kineticcajun | Appointments

[He'd be trying to charge the soles of his boots if he wasn't so sure that the slightest power fluctuation would blow his feet off. Instead, he's just focusing on balance.]

Could be. But I hate t'break it to you, this ol' Cajun's better at makin' enemies than friends.

You are a prince of thieves, yes? It is to be expected. [And there it is, the Dome fully in view through the snow and the wind.]

Besides. If you make an enemy, their enemies in turn would consider you a friend. Or an ally.

[Battle Dome, you are the most beautiful building he has ever seen right now.]

Sometimes. [It's how he ended up working with the Xavier kids a few times even when working for Magneto. But it never lasts. He gives a small frown.] Allies are a bit easier t'come by here, at leas'.

We've one large common enemy Remy. Everyone has something against our jailer. [Somber for a moment but she pushes through the last of the snow to walk up the stairs to the Battle Dome's doors.]

Ain't that the truth. [He trudges up the stairs as well, shakes the snow off his shoulders, and pushes through the doors. Ahh, glorious lack of snow. He grins back at her, already starting to cheer up just being out of the elements.]

Want your pack of cards now or you wantin' to wait 'til I got the targets set up?

Now, if you do not mind. [She takes some time to tap the packed snow off of her feet and brush it off of her coat, folding it over and setting it aside once they reach whatever room it is Gambit leads her to.] Better to get a feel for their weight and balance, such as it is, early, yes?

That it is. [He pulls a fresh pack of cards from one pocket and hands it over to her. The plastic has been removed, but that's about it. Once she's taken the cards, he'll get to punching in a fairly basic target practice range on the console.] These cards, they got a good balance to 'em. Guess I oughta count myself lucky they got better than jus' the cheap stuff here.

[She accepts the pack with a nod and thumbs it open, tugging the cards out to feel the weight of the whole deck.] Substandard cards make it difficult to throw. In medical school we would...I do not know what it is called, but you throw cards to make them land in the hat. If you didn't, you drank.

Me an' my brother used to play that game. [He grins.] An' then Henri got sick'a losin'.

[Type, type. Done. He's tossed in a few more difficult targets if she picks it up quickly as well as for himself to aim at, and taps the console as a signal that it's done.]

There. [And he'll even be all dramatic and give a bow, gesturing towards the training room.] After you.

...Henri? [She'd forgotten entirely about his brother's name. Hearing it made her distant for a moment, a little sad, a little worn. Someone she'd never see again. A beat later she's back to herself and shuffling the cards in uncertain hands. Adele enters the training room, eying the targets. Tossing a card down into a hat is one thing, but acting against gravity is a completely different animal.] Thank you.

[Gambit starts shuffling as well, eyes on his cards rather than on Adele. His family relationships haven't exactly been too sturdy.] Oui. Henri. He's an idiot.

[His tone is a little hollow on that, but he still tries to brush right past it. His shuffling is probably the only hint that he's a little agitated, but then again, it's also usually a sign of boredom, so it may not be so clear.]

But my idiot brother ain't important right now. We gotta teach you some throwin' techniques, non?

No it is just. My youngest sibling. His name is Henri as well, though he is a little less of an idiot. [She chuckles and runs her fingers over the edges of her cards.] While I am not the most skilled at this, spent an evening walking him through it before he went to the university.

...[Enough about siblings.]

A demonstration would be the best way to start, yes?

[Huh. He almost laughs. Friend named Remy, and now a brother named Henri. He's not sure he wants to know if she has a Tante Mattie as well, that might be a little too uncanny. With a shake of his head to clear that thought, he takes one card from his deck with a practiced, fluid motion.]

I t'ink you're right, doc. A demonstration oughta help a bit. The motion's real quick, though - an' it's all in the wrist.

[He'll hold the card steady for a moment so she can get a good idea of how to balance it - and also to remind himself that no, we are not charging the card this time - and then with a flick of the wrist, he throws the card straight through the center of a target hoop.]

[Adele isn't oblivious to how strange this all was for both of them and lets the subject pass without any further commentary. Instead she focuses on the motion of Gambit's wrist, frowning a little as she tries, and fails, to catch all the nuances therein.

She mimics the gesture without throwing the card a few times, gauging how it should feel before standing and taking aim. Eyes narrow, she flicks her wrist and releases, sending the card spinning out for roughly three feet then curving sharply to the right as it spins down to the ground.]

Not too bad, not too bad.

[He steps over, picks up her card, and hands it back to her.]

Ain't exactly somethin' you pick up overnight, but you off to a good start.

Acting against gravity is different than working with it. [She takes the card with a nod and tries again, keeping her wrist straight at the release. Not as fast or as accurate as Remy's but this time it flies straight enough to clip the bottom of the ring.]

An' you're still off to a good start.

[That was damn good for a second try, in fact. And since clipping the ring was enough to bend the card past the point that it will fly right, he'll make it his own target practice for cleanup. His card hits it dead center and blows up with it.]

The trick to it is stayin' relaxed. Try not to t'ink too much or you'll jus' psyche yourself out.

The typical mindset I use- used. When performing. Hm. [She focuses on the ring again, remembers how it felt to throw the last card, watches how Remy's wrist and aim is different and lets fly. Still not quite on target, but faster than before. It sails right past the left of the hoop]

[He gives a nod of approval before glancing over at her.]

Performin'?

Years ago, another life Remy. [She chuckles and pulls out a new card, adjusting her aim and momentum. Bit by bit, throw by throw she'd get the hang of aiming them at the very least.]

Dance and music. Predominantly Classical Ballet and Classical Piano. If you think too much, you are stiff, you don't move as you should. But if you just...move. With how you know it should feel? [Another toss, the first to fly dead center through the hoop closest to them.] Then you will perform well.

[Low whistle.] Nice aimin', doc.

[He takes out the second to last card by way of another explosion, before leveling his eye on one of the moving targets he put in the back. It's honestly more of a warm-up than anything, but he still takes it out with another card.]

Seems t'be the trick to jus' about anythin', non? [Not thinking about it too much, he means. He gives her a slight grin.] Y'know, it mighta been another life, but you still got that dance an' music in you.

Something at this distance is not terribly unlike aiming at the firing range. [She doesn't move to the next target until she gets three more cards through the center in a row. It takes her seven throws. Satisfied with her consistency she moves her aim to the next farthest target.]

In some ways? Yes. But in the surgical ward should I have to think. About what is wrong, how it must be fixed, what could go wrong in the middle of surgery...though I don't anymore. As I'm doing now, and have ever done before, I drill. [The first two cards go wide, The third skims along the outside of the further hoop. She readjusts for momentum, the further it is the more difficult to keep the card from slowing.] What is done when, over and over, until I don't truly have to think about it. I just know what to do, when to do it, and how to keep my patients alive.

[After her first solid throw through the middle of the next ring she pauses to rub her wrist and blink at Remy.] ...It never really goes away, I suppose.

[He watches the progress with silent approval, though the description of her surgeon work does make him glance over at her out of the corner of an eye. Once she blinks at him, he chuckles quietly.]

Doc, I'd be real worried if you weren't t'inkin' at all durin' an operation. [Nevermind that operations in general make him incredibly uncomfortable. One run-in with Sinister is all it took to make him skittish of the entire process.] Some professions jus' ain't as friendly on the "don't t'ink about it" t'ing.

I'm not mindless Remy. Just, the mental processes are so familiar, the neural paths so well traveled, it feels like I'm not. Most everything is reflexive. [She continues to massage the wrist of her throwing hand, frowning at the dull beginnings of an ache. She'll have to build these up over time.]

The day I stop actively thinking in a surgical room is the day I get a patient killed. I'd rather not risk it, no matter how mundane the procedure.

[Biting back a remark that the only surgeon he's ever been to definitely wouldn't have cared about patients dying on him, and that Adele is therefore infinitely better than any other surgeon he's ever seen, Remy tosses one last card out to blow up some scattered cards. And pauses, frowning slightly, before shaking his head and turning towards her. His grin is a little forced, but his tone is warm.]

We gonna have to get your wrists more used to this kinda t'ing 'fore we try out the tougher stuff, huh. Here, gimme your hand, I can help.

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