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. #risedialogue - #15 ft. Black Widow . His footsteps patterned faintly against the concrete. . ᴊᴜs' ᴀ ʟɪʟ' ғᴀʀᴛʜᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴍʏ. . Heavy breaths panted from his chest, his jacket a tail in the breeze behind him. . ᴀ ғᴇᴡ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ғᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɴ' