2012-06-24 Gotham Alleyways

After the Bat leaves so abruptly, Huntress wrenches open the door behind Lois, snags the woman by one arm, and yanks her out of the room before any of those mooks stir or those sirens she can already hear get any closer. She pulls the reporter around the corner out of the range of those annoying street lamps and through an almost dizzying maze of alleys and dark side streets before finally stopping in an alleyway behind an Italian restaurant.
"What the HELL is your problem, lady?" are the first words out of her mouth when they stop.
Lois, not completely used to be manhandled in quite this manner, gasps as she yanked, and struggles to keep up with the rat-race in three inch high heels. But keep up she does, and breathlessly she stumbles to lean against a wall. One hand the only thing holding her up, the femme reporter glares up at Huntress, a bit of sweat glistening on her brow. "My problem? You're the one in a sports bra and cape," she retorts between gasping breaths.
Whistling, one pocket of his coat bulging heavily, Gambit is traveling from rooftop to rooftop using his staff as a vaulting pole. It's not always a neat or easy process. Sometimes the gaps are a bit wide, leaving him to figure out the details on the way down. One such leap leaves him clinging to a drain pipe with his feet hanging several stories above the pavement. 
 
"Merde," he mutters under his breath. 
 
Gambit makes a fair bit of noise on his way down, but not as much as the two ladies in the alley below him. He drops the last ten or so feet and lands comfortably on the balls of his feet. "Bonjour," he greets them quite casually, as if he didn't just fall from the sky.
Huntress says, “Yeah, but I don't go traipsing into rooms filled with mooks expecting them to just not notice!" She paces back and forth in front of Lois, three short steps back and forth -- adrenaline from that odd, short little fight still messing with her and making her REALLY want to hit something. Or someone. Maybe this annoying chick who doesn't even realize how close she just was to NOT walking away from that room back there. 
When someone literally just drops in on them, she turns and pulls a crossbow and aims it at the man with the speed of an Old West sharpshooter. And this time her own training isn't enough to stop her from letting a bolt fly at the newcomer.”
The sudden appearance of Gambit does make Lois start in fright, her own adrenaline running high. She presses herself against the wall, eyes going wide as she hears Gambit greet them. No trained fighter, Lois is no where near fast enough to stop Huntress, even if she reaches out to try, calling out with a shrill sort of, "No!" Because Lois knows that Bonjour means hello....
Gambit twists his head to the side in time to avoid being skewered, but the tip of the bolt grazes his cheekbone and draws a single drop of blood. His eyes narrow as he swivels back around to peer at the two women. "Dat was not very nice, chere," he says, lifting a finger to dab at the scratch. "I don' want no trouble wit' you. And I guarantee you don' want no trouble wit' me."
Huntress takes a second to realize that the man truly doesn't mean any harm... of course that doesn't mean she has any intention of apologizing. "You don't want me to skewer you, don't try to sneak up on me," is her snarky reply as she re-holsters her crossbow. Her angry glare switches from Gambit to Lois and back. This entire night has been a frigging MESS.
By the wall, Lois sighs and leans against it, seeming to weakly melt against the brick. What an exciting night, and no tall strong and handsome to fly her away to her balcony so she can swoon at him before a hot bubble bath and bed. Lois, officially, is NOT a fan of Gotham. "I'm not sure I see where you have room to talk," she quips of Huntress before straightening up. "Anyone want to fill me in on what the hell that WAS back there?" Because if Gambit can drop from the sky, he must be a super too, right?
"C'est des conneries," Gambit says, showing off his blood-covered finger and shaking his head. The Cajun is not amused. "All I do is fall off de roof. You mind your manners, mimi. You already shoot poor Gambit." He pauses and coughs into a gloved fist. "I not fall all de way down, tho'. Just... most of de way."
Huntress says, “Back there?" Huntress hooks a thumb generally back in the direction they just came from and gives Lois a look indicating she is now truly convinced that the reporter is a complete ditz. "That was the Bat. And if you don't know who that is, maybe you'd best head back to Metropolis before you get into /real/ trouble." She looks at Gambit again. "Maybe you should stay off the roofs around here. Kind of a flying rodent problem in this area if you get my meaning.”
Lois glares at Huntress, peering at Gambit in complete confusion. Is he even speaking ENGLISH!? "Look, I've heard of the Bat, but what he was doing in that exact place at that exact time is what's got me. You seem to work with him. Why don't you tell me what all those goons were up to?"
Gambit blinks incredulously. He raises his eyebrows and points at the scratch across his cheek. "You don' even apologize? You almost kill me. Mon dieu..." 
 
The thick patois is, of course, not entirely English. It's getting pretty irritated, too. More curses are grumbled out, quietly and mashed together. "Who do you t'ink you are, shootin'... What de hell? A crossbow?"
WHAT?? Work for the BAT? Huntress throws an affronted look at Lois. She does NOT work for Bat. Not now, not EVER. "I have no idea, Skeeter. Why don't you go find him again and ask?" And with that, she turns back to Gambit, crossing her arms. "Yeah it's a crossbow. What of it?" Nope, no apology.
"Fine. I'll go do that, crazy sports bra wearing, arrow shooting, cape-wearing..." Lois retorts, her word turning into grumbles as she turns to make her way to the street. Gambit gets only one more glance. Alright, she's a little sorry for being rude, but this has been one helluva night.
Sadly, Gambit is more concerned with squeezing an apology from his attacker. Crossing his arms as well, he takes a step closer, then another. It's a brash move, one that puts him in easy reach. One side of his mouth tugs upward into a smile, though it's not an easy one to read. "Crossbow is dangerous weapon, p'tit. Maybe I take care of it for you. So you don' hurt nobody else."
Oh, don't even go there, gumbo. Huntress narrows her eyes at Gambit, no longer concerned with Lois. Just one step closer, jackass, and she'll knock you flat on your backside. "Aww, are you worried about little old me?" Then, her expression going flat and dangerous, she mutters in a scathing tone, "Labes populi." Languages, we can do that.
Lois pauses as the measuring contest gets under way, and she sighs softly. A quick look around earns her one foam cup of the 64oz variety in relatively good condition and a spicket. Two items brought together for the most devious of plans. Lois crouches to fill the cup with water. Lalala, nothing to see here.
"You misunderstand. Gambit worried for you, not about you. And your friend, too." The Cajun's lower jaw juts forward stubbornly and the glow in his eyes intensifies. Slowly, purposefully, he takes another step forward, putting him nose-to-nose with his adversary. 
 
"Mmm. You smell nice," he purrrrrs.
Huntress doesn't back away from Gambit, even though she really wants to shove him back and tell him to back off in less polite terms. Instead of recoiling, she simply stays nose-to-nose with the only slightly taller man, her hands on her crossbows so he doesn't try to snake them away. She replies in sultry tones of her own. "You smell like roofing tar."
Lois walks over to the pair standing all but nose to nose, and with her cup in hand she flings the water up at them and toward their faces. "Oh, get a room," she snaps at them. "If you're going to get into a superpowered fist fight here in the alley, at least tell me how to spell your names so when I get back to my hotel room I can correctly spell out how moronic you both are acting."
"Eau de Gambit, chere," he corrects her. His smile widens. Now there's definitely a challenging hint to it. He doesn't give ground either, standing supremely confident; his posture loose and his hands on his hips. "You not even tell me your na--" 
 
When the water hits him, Gambit splutters and chokes like the swamp rat he is. He backpedals and paws at his eyes. "Dis... Dis is terrible," he protests. "You're both crazy. Merde!"
Huntress doesn't have a chance to come up with a snappy retort as she gasps in surprise at the faceful of water, also taking a hasty step back and wiping at her face with one hand. "The hell?" She seems less angry about it than simply surprised, and inwardly she's kind of glad of the interruption. She gets the feeling that a confrontation of this level with gumbo there could only have ended one of two ways.
And either way would have netted Lois Lane a super scoop of Gotham proportions. Lois frowns at them, tired and upset. "I'm not the one with freaky glowing eyes trying to hit on Little Miss Cupid Wanna Be in the most absolutely horrible adbomination of french I have ever heard," she states. "Unless you two are some sort of super villian, which is highly unlikely because even the most ludicrisly stupid of them aren't this dimwitted, you don't want to start a fight which each other in full view of the frakking press, because so help me I will happily drag your shit all over page one of the morning edition!" Tirade done, Lois lets out a sigh, hands on her hips.
Dripping, bloodied, and generally feeling wronged, Gambit pokes his bottom lip out a fraction. Now that the initial shock has worn off, he looks an awful lot like a grumpy, partly drowned cat. "You ruined it," he accuses Lois. Then he shakes his head, sending water flying in all directions. "Woof. Who de hell are you people, anyway?"
Huntress turns a glare at Lois, her threat NOT going over well. She's THIS close to telling them both to piss off and then getting the bleep out of here with a zipline. But then Gambit shakes water everywhere like a damned spaniel and she does recoil this time. "Augh! Damnit! Who the hell are YOU two? I'm not local here."
Lois flinches at the water droplets spraying everyone. "Ah! Yuck!" she grumbles aloud, rubbing the moisture away as best she can. When Huntress calls for introductions, Lois pulls herself to her very unimpressive height, folds her arms over her chest and states firmly, "Lois Lane, Ace Reporter, Daily Planet, Metropolis. And you two are...?"
"Leaving," Gambit replies, though he's only speaking for himself. Clearly, he's heard all he needs to. His gaze shifts from one woman to other and he gives his head a final shake. Then he turns to make good on his word, clutching his coat closer and snorting out a bemused laugh as he heads out of the alley.
Huntress says, "Likewise." She swaps out the bolts in one of her crossbows then aims it up at the rooftops. "Ms. Lane, I strongly recommend you get back to Metropolis as soon as you can." Then she fires off the zipline bolt and does a passably good imitation of one of the Bat's departures up toward the rooftops.
"Well, that was a colossal waste of time," Lois quips, turning on her heel and heading to her hotel room. Tomorrow, first flight HOME!
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