale than they usually are he still sports a healthy sun induced discoloration of the skin. A tank top and a pair of long shorts sporting a logo for the Saints football team on the thigh complete his ensemble. It's humid, muggy and hot. Even more reason to be indoors with the A/C, at the lake or the pool. The Cajun chose the most obvious for himself.

There's a flash of pinkish light about ten feet above the surface of the lake and Cal dives into the water. Near perfect form, just a little splash: 9.7. He's under water long enough to push off the bottom of the lake and swim to the edge where he breeches the surface and then floats onto land as he shakes his head and squeezes the water out of his hair with his hands. "Oh, hey Remy. How's it going?"

There was a certain flair about being inside on this hot day, to another person that is. People roaming the halls involving themselves in chatter was something that Betsy herself wanted to avoid. That need to be alone takes over all forms of comfort-ability as she makes her way outside. Her aimless wanderings carry her towards the lake, towel swung over her shoulder, barefoot as all get out, straw tucked in between two lips that still carried the faint hint of tequila. Spotting the two outside, she joins the like-minded two with a little smile and a nod of her head, helping herself to a seat upon the side of the docks to dip her feet into the chilled water to give her foot a brief flick to create ripples.

Remy LeBeau is normally the laid back casual sort but when a person 'appears' out of nowhere within your expected 'safezone' one tends to get jumpy.
A flail of hands in the air and a fishing rod flies upwards while his hand knocks over the cooler beside him, a can of Old Dusseldorf beer rolls out along with two fish.
"Whoah! Cal, mon ami!" The Cajun exclaims missing the arrival of Betsy, a woman he only briefly met in the past. All business, no pleasure that time aaround.

Cal glances at the overturned cooler and fishing rod then grins. "Sorry, startle you? You get used to it around here, sooner or later. Have you met Betsy? Betsy, this is Remy. Nice day for a swim, eh?"

Today Lunair has decided not to go out. That means there's probably no naked mafia twerking amidst exploding cars, no riding shopping carts downhill or various other mayhem. Her capacity for violence is amplified by her cheerful nature. Go figure. Either way, she's exploring the place once more. Lunair is an expert at that, finding something new every time it seems. She is going to check out some water plants today, since it's warm.

She has on light colored clothes, a wide brimmed hat and carries a parasol with her alongside her messenger bag (Gotta have something cool to drink while poking at plants). But as she nears the lake, it becomes apparent that there's people already. There's Cal, a new lady and Remy (very Cajun). She hesitates. It's not really out of shyness. She just has to *think* a moment. Startling people with eye lasers and explosions is a fast path to a Darwin award. Now, how did you say hi carefully…?

With a quick snap of her fingers, Betsy manages to catch the rod before any permanent damage was done to, whomever. It just settles in midair, then slowly lowers itself to the wood of the docks. "You really ought to find someone to help you with that. Your nerves and all." She comments, still swaying her feet and giving a brief nod towards Cal. "Nice to meet you, Remy. Officially." And, that was that. Still not being in a talkative mood, she lays back against the docks, another nod given in agreement to todays events. "It's actually a nice day for a tan. I could use a little bronze."

A small chase of that rolling beer and Remy begins to scoop fish back in to the cooler. "Nice day for a fish I had thought but gettin' snared up in some of de reeds over this way. These bass 'round here like to swim through 'em right when I get uhm." As if remembering his manners Remy gives a lopsided smile to Psylocke, one hand holding up now that its fish and beer free to cover his eyes so he can see her (plenty of glare off the lake and sun right now). "I seen 'er around. Not officially met, though. Betsy, all my pleasure, chere and thanks for de catch." He ignores the remark about his nerves.
It's behind Ms.Braddock that he sees Lunair to which he offers quick wave. "'ey, Loon."

As Remy greets her, Cal turns to look and give Lunair a smile. "Hey Lunair." Then spotting one of the chairs back by the school, he BLINKs it over next to him and sits down in it. "You want a chair too?" he asks the young woman. "Good day to be lazy."

"Put up traps. A little barrier around the reeds or whatever so they won't swim into it." At least, Betsy thinks that'll be a great form of action. "Or set up shop elsewhere. Go cat fishing instead." She shrugs a little, pulling her towel from her shoulder to whip it about her, she saw it on television a lot. Keeps the mosquitoes at bay. As Remy notices Lunair, she turns as well, squinting her eyes in the light to see the young woman with the granny had, a little chuckle bubbiling forth with a slight wave in her direction. A quick 'welcome' is given as an after thought, the towel soon folded and tucked beneath her head for support.

