15366/Boathouse Breakfast.

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Boathouse Breakfast.
Date of Scene: 21 July 2023
Location: Boathouse - Xavier's School
Synopsis: Remy and Betsy have things well in Hand.
Cast of Characters: Psylocke, Gambit

Psylocke has posed:
It takes a while. Long enough that one might doubt the purple-haired woman's word.

Remy LeBeau, master thief, manages to secure the expensive and exclusive bottle of Dalmore whiskey she challenged him to. He sets it in the window, as she bids. And yet there's no sign of her. No promised breakfast. No explanation for her challenge.

Until today.

From the kitchen of Remy's boathouse comes the scent of fresh coffee, the sizzle of bacon, the delicious mix of a hot breakfast. It's very, very appealing. At least until one sees it.

Sure, it's kind of cheating to use one's powers to sneak into the boathouse undetected. But promises were made, and Betsy does keep her promises. Even when they're ones she's sure the recipient will regret. She's cooked for herself less than a handful of times in her life. The bacon is overcooked. The eggs are undercooked. The beans are warm...ish.

On the upside, she's made proper English tea with effortlessness, so there's that.
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau is almost a telepathic ghost. The Professor himself has trouble pinning the Cajun down, and for most telepaths it's easier to point and scream telepathically then brush his mind. So as he comes out for his promised...reward... he has managed to get fully dressed and simply appear nearby. "Well Ah can' pretend dat yah not warn me." He says with a chuckle looking at the breakfast she has...committed. Still he fully intends to eat it. "So 'ow yah doin' dis morning."
Psylocke has posed:
Despite the fact that the breakfast is going... well, terribly, Betsy is, as ever, her composed, elegant self. Her hair, usually left lose, has been braided up and into a bun, a light touch of makeup. Instead of her usual mix of elegant summer dresses, she's gone for loose, long pants, and a close-fitting top with surprisingly low heels. It's a sign that this isn't just a disaster breakfast.

"I did warn you," Betsy agrees, with a smile, one that turns into a laugh as he sits down with the apparent intention of eating. Dutifully, she serves up a plate of the food in a mix of quality, stealing a bit of the too-crispy bacon for herself with a grin.

After she crunches her way through it, Betsy sets two mugs of tea down, lifting her own to sip at it. "I'm well, Remy. About to get on a plane. As are you, if you want another challenge." She tilts her head, questioningly.
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau picks up a single black square that at one point in the not so distant past dreamed of being a piece of toast, works the corner of it through his beans and then the eggs before taking a bite. "Dare a honey pot in de fridge, sil vous plait." he says nodding to the tea and looking amused. Jack is meanwhile sitting patently under the table waiting on Remy to give up on this disaster. His too long tail whipping everything at ankle height. "What's de job?" he asks biting into the bacon.
Psylocke has posed:
If anyone who knew her before she joined the X-Men knew Lady Elizabeth Braddock was going to fridge and serving up honey to a Cajun thief, they would have a hard time reconciling the mental image. And yet Betsy does as asked, a tell in itself, setting the requested honey down beside his plate as she resumes sipping her tea.

"There is a sword that used to be mine. Kwannon's, technically, but I was the one who earned it. It was made by one of the finest craftsman in ancient Japan, supposedly tempered over a hundred times." Betsy talks about the sword like one might talk of a beloved pet, or even a lover: there's warmth and yearning in her voice. "It was taken from me as punishment, but I require it back. Unfortunately, those that hold it are aware of my abilities and have put in countermeasures. Ones that should not affect you." She glances down towards the dog, briefly, then back up to Remy.

"It's in Japan. I have a private plane waiting on the tarmac at LaGuardia."
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau nods slightly, "An' yah wan' Remy ta steal back what was stolen from yah." He says calmly. He carefully spoons a few teaspoons of honey into his tea. Then he scrapes the beans off of his plate onto a napkin and places the rest of the plate onto the floor where the dog makes appreciative noises at Betsy's Culinary genius. "Ah assume yah 'ave more foh me den Sword here? Building plans, security layout?
Psylocke has posed:
At least someone appreciates the food. For that, Jack gets a pat, Betsy bending over to approvingly pet. Straightening after, she gives Remy an effortless smile. "Indeed. I can provide that on the plane, so you'll have sufficient time to look and plan." Not before. She trusts, but she's cautious as well. "Anything else you need I can arrange to have ready for us by the time we land."

