Chapter Three
"GOSH DARN IT!" Bobby tried to swear as the screech of tyres on gravel cut through his concentration and Bash Possum plunged helplessly into the deep pit. The machine played an absurdly jaunty tune to mark the occasion, and he threw down his controller in a fit of anger. He had been stuck for hours on this stage and the end of the level had finally been in sight too. He could see its marker bobbing mockingly in the distance, right below the floating Game Over.
There was only one person who could have been that inconsiderate, that stupid, that downright JERKY...
"REMY!" he screeched as he stomped down the stairs and threw open the door, "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
The person standing there was decidedly not Gambit, unless the Cajun had had a sex-change operation of which Iceman was unaware. He shuddered at the idea, then stopped thinking all together when he got a better look at her. She was tall and blonde with the sort of body that he thought only existed in girlie magazines and even then was the product of photomanipulation. Her dress suggested that that might be what she did for a living.
"Hey, hot mama," he said in his best Austin-Powers-meets-Johnny-Bravo voice.
She raised an eyebrow, "Hey, cool cat."
Iceman was surprised and gratified. He had spoken to her for two seconds and she had not slapped him\kicked him\kneed him\poured her drink over his head\thrown him into a tank of live lobsters. His libido launched into the Bash Possum victory jingle. Clearly, she was into him.
Emboldened by his success, he ventured his favourite line: "Are those moonpants because your butt is out of this world?"
Looking him up and down with a significant smirk on her face, "No, but I'm sure you could take me there. You certainly have a large enough ... rocket, don't you?"
Bobby went crimson, stuffing his hands over his mouth to keep himself from giggling like a schoolgirl. Women were not meant to know single-entendres. They were not meant to say things like that. They were meant to smile and dimple coyly, not openly admire his ... well, his ... his!
She laughed at his embarrassment, "Poor baby. Anyway, I'd love to ... chat with you, but I have to see Remy tout suite."
Bobby felt his heart plummet like Bash Possum. Of course, she was here to see Gambit. All hot chicks were always here to see Gambit. They might as well install a neon sign. "If you're a hot chick, go upstairs and turn right to see Gambit." What was it with that guy? What did he have that Bobby didn't have, apart from looks, charm, exquisite dress-sense, permanently good hair and a bad boy\little boy lost appeal? And Rogue. What was up with Remy seeing other, hot chicks when he had just gotten back together with Rogue? All in all, he would never get what women saw in LeJerk LeBeau.
"Come on in," he mumbled, "I'll fetch him for you."
Continued in Chapter 4
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