[Skull's Rainbow Room, Nashville, TN] Good and Gone

Remy glances down at the bill on the table, for a moment realizing that she beat him to it. As her words hit him along with that little 'baby', he feels just a hint of heat crawling up the back of his neck and out from the edges of his collar. He can't hide it or control the reaction.

"Hell? You? I would neva even consider is, cher."

He still has that grin as he leads the way through the crowd, mindful to make sure that she doesn't run into any issues on the way. It's natural for him to act the gentleman even when he's had more than a little liquor in his system. The air outside the bar is still warm and full of chatter. Using his height to his advantage, Remy scans the street before his eyes land on a gathering crowd near a park.

"Aight, Des. Ya ready for dancin out on the grass with red solo cups 'n terrible country music?" He turns back down to her with joy curling his lips and excitement warming his gaze.

He offers his hand even as he starts to take a step back, into the street. There's not an ounce of concern for traffic as the cars are nearly back to back with the sheer amount of people out on the prowl. Remy finds himself wanting to show the woman a good time, to prove to her that she's correct to follow him. Even if it is only for a dance.

"Lay yer trust on ol Remy, ya?" His tone is warm and lined with amusement. That melts as he looks down at her and he speaks with that soft confidence one hopes to hear from a person they've put their faith into. "Won't let nothin happen to ya, Desiree. Come with me."

Remy takes another step, still waiting for her. With the sea parted just a little, it would be easy for Des to see the part across and further up the street from them. Even with all its pride and love of Jazz, Nashville finds itself bending to the country adoration of the Southerners all around them. It's clear almost immediately just why Remy would be drawn to that crowd for a dance with a pretty lady.

Remy hadn't been sure what to expect. As his eyes fall to the delicate hand resting in his, he feels her power flow into him like an endless river of light. It washes him in clarity and that is what keeps him from putting both boots in his mouth. An answer to his issues with Rogue tickles at the back of his mind. It is a hint. A mere whisper on the wind.

Calloused fingers curl over the edges of her hand as Remy gently pulls her down into the street with him. His other hand comes out in case she needs it to balance. Remy's lips purse with her question before bleeding into a playful smirk. "Cher, ya ain't shown me nothin I can't handle. If that's yer goal, you outta crank it a notch."

He ends his good-natured tease with a wink. When she is down with him, Remy is quick to turn and head the way through the street. He always has an eye out for Des as they go, keeping her hand in his as he leads the way. The closer they draw to the park, the louder the country music becomes, drowning out any of the jazz coming from the bars all around.

A glance further down the road shows a neon sign for nearly every building going from Jack's Bar-B-Que to Robert's Honky Tonk Grill, and even a place calling itself the Second Fiddle. This is clearly a place where Remy would find comfort and a shred of home.

"Bon Dieu! Now, this, is a good time," he tells her with a bright, proud grin as he turns to walk backward a step. Remy reaches out for her other hand as they push further into the crowd. He draws her closer to him, leading her hand up to rest on his chest. "Ya know how to dance, Desiree?"

Des slips from his hands, backing into the crowd around them and taunting him. For a moment, he's struck by just how different she is from his other encounters. How different she is from his Rogue. Even when they were dancing, they had never pulled away from each other. There was always a hand or a hip lingering against the other.

Perhaps it was just because they could never actually touch, but she had never pulled away from him. Des tucks her glasses into her bag and all he can think about is the curl of Rogue's smile. The feeling of her glove over his lips as she kisses the back of her hand. The scent of her hair as she hugged him, tucking her face into his neck where they both knew she was safe.

Remy looks at her two extended hands and all he can see is that damn tarot card. The way he and Rogue held up that chalice, united despite everything. He can hear Dr. Brooks in his head, telling him how much that his queen loves him.

An apologetic smile slips onto his face as he looks into Des' eyes. It's his moment of clarity. The second that he lets her power fill his head with the answers he needs. Remy has to set his out in order.

"Sorry bout this, darlin. I'll owe ya one."

He doesn't give her the chance to pull him back, spinning on his heel and pushing through the crowd as much as he can. He's not far from New Orleans. He's not far from getting that divorce. A little more and maybe, just maybe, he can still win his love.