Lunair regards Betsy curiously. There's a hovering fishing rod. Like a dog, her eyes follow it. But then, there's a greeting. She smiles and waves back. "Hello there! That's an odd way to fish," She considers it a moment. She's alarmingly literal on a good day. And then she smiles to Cal, noticing him and his mighty BLINK. "A chair would be lovely, thank you. And it seems to be the in thing." Her expressions are a little off, perhaps being adjusted more consciously than not.

"How are you all? And should I have brought some ice or anything?" Ponder. "I don't think we've met? Hello!" She smiles, waving back in turn.

A brow quirk and Remy looks at Betsy almost wondering if shes serious, "I like dis spot, it's a good one, traps take out the fun. Apparently, chere, you dun know Remy very well to think he needs fishin' advice, this me channelin' the bayou now." The rogue just got a bit touchy! A button pressed for LeBeau seems to be critiquing his fishing skills or habits. His hand dips in to that cooler and he slings Calvin a beer, the women both looked at in turn, "Always a good day to be lazy. Anyone else?" Another reason he picked this location, no students and it's still private property.

Another chair blinks in for Lunair at her request. Cal lifts a hand to catch the beer and takes a swig after opening it. "The point of fishing isn't to catch fish." he tells Betsy. "It's to give you an excuse to sit in one place doing nothing. Anything you actually catch is a bonus. Going to grill them up cajun style, Remy? If you're going to be around regularly, we'll have to make sure the lake stays well stocked. I wonder if catfish would do well here."

She turns her head to face Remy, her brows knitting in something akin to anger, or was it annoyance? It was hard to tell. "Well excuse me, Pepe LaPew. Don't let me cramp your goddamned bayou style." She tuh's, then turns her head, a little defiantly at best, giving a glance towards Lunair with a priceless expression. Chairs, the in thing? Betsy obviously doesn't get it. Maybe it was a language barrier, but she's been in the states long enough for her to know better.

Cal's explanation does gain a bit of an understanding, but she was still snippy after the fact. "So why not sit and do nothing instead of giving the airs that you're doing something? Bonus is buying your choice of fish outright and getting someone -else- to cook it for you." But eh, that conversation was for the birds.

Lunair is a student. But a college one. And it's better if she stays away from the kegs. Nudity rays and drunken shenanigans could end all sorts of hilariously or terribly. Lunair watches the exchange much like a puppy watches sign language. A little ? might well pop up over her head. She pauses. "I didn't know you liked to fish. Where do you fish? What kinds? I saw big fish that looked like metallic dragons in tanks once…" She's trying. "Um. I have soda, thank you. It's probably better if I don't drink." For legal and this not turning into a recreation of a Dick Cheney Duck Hunt scene. Everyone wins when Lunair's sober.

"Thank you," She smiles to Cal. "Can you watch catfish much?" She has an odd syntax now and then. Betsy's expression provokes a confused look in Lunair. "I think it has to do with the struggle of catching another living being. Sometimes people forget things like fighting, fishing and hunting when they never see it or have to do it to survive? I don't know," She considers it. "I think the peace of it factors in. But I like feeding fishes a lot more than catching them. I got fish slapped once. It was awful. Um, I don't think I have your name yet, ma'am?" She's respectful, at least. "I'm Lunair. If you're thirsty, I have some soda and tea. I was going to examine the plants here." She's odd. But at least friendly.

"Pepe… Le… that hurts, Betsy. Right here." Remy taps the center of his chest and winks, "Maybe we on the wrong foot here." He flashes one of his quick smiles , so practiced and easy for the scamp. "How about you come sit by Remy and I show you de joys of fishin'?"

"Catfish do good jus' bout anywhere. Dey like the scoundrels of the fish world." A teasing yet playful pat is given to the grassy shore beside the man as an offer to Psylocke once more. "An, fo sho, Cal, I'll cook us up right good if I get enough today. Make little more than a salad with these slim pickin's tho."
A pause in his words like what he is just about to say goes interrupted, "You got fish what?"

Ah, bickering between mutants on a hot and humid Sunday. Same old, same old. Cal takes another swig of his beer and just kid of looks at Lunair blankly. "What?" He understood all the words but everything together just is not parsing. "Catfish won't kill off everything else, will they?" he asks Remy. "I know importing non-native species can play havoc with things."

