All set to argue they can't possibly have mutual property, she is instead compelled to point at each cat in turn, names rising up to her tongue from nowhere. "Oliver, Lucifer, Figaro."
That settles that, she guesses. She further shrugs her arms into her sleeves, a common nervous response, and sighs, "Bet you named 'em."
Edited (This is a better insult sorry) Date: 2025-08-11 12:05 am (UTC)
"Maybe they came with 'em," he counters without any particular conviction. It's not like he has a better idea for names for three cats, off the top of his head. But it seems like she's trying to be mean to him, so he feels he should defend himself.
He enters the room, which is a bit of a mess. The bed is unmade and laundry is strewn everywhere, including pieces of a discarded superhero costume which immediately draws his eye as he nudges them with his foot.
They're cute enough cats. Rogue finds herself not wishing to argue any further at this juncture, and shrugs, agreeing with just a "Maybe."
So they were not underfoot any longer, and certainly not because she wants to cuddle a cat, Rogue picks up Figaro as she looks around the room. It's an absolute mess, and that mess spills out of this one side, into the bathroom, and on to another side that is moderately neater but still not tidy. The clothes on the floor aren't that different than the ones on his side, but still she feels very strongly this must be her room.
"We got two rooms." She announces to him from the door, "We made it real big."
blindcutremy lebeau 🃏 gambitDate: 2025-08-13 04:35 am (UTC)
"Shit, yeah," he agrees, peeking through to look into her room but hanging back from actually setting foot in it. "Maybe the whole house is ours."
Even as he's saying it, he knows it's not true. The fact that they have a home in such a fancy place at all seems like a positive sign, though, and he immediately sets about a task he's very familiar with: checking the place for valuables. In the closet, he finds a small safe and fiddles with the lock, trying several combinations he might set himself that don't work.
"When's your birthday?" he calls back to her through the shared bathroom.
The whole house is probably not theirs, but Rogue laughs at this idea anyway, imagining that for a moment. "House is too full. Better not all be ours." She points out. Rogue saw a bunch of teenagers around earlier, and that sounds like too much responsibility.
She floats back to his side of the room again, curious, and stands over his shoulder.
"August 20. Which is next week, here, so we can't forget it. What you got in there?"
blindcutremy lebeau 🃏 gambitDate: 2025-08-14 01:45 am (UTC)
That does it, and the safe comes open.
"Cash. 10k about," he says, handing the stack of bills to her over his shoulder, figuring it doesn't really count as stealing if it belongs to one or both of them. It's the documents he's more interested in, and he immediately picks up two pairs of passports, each bound together with a rubber band.
The first two have obviously fake names on them. As he unbinds the second set, he notes that his bears his legal surname. Hers does too.
"You don't got a real one," he says after a second, handing her all four of the passports before he goes back to rooting around in the safe. "Unless your name's Rainbow Duke."
She's never held on to ten thousand dollars in cash before, and she lets the cat go in order to flip through it, almost reverent. She tucks it carefully into the backpack she still hasn't taken off, the one with all her earthly belongings in it. Surely their future selves won't miss this.
Identitcal pictures for the passports. Only hers says Anna Marie Lebeau. She turns it around, as though inspecting its quality. If this is a fake, it's real good. "Close to it as I'm getting. This is my real name." She hadn't told him that, yet. "'Cept I don't got a last name. Or I don't remember it, anyway. Must borrow yours, sometimes, for papers?"
blindcutremy lebeau 🃏 gambitDate: 2025-08-14 03:32 am (UTC)
"Anna Marie," he repeats, like it's the most ridiculous name he's ever heard in his life. Then he shrugs it off and goes back to rifling through the papers. The next one of interest that he finds is the marriage certificate. He pauses long enough to run his thumb over the embossed state seal of Oklahoma, then lets the matching birth certificates fall back over it and hands the entire stack to her to put into the backpack. He's not sure if they're still planning to leave, but he supposes better to have the stuff on them than not.
"How are we going to take these cats with us?" he wonders instead of commenting on it.
Rogue rolls her eyes. It's not like she chose that name. Her unknown parents gave it to her in a time long dead and there's a reason she chose to not use it. She wonders a little if she goes by Anna Marie as a grownup. She hopes not.
"Saw carriers 'round here someplace." She murmurs as the stack of papers are shoved into her hand. She flips through these. Birth certificates. And then a strange piece of paper she hasn't seen much of in the wild, before. Rogue blinks. "Hold on, we got married? You married me when I was nineteen??"
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DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
That settles that, she guesses. She further shrugs her arms into her sleeves, a common nervous response, and sighs, "Bet you named 'em."
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
He enters the room, which is a bit of a mess. The bed is unmade and laundry is strewn everywhere, including pieces of a discarded superhero costume which immediately draws his eye as he nudges them with his foot.
"We must live here," he concludes.
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
So they were not underfoot any longer, and certainly not because she wants to cuddle a cat, Rogue picks up Figaro as she looks around the room. It's an absolute mess, and that mess spills out of this one side, into the bathroom, and on to another side that is moderately neater but still not tidy. The clothes on the floor aren't that different than the ones on his side, but still she feels very strongly this must be her room.
"We got two rooms." She announces to him from the door, "We made it real big."
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
Even as he's saying it, he knows it's not true. The fact that they have a home in such a fancy place at all seems like a positive sign, though, and he immediately sets about a task he's very familiar with: checking the place for valuables. In the closet, he finds a small safe and fiddles with the lock, trying several combinations he might set himself that don't work.
"When's your birthday?" he calls back to her through the shared bathroom.
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
She floats back to his side of the room again, curious, and stands over his shoulder.
"August 20. Which is next week, here, so we can't forget it. What you got in there?"
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
"Cash. 10k about," he says, handing the stack of bills to her over his shoulder, figuring it doesn't really count as stealing if it belongs to one or both of them. It's the documents he's more interested in, and he immediately picks up two pairs of passports, each bound together with a rubber band.
The first two have obviously fake names on them. As he unbinds the second set, he notes that his bears his legal surname. Hers does too.
"You don't got a real one," he says after a second, handing her all four of the passports before he goes back to rooting around in the safe. "Unless your name's Rainbow Duke."
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
She's never held on to ten thousand dollars in cash before, and she lets the cat go in order to flip through it, almost reverent. She tucks it carefully into the backpack she still hasn't taken off, the one with all her earthly belongings in it. Surely their future selves won't miss this.
Identitcal pictures for the passports. Only hers says Anna Marie Lebeau. She turns it around, as though inspecting its quality. If this is a fake, it's real good. "Close to it as I'm getting. This is my real name." She hadn't told him that, yet. "'Cept I don't got a last name. Or I don't remember it, anyway. Must borrow yours, sometimes, for papers?"
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
"How are we going to take these cats with us?" he wonders instead of commenting on it.
DAY 1: Rogue, Remy, and the cats
"Saw carriers 'round here someplace." She murmurs as the stack of papers are shoved into her hand. She flips through these. Birth certificates. And then a strange piece of paper she hasn't seen much of in the wild, before. Rogue blinks. "Hold on, we got married? You married me when I was nineteen??"