The smile fades, but her gaze holds Remy's. "All of that said, this is the Hand. It may pull their attention to you. So I will understand if you opt out." She might /judge/, but she'll understand. She was one of them. They are relentless. "If you say yes, I have a helicopter waiting to take us to LaGuardia."
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau stands and gives Jack's ears a quick ruffle. "Jack, go to the house. I've gotta work." the hound finishes licking the plate and bounds over to the door, knowing that the students are going to spoil him rotten and that there will be plenty of "Foot eating demons" (shoes) to destroy. The Cajun finishes his scalding hot tea in a single swollow and adds, "Chere, yah insult me. De only way Ah evah end up on dare radar is if dey know Ah was dare... And dey nevah will.
Psylocke has posed:
Betsy's serious expression turns into a warmer one at Remy's response -- as much at the flippancy as the fact that it's tacit agreement. "My apologies. Will you ever forgive me, Remy?" asked with a slight purr to her voice. The woman will slide a hand through Remy's arm, fingers resting lightly on his forearm as she escorts him outside, not towards the drive, where the vehicles are, but down towards an open field where, as promised, a helicopter awaits.

Climbing up into the pilot's seat, Betsy gestures for Remy to put the headset on, and not long after, the helicopter lifts off under her guidance, setting a low path to LaGuardia airport. It seems she's expected, as she's given immediate clearance to land, and from there, an older man in a crisp suit meets them and guides them out to a waiting private plane.

As promised, on the plane is a tablet with information on the layout and known security of the target site. It appears to be a temple in northern Japan, somewhat isolated. There are several pairs of guards who roam the grounds, cameras and motion sensors inside the temple itself and focused on the room in a sub-level where the sword is. Bonus: Remy does indeed get decent service from the flight attendant, a pretty young woman who does a much, much better breakfast than Betsy. The sun is setting over Japan as they come into land, with the purple-haired telepath smiling at Remy. "So. You have a plan?"
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau smiles slightly, "foh disparaging mah honor an' talent? Oui Ah fohgive yah chere. Foh dat breakfast... Ah'll 'ave ta t'ink on it." He says with a wicked smirk and follows her out to the helicopter. He does put on the headset but... Well Remy doesn't like helicopters. He's fine in planes, but Choppers always seem to make him uncomfortable, and he's never properly explained why. Still once the mercifully brief flight is over he seems to snap back to himself quickly enough. That said once on the plane, Remy... well transforms isn't quite the right word, but it's apt. He's no longer Remy LeBeau resident layabout and goof ball. Not the guy who pour liquid nitrogen in Scott's underwear drawer knowing Bobby would get the blame or the guy who managed to skip not one, not two, but seventeen consecutive camera duties until Scott sat him in the chair and stood behind him for all six entire 18 hour shifts. Yjos man is calm, prefessional. He's in full thief mode. He asks for paper an a pencil, eating lightly as he takes notes and barely ever looks away from the screen for the first three hours of their flight, finally asking "what our time table?
Psylocke has posed:
"I /did/ warn you," Betsy reminds, of the breakfast. "Next time someone asks me to cook for them, I'll give them your number as a reference not to press." The woman seems aware of Remy's discomfort, and it's subtle but he might well feel a slight easing as they travel, like she's mentally siphoning off some of that sensation.

A pencil and paper is particularly old school, but the flight attendant doesn't blink before producing the required items. Betsy remains silent unless he asks her questions, very aware of the transformation in Remy, and it seems to please the woman. "However long you need. The plane is on standby to take us back to New York, but I have an apartment we can work from if you wish to do further surveillance. I will warn that the longer I am in the city, the riskier it gets. There are people set out to watch for me, and though I will shield our presence as best I can-" she means she's going to mess with people's memories so they don't remember they were even there, "-it is best not to linger. However, I assure you, the information is up to date, and personally collected by me."
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau nods, unlike other X-Men he doesn't seem at all put off by the idea of Betsy going in and giving the oppositions thinkers a little tinker. He makes a few more notes and says, "Yah planning on infiltrating wit' me, or dis gonna be a solo oo. I don' mind de back up, but if we do dis it gonna be Zero Body count." He doesn't say it in an accusatory or threatening tone. just a statement of fact.
Psylocke has posed:
"I can come with you -- but only so far," Betsy warns. "They're aware of my abilities and they keep the place well lit. Cutting the power would alert them immediately -- and I believe they have backup generators, too, that would counter that."

When Remy enforces his no body count rule, it gets him a cool, considering look. Not from Betsy, but clearly Kwannon, if he's paying attention. "The Hand won't be so kind in dealing with you in turn. But if that's your condition," a lift and drop of one shoulder, as if reluctantly agreeing to the terms.
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau nods. "And dats why we get ta keep callin' ourselves de good guys, non?" he replies simply, going over the data again and nodding. He's making a list of names and items in French, likely contacts and tools he'll need to aquire for the op. "Dey gonna tie dis back ta yah no matter what, non?" He asks simply.
Psylocke has posed:
"We should have a conversation about that some time," Betsy says in her cool tones. "But not now." She's not going to disagree openly, not now -- but it's not hard to see where her thoughts lie, since merging with Kwannon it's all the more readily apparent she's a lot more morally flexible on that score.

"Little reason for anyone else to go to such lengths to obtain the sword but me. So yes, they will know it's me," Betsy says. Once the list is complete, she'll take it and hand it to the attendant, who will call ahead to make sure they have what's on his list to hand.
Gambit has posed:
It takes two days, with Remy taking time to go over the plans in depth. He spends a short period just getting a casual visual on the target. I also spends eight hours the first night in a meeting that he very plainly tells Betsy she is not invited to, saying only that it is "T'ief business," and "Good manners." So it is roughly three AM on their second night when he sets all of the notes and plans he has made in the fireplace, touches them untill they just barely start to glow pink...then catch fire, and says "alright chere. We on."
Psylocke has posed:
The place Betsy has them set up in is a single story, two bedroom bungalow, overlooking a lake. It's a good two hours drive from civilization, and with no help here to cook, its down to pre-packaged meals, unless Remy chooses to take over in the kitchen.

Given the disaster of a breakfast, it might well be.

If anything, Betsy seems amused when Remy departs on his secret business. "Have fun," is all she says. If she's in his head at all, then or later, it doesn't show in her expression. The moment she sees Remy burning his notes and plans, she's ready. She gives a single nod, disappears into her room, and changes into familiar costume -- the tight black ninja outfit, baring her long legs, and the visible scar high on her thigh near her femoral artery, newly healed enough to look mere weeks old. She doesn't often carry physical weapons -- relying on her psychic abilities -- though tonight she does, carrying a pair of knives. Telling, of what she might expect.

The approach to the target location is uphill from their lodgings, a solid hike that requires significant fitness. The temple itself is quiet, a slight hint of smoke in the air from a chimney near the rear. Most of the surrounding grounds are lit sparsely, or only with the faintly visible moonlight, the guard pairs moving per the routine Remy was given. Psylocke is his shadow -- almost literally. She stays close to Remy, voice barely audible as she murmurs, "Do you want me to put them under?" the guards. The deferral might be unexpected for the normally dominant woman. She's letting him lead entirely on this one.
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau for his part is dressed simmilar to his X-Men combat gear, with some minor changes. Anything that was fuchsia his now storm cloud grey for starters, and his face framing head piece has been replaces with a full face covering mask. He still wears his duster, which has so many pockets that it is an invaluable piece of gear and is carrying his collapsible adamantium bo staff. The card loaded up his sleaves each have two decks ready. He does not expect trouble. Ideally they will be on a plane and drinking champagne before the Hand realizes the sword is gone... Remy long ago stopped believing in things like ideal worlds however. At Betsy's question Remy shakes his head slightly, "Non, yah drop dem an' someone might find dem. Jus' make dem drowsy. Inattentive.
Psylocke has posed:
It requires a little more mental energy -- and upkeep -- to keep people drowsy and inattentive. Betsy however follows Remy's instructions. When it's done, he can see the effects -- see the guards yawning as they move, pausing near a tree to survey the grounds, away from where they're intending to head.

It'll be a decent dash across open ground -- but it leads them along a path that should keep them out of the sight of any surveillance, at least, Betsy a silent presence at his heels, more felt than heard.

The doors on the ground floor are locked -- readily breached with someone of Remy's skills. There's also the second floor windows, though there's no way to tell whether they'll be unlocked or not.
Gambit has posed:
Most people could not have opened that locked door as fast if they had a key. Less then five seconds later the door is open and the Cajun is passing through it making room for Betsy to follow and closing the door behind them. He checks his watch, having memorized the aproximate times of the interior patrols. He eyes cameras, and whispers, "We need ta get dose on a loop. Nex' stop de security room."
Psylocke has posed:
The security room is near to the center of the temple, off the large room that probably once served as a gathering place, but now merely stores a number of crates. The lights are low, but none of the shadows are exceptionally dark. With a silent nod, Betsy follows in Remy's wake, taking cues about when it's safe to move from him.