All that fish talk was making Betsy start to smell it. Or maybe it was the fact that Remy just so happened to wave his hands around enough for the stench to drift into her direction. Lunairs explanation draws a raised brow, and a look off into the sky as she thinks on her logic. "That's interesting, the way you put that, Looney." Is that what her name was? "Loon. Loon-aire." Ah, she gives. "Though there is no peace in it. Peace is nothing but a perception and at the end of the day, you're killing something no matter how much any poor sod chooses to look at it." Morbid much? Though, at Remy's invitation, she slowly sits up, both hands planted, feet drawn out of the shallow end of the water where she chilled at.

She joins him without much of a fuss, drawing her knees up to rest her arms upon, fingers clasped.

Pepe LePew. heehee. Oh dear. Lunair just sort of watches the trio for a moment. "I tried to catch a fish once. It slapped me in the face. I think he wanted it more," Lunair nods sagely. She doesn't seem to think ill of the fish. He won and that's that. She looks to Cal. "Well. People who fish for food. Or people who raise animals. A lot of people who just buy the stuff… they never see the animals, or see how it works. So they forget that a sacrifice was made," She remarks. "So that they could eat and live. I wonder if some people who fish appreciate the fish more because of what they do," But then, it's time for catfish chat. "What about fish that live here? Aren't there lots of kinds of catfish? I don't know much about them, though… they have whiskers." That's about all she can offer.

She moves to crouch and look at a nearby plant. She smiles up at Betsy. "Loon or Looney is fine. Or Luna." She doesn't mind. Dutch and German names can be a bit of a pain sometimes. "And that's true, too." Wait. What - "What would you like me to call you, though?" She asks, suddenly remembering. So much for examining that plant.

"Nah, they bottom feeders and do jus' fine. This lake big enough and they got space to get along with trout and bass, which plenty of them two. "A toe tap given to his cooler and Remy grins again at Psylocke as she joins him, "It dun go to waste, wait until you taste my catfish with remoulade. It a family recipe."
Hearing Lunair again Remy chuckles. "Never a dull moment, eh, Loon?"

"Then we'll get enough so they can sustain themselves with some moderate fishing." Cal decides. "I'll find out which species do best in this area and are tasty. And you can stay busy catching and cooking them for us." he adds, giving Remy a grin. "Do you both like cajun cooking?" he asks Lunair and Betsy.

"Betsy." She says to Lunair. "Everyone calls me Betsy." When appropriate! Her toes perform a little cadence in the grass as she watches Cal, his and Lunair's conversation lightening her mood just a touch. Just a tiny touch! The nudge of the cooler gets a little glance and a shake of her head and a lift of her hand, forgoing a drink for now.

"Well lookit you, Calvin." Betsy mutters, all jokes of course. "Just putting ol Francois to work. Cooking and fishing.. next thing you know he'll be doing laundry too. Dishes even!" The thought of the poor man in a daddy apron just puts a little smile on her face. But as it stood, she was just joking. "Cajun cooking is fine really. I haven't indulged in a while though, so it would be a good change of pace for once."

Lunair listens again. Bottom feeders. With WHISKERS. She smiles a little. "No, but I know better than to grab fish. I'd be a terrible bear, honestly," Her tone is wry. His chuckle makes her smile linger though, why not? She is a bit amused too. She looks to Cal. "Cool," Nod. Then at Cal's question she pauses. "Um. I liked the gumbo. That's all I've had though," She admits. She doesn't elaborate as to why that is. "But as long as it's not ultrabland, I'm sure I'll like it." She'll eat nearly anything that doesn't eat her first.

She nods at Betsy. "Pleased to meet you, Betsy." She bobs her head politely. "Ooh, is that a lily." Time to look at that plant. Then a pause. Hmmm. The Cajun fellow cooking and doing dishes. Well, at least she'd get out of doing some dishes… ahem. "Is it hard to cook that way? It seems like an art unto itself."

"First Pepe now Francois? I can tell we're gon get along jus' fine." Remy's rod is re-strung and cast back out towards the water, the reel catching between a fingertip as he lets it sit, a small bobber marking where it's landed. "No dishes and no laundry. I do my own, thanks." He assures, a casual look given around before reclining back on his elbows to enjoy some of the sunlight and the view. "I promise it'll be good." The food of course. "Great food makes for great livin'. Oh hey, I been talkin' with Charles about training some students since I be around for while, least I be thinkin' what you think about Gambit's Chevaliers? Nice ring to it no?" He's asking Calvin mostly but the conversation is open. He likes the input and the presence, Loon manages to make the Cajun smile a lot. He likes being surrounded by those sorts. Betsy well, so far he thinks shes a bitch but that just adds to the game of makin' her warm up to him.

