After The Rain Has Fallen
by Scy

The Cajun had the kind of voice that didn't need training, and was still strong. When Lindsey began to sing, Remy didn't object, and after a few seconds, hummed. The vibration of his voice was on key in a way that only pleased. It made Lindsey want to pull out his guitar and test Remy's harmony with an instrument.

Remy didn't seem to require more than a few hours sleep. No, Lindsey reconsidered, he simply didn't get the rest that others did. Too many thoughts, maybe. Or, he noted the way Remy stared out at the sky beyond his window, too many nightmares.

When he did sleep, there was a flicker of what he must have looked like as a teenager, angles less blinding, the easy way of conversing abandoned to a nearly fluffy tousle of hair over his brow.

Lindsey got used to Gambit touching him, the very thoughtful fingers coasting over his arm, hand, shoulder, not interfering with his driving, just staying in contact with him. It was as if the casual contact nourished him in some way, like food for the soul.

Awareness that this man knew how to seduce and had been practicing the art for years, not a whore, he learned how identify those, Darla gave him enough lessons. And the ones that he tried to replace her with at the office or the corner of some street that he should not know about, for the sake of his career. Not able at the moment to figure out what this man wanted, besides to touch him, but he knew that he was not inexperienced, or a minor, or an undercover cop, because the law enforcement officers he'd known wouldn't know how to do this quite so bluntly, I want you, and you've got nice ribs, wanna fuck?

They wander around the towns, drifting further towards Canada, but out, nearer the coast. Remy didn't mention Seattle, not a fear of water, but memories. Not that Lindsey had any special reason to go, but when he carefully probed out Gambit's reasons , he only gave a bright grin, even as Lindsey saw the half-submerged intent of something carved out of an icy mettle. Young to have such a mindset, Lindsey thought, then snorted, as if he was any less tainted by his experiences. But when Gambit spoke of his lady, sorrow was there, held back with dams of resolve, and Lindsey could tell that if such barriers fell, too much would be relinquished with control taking the lead. His words were delivered with such exacting courtesy that those within hearing ranged shuddered.

So they stuck to the town across from it, looking at the rundown sections, and seeing people, act like everywhere else, but more damp. It rained like the sky was broken in the Northwest, which was something that Lindsey was sure that would take some getting used to. Not that he thought they were going to be in the area long enough to do, but it was a thought. Maybe later, he could visit. Wash some of the more firmly lodged things off of him. Might be good to be that clean.

Remy had no scars to speak of, but a limberness in the body that could not be normal, not that he didn't really appreciate it, but he made a note to ask about it in some way that was mature and not going to offend. ‘Can you do that back thing again?' might make him turn a shade of red he hadn't for years, and for good reason, he learned to keep that sort of thing to himself. The fact that he had an urge to let the thoughts out was good and maybe bad, he hadn't figured it out yet, but hoped that he would be able to.

They're both accustomed to being alone in a group, and each has acquired somewhat unhealthy habits.. Remy smokes, and Lindsey will concede that the odd drink is rather pleasant when there is numbing to be done.

Long in an environment where health was more a game than taste, Lindsey quietly enjoyed some of the more homely diners found along the road, even while the waitresses snapped gum and stared through him with the cool patience with those who have few months of sun and are resigned to wearing rubber boots most days of the year. His voice was a treasure here, and whenever someone spied the instrument huddled among blankets in the cab of the truck, there was a flurry of questions and pleas for music of any sort. Clearly, entertainment was something special where neither sun nor white sand was familiar.

Inevitably Lindsey found himself seated on a worn stool, its age not disguising the craftsmanship tooled into its every grain, fingers striking the first notes of tuning as a small crowed gathered around. From the tiniest touch on the strings, sound burst lively and flowed into every particle of the air and voices hushed with anticipation. His skill, rough though it was, could not be denied the instant he'd stirred the strings. Unfamiliar with town favorites, Lindsey chose something easily recognizable and soon the strumming of deft fingers and his strong, clear voice had feet in motion, the response raucously enthusiastic.

Gambit didn't look bored, so much as resting, and those around him seemed to take cues from his posture, letting down some of their guard. He could do a lot of things, not nice with that ability to win confidence, and here it might be necessary.

Lindsey thought it could be considered a personality flaw that he was most comfortable around people that could cause him serious harm. Not that he always liked being the vulnerable one, but that was the way that things seemed to work out.

He had wanted before, but between having a crisis of career objectives, being promoted, and having his hand severed by He Who Was Desired, he learned that trying to acquire another individual was unwise. Remembered his fury at finding out that Darla and Angel had renewed their intimacy and now wasn't positive which vampire's loss had wounded him more. But he was relieved that Levis were his default pants instead of wool that cost much to be cleaned. He knew the customs of the rich and the poor and could speak both languages without difficulty. Watching Remy, he wondered, for the thousandth time, from where his companion hailed.

As if there wasn't enough rain, some of it comes with the woman.

A friend of Remy's from the way he smiled, but his back didn't uncoil, and he looked as though he wasn't sure that movement didn't equal flight.

This woman could be an outcast, but only for a moment, because her beauty required worship. The way that Remy touched her fingers, clasp of the wrist, letting her have his cheek first, a kiss that was a cursory examination. Lindsey could tell that she had power. Genetic and history, potent apart, together made her someone that Remy listened to, and it was all that time staring at people, so that he would know much more than his clients told him.

So when Remy introduced 'Ororo,' Lindsey kissed the hand offered to him, and grinned knowingly.


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