apparently I was fascinated with the idea that previously untrustworthy people were leading x-teams.



Scott stepped out of the rental car, looking the same. possibly paler, possibly just colder. as far as Remy was concerned, the arctic and antarctic both equalled hell. "Bon matin, Cyclops."

"What are you doing?"

"Washin' m' car."

There was, obviously, a brand new BMW sitting in the driveway, and a bucket of soapy water on the grass, but still he asked. Scott stepped forward once, twice, as if he were a little reluctant. The easy answer was he was afraid of the puddles, but Remy figured he was actually scared to see all the new damage to the house and the grounds. "Ah."

"Jean comin' later?"

"I promised her I'd pick her up later. She was at the grocery store." Scott paused; "we didn't know how many people were here, whether the fridge was empty or not."

An akward pause, which clearly stated that they didn't really expect to find anyone here, they expected to find the Mansion and the good fight deserted with nothing but a thief in charge.

Remy finally pointed to the Mansion; the hose slipped from his hand, and more water sloshed onto the driveway. "Still standin', eh?"

"Still standing," Scott said. "My compliments. I didn't actually think to find it."

"Merci," and he put his sunglasses on, and that was better, now Scott didn't look like the cold, he just looked darker like everything else. "You jus' caught me on th' way out."


That hint of question, always there. Remy leaned over, and carefully turned the faucet off. "Business."


Remy narrowed his eyes. "Oui." He glanced back at the house - still standing. Shook his head, once. "S'all yours, don' worry." Got into the car, and started it.

"Take care," Scott said.

"Oui," Remy replied. He adjusted the mirror, added, "Much love, homme." He didn't say see you soon.