"Nothing cajun is bland." Cal notes… blandly then looks to Remy. "I think you training people would be fine. A lot of our students have abilities you could help them with." Not necessarily energy powers but athletics in general. Hank is too busy being a scientist to do that too. "Glad to see you getting involved." Despite the whole initial protest about him not being a joiner.

Fish. Totally out of her area of expertise, so she politely dismisses herself from the conversation, mentally, that is. Food however, was a different sort. "I think most cajun food comes with a lot of spices or seasoning, so you'll pretty much have a full belly if you like it enough after first taste. It all depends on the cook really and how much he cares about what he's doing." She pauses, then pipes up. "Or she."

A little smile was given to Lunair then, along with a bob of her head in acknowledgement. With a light huff, she pushes herself to her feet then moves to snatch up her bundled towel from her spot, favoring a nap before all else. She does stop however, pondering something snarky to say about the name choice but.. it actually does sound pretty good. "I personally think it's a good name.." Remy seemed like the headstrong sort. He took her picking at him with a grain of salt, so that was good in her book. Stiff upper lip and all of that. "Find me later Lunair, well.. tomorrow or some such. After you get your fill of Leonardo DiCaprio's cooking, we can visit the French Quarter so you can have your choice of Cajun cooking to see if you're kindly to it."

She flings the towel over her shoulder, preparing to head off. "You boys are welcome as well. Til then, a nap is in order. Goodday Calvin. Remy. Lunair." At least her departures were nice.

Lunair is terribly curious, and seems to enjoy listening to people and what they like. Though, she's playing catch up in a lot of ways - especially social things. She seems amused by the nicknames for Remy. "Awesome," She nods. Why does Lunair seem to dislike bland food? Odd. "And you'll be sticking around? Neat," She remarks. She might've been exploded in the danger room, but that was a fair explosion and it was also educational. And eduplosion, if you will. She has trouble showing emotion on her face sometimes, but her smile lingers for now.

"And interesting," Nod. The world is her oyster to explore, as far as she's concerned. Lunair doesn't know much about fish beyond that they are tasty and many are nice to look at. She glances to Betsy and ahs, she smiles back and nods. "That makes sense," She remarks. Lunair listens attentively. "Okay, that sounds like it'll be fun. Thank you. I'll look for you tomorrow, then," She's fairly perceptive sometimes. Sometimes. A wave to Betsy as she goes. "Enjoy your nap, and it was fun to see you. Be well." Pause. Hey, that's a neat plant. Is it a kind of reed? The lakeside is full of plants and Lunair is now more kneeling to examine things as she listens and chats. But she seems quite happy, chatting here.

"Got my reasons." Remy says quietly then offers a nod to Betsy as she departs, his gaze lingers, he's just that sort. "She call me by my name, I think shes warming up already." Reeling his eyes back in to his head he looks at Lunair and Calvin, "I don't see de harm in helpin' some of the youngers out with the trainin', Loon too with some Canne d'Arme. Whats the worst I could do?" His smile grows as the bobber bounces, once, then again, "Oh, got one." His attention snaps quickly to the pole to lift it up with and tug to the right before he's letting some slack in the line then beginning to reel in.

Whats the worst he can do? "Do you really want an answer to that?" Cal asks Remy, though his tone is teasing. "No teaching anyone pickpocketing. Or breaking and entering." Pause. "That's the for the advanced classes." That kind of thing can come in useful, after all. He leans forward to see the fight with the fish .

Lunair smiles faintly. She's amused by the exchange. She peers over as the bobber bounces. "Cool!" She's watching Remy reel in the fish. Did he get a big one? A tasty one? She looks to Cal, smiling. "I already know that." Pause. "I'm kidding. I usually just blow up the wall if I really need to." Again. "I wouldn't do that." Honest. Though, in fairness, most of Lunair's sneaking comes from looking like she belongs or just like a hapless intern or something. She's being a bit silly about it, thugh. "That would be fun, the Can— that." Yes, she has some trouble with some words. Now, back to watching Remy vs Fish.

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