riverviewlogs | It's a party, ya'll

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It's a party, ya'll

who: Everyone's invited!
what: That potluck he mentioned
when: Saturday afternoon
where: The park
warnings: None so far!

[True to form, Remy pulled out all the stops for this particular potluck. He has it on good authority that Rogue's bringing cornbread, but he's got what seems to be a wireless two-burner setup that he's brought along to the park, one of which is dominated by a very large pot of fragrant and spicy gumbo, and the other by a very large pot of cooked white rice, on warm. There's a small table with plastic-seeming (but totally biodegradable) bowls and utensils, two large coolers (because people might be bringing drinks), two big folding tables (for all the things that might be brought) and a big expanse of the park to cop a squat in and have some good grub, place some outdoors-y things, and have some fun! The park as a grill too, if someone wants to fire it up!]

(OOC: Feel free to post your own starters and have a ball! This is meant to be fun, after all. If you want Remy specifically, let me know! He'll be wandering around.)

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[There weren't many things on a desert table to trump Rogue's pecan pie any day, and it looked like today was going to be the same. Remy had been making his rounds, being a good host (because he was actually pretty good at it) when Anna decided to join them. He hadn't doubted for a moment she'd come, of course. It had merely been a question of when.

He slid in beside her easily enough, and he was familiar enough with her to recognize that slight tension between her eyebrows. Something was bothering her.]

Bonjour, mon chere. Glad you could make it. [And he wrapped an around around her waist because, you know, she was wearing clothes. He could do that.] You feelin' alright?

[While she may not have been looking his way at that moment, Rogue knew where Remy was amongst the guests the moment they all appeared as ant sized dots during her approach. It's a habit that she's never tried to break, always wanting to have his back in a fight. Then there was that blemish of trust that still lingers from their pasts.]

Glad to be here Remy. You've done good gatherin' all these people together.

[She's genuinely proud of him and it showed. His relatively bold move of wrapping his arm around her may have been politely pushed away under different circumstances, but in front of a host of guests (many of which she was eyeballing as possible competition) and while she's genuinely under the weather? Well, Rogue found herself leaning into his touch with ease. He'd feel some of her tension release as she pressed against him, her body a higher overall temperature than usual, a slight fever that she's stubbornly ignoring.

Still, she smiled at his greeting, waving away his concern with her 'free' hand, the other one slipping around his waist affectionately.] Ah'm just a bit tired. Flight took more out of me than usual. [And before his inevitable protest:] Don't fuss over me. Ah'll be fine.

[Famous last words.]

[He noted the way she relaxed at his touch, sure enough, and frowned over at her, concern evident in his expression, though his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, they didn't do much to hide the way his eyebrows knitted together.]

You sure I can't get ya anything, Rogue? You feel warm.

[There's no use trying to hide behind her sunglasses, what with them up in her mess of hair, not when he's already on the trail. His voice alone told her that much even before she noticed his brows.]

Ah ain't about to be a burden at your shindig.

[He heaves a sigh, shaking his head.]

Yo' not, Rogue, but maybe you should be back home restin', non?

Ah'd much rather be here. Ah'll be fine sugah.

[And she offers him a genuine smile regardless of the tired creeping in on her, giving his side a reassuring squeeze. It's been a while since she's enjoyed a good potluck for one, and for two, three, four and maybe five she's not about to leave him to his own devices in a pack of pretty ladies.]

'Sides, you ain't sendin' me away without any of that gumbo seein' as ah held up mah end of the bargain.

[He chuckles at that, more than willing to let it slide. He was concerned, sure, but Rogue was also a grown damned woman, and if she wanted to stick around to enjoy a potluck, he wasn't going to stop her.]

D'accord, mon cher. You wanna stay, I ain't gonna stop ya. [But he does smile.] Hope you brought yo' appetite.

[He's right. Being a grown ass woman gave her the right to make all sorts of terrible decisions. Staying to enjoy the weather, his company, and the delicious food despite what felt like a cold sneaking up on her isn't the worst decision she's made.]

You tryin' would end up one hell of a spectacle. [ Dinner and a show would be served. She grins at his question, placing her free hand dramatically on her stomach. ] Oh ah came prepared. It's been quite sometime since ah've had some of your gumbo.

[His cooking was always a slice of home, even more so here and now.]

Dat right? [He chuckles, crossing his arms in mock defense.] I got my ways, Rogue, and you know it.

[At least ways to throw her off, but this was neither the time, nor the place.]

Tres bien. If de lady would follow me, lunch is served.

[When he crosses his arms, she takes the liberty of pinching his side several times before loosening her grip and slipping her hand from his waist, dragging her fingertips along the low of his back.] You know better than to start a war like that in a place like this Cajun.

[Not in public when both parties are competitive as all get up.

She motions for him to lead the way, the knowing smirk still solidly curling on her lips. It's clear that despite her tiredness, Rogue's damn excited about eating his cooking again.]

[He's still chuckling as he looped his arm around her waist as well.]

We'll see how ya feel about dat after we get you fed, non?

Mhm. That we will.

[Her hand slid back around and settled low and lazy on his hip. She knew she shouldn't be possessive, or give into too much tactile distraction with him. Yet it felt so right and so easy when she didn't focus on the details beyond the here and now.

So she's going to peer critically at the food set out across the tables.]

You best kick Cap's ass in frisbee.

[If Remy minded the subtle act of possession she enacted over him, he didn't show it, instead choosing to enjoy it while it lasted and inevitably died in the wake of her own mind. He started about filling a plate for her from the gathered foods on the table, knowing what to grab just for knowing her so well.]

Ain' no doubt in dat one, cher. I'll win. [Even if I have to cheat, which...is never out of the cards.]

[Her mind was the best and worst of her, allowing her to manage the powers of others with relatively quick aptitude, but while also blocking her ability to actually control her own power. Then there's the obvious overthinking in situations such as her and Remy's relationship.

She knew she didn't need to direct him in doling out a plate, a gentlemanly gesture that conveniently allowed her to keep her arm situated on his hip. Not that she was complaining, especially when she saw the delights he was piling onto her plate. He received a pleased and thankful squeeze at his words, smirking at him because she knew what he was thinking, bad gambling pun and all.

There are always bad gambling puns.]

Better, or else ah'll never hear the end of it from Steve.

[He chuckles at that, finishing off her plate and moving her, well the both of them, toward a table to have a seat. He'd eat in a bit, once he'd made sure more of his guests had gotten a plate, but that didn't mean he could spend some more time with Rogue first.]

Steve said somethin' that caught my attention, actually. One, told me I was right about somethin'. That was weird.

[She falls into step with him, letting him take the lead while she eyes the plate he's set up for her with a less than stellar poker face, her slight exhaustion manifesting itself into evident hunger. Good news is that she appears pleased with his decisions, and that's always a win for Remy.

Her eyebrow ticks upwards as she takes a seat, letting her knee brush his before settling comfortably close, but not io>too close.]

We all hate admittin' you're right Remy. [She teases with a reassuring squeeze, but a more serious note settles in her eyes.] What's the somethin'?

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It's a party, ya'll

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