As they approach the security room, Betsy hangs back in the shadows, closing her eyes, exhaling. "There's one... two people inside. I'll distract them from looking at the screens while you get in and deal with it."

The door to the security room is a heavy steel, held closed by a keypad, likely not that much of a burden to pass for the master thief. Inside, there's a pair of security guards: one's slumped down with his chin on his chest, snoring lightly. The other's seeming in a daze, gazing off into the distance. On the screens, the varying camera angles flicker between views, easily controlled from the security console, though he'll have to move one of the guards out of the way to get to it.
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau gives the one not quite asleep a firm rap with his bo staff, sending him to unconsciousness. He inserts the USB drive that his contact had delivered that morning, which loops approximately a two minute clip of each camera back onto itself. He makes sure both gaurds look like they just dozed off... something certainly common enough for anyone watching cameras for several hours at a time, then slips back out again soundlessly. He nods to the ninja and smirks, "Now ah believe yah said somet'ing about an oversized letter opener?"
Psylocke has posed:
Betsy smiles in response to his smirk. "Much more useful than your toothpick," she replies with a gesture to his bostaff. "It's downstairs. There's an entrance at the back of this room." Sure enough, behind a screen, there's a non descript door which will lead down into stairs. The stairs -- and the space beyond -- is brightly lit in contrast to the dim lighting up here. On the stairwell, Betsy stops. "I'll stay here. Guard our exit. You remember which room?"

The one at the end of the corridor, on the right. Most of the other rooms down here appeared to be sleeping quarters or storage rooms. There are visible cameras, but given he looped the footage, he shouldn't have to worry about that.

Just whether he runs into anyone while down there.

The room in question has a more complex phyiscal lock on it. Not unbreakable -- certainly not by Remy -- but enough to delay him a little longer. Whenever he gets it open, the room beyond will, like the corridor, be flooded in light. There, in the middle of the room, is a katana, sheathed and resting on a stand. It looks easy -- too easy. And it won't take him long to see the small pinpricks along the wall that denote lasers, even if he can't seem the in the room itself. There's also, in the corner, a small cylindrical object on a stand.
Gambit has posed:
So fun fact, Remy's unique red on black eyes actually allow him to see into the infra red spectrum of light. In fact deprived of his powers that is /all/ he can see. Basically he can see heat and lasers. One of those things being quite invaluable at the moment. He leaves his coat near the door, moving with effortless grace over and around the laser tripwires. As such he bypasses the sword completely at first, going towards the cylindrical object but not touching it. He has no interest in depriving the Hand of any of it's treasures beyond the sword... but best to know about strange objects in a room you plan on stealing from.
Psylocke has posed:
Remy effortlessly navigates the lasers. It'd be a sight to see, if anyone else were there to see it.

To his gaze, the cylindrical object -- almost like glass, but completely opaque -- appears to do nothing. It does appear to be quite warm though, something he can tell even without touching it. And, if he looks closely, he might be able to see the remnants of blood pooling at its base, like it had blood poured over it and dripped down -- only there's no sign of blood anywhere on the surface of the sphere.

It has the stink of some kind of magic about it. It's always impossible to know whether messing with those would make things better or worse. Either way, it doesn't seem to react to his presence.
Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau moves, or practically dances back around the lasers again. He pauses at the sword to make sure that it isn't on a separate alarm system, Then carefully temoves it and slings it over his shoulder. He leaves in it's place a Business card for FISK Enterprises, with Mr. Fisk sends his warmest regards" handwritten on the back. will it work? Impossible to tell, but it never hurts to muddy waters in this sort of thing... Then it's back across the room, retrieve his coat and leave the room locking the door behind him.
Psylocke has posed:
With the sword secured, Remy comes back up the stairs to be met by the sight of a still Betsy, casually watching a pair of ninjas. They're stopped, like they're frozen mid-stride. Betsy smiles, the satisfaction audible in her voice. "You got it," and she turns her violet-gaze towards Remy, approving and delighted. She'll claim the weapon from Remy, fingers brushing over the sheath, before she hooks the strap over her back.

With a last look at the frozen ninjas, Betsy says, "Let's get out of here. I should be able to hold them while we get off the grounds."

A private plane and yes, that champagne, multiple bottle of Dom Perignon in fact, awaits them, Betsy expressing her thanks in the same way she was taught: via expensive gifts. They might even get through the whole stock of it by the time they reach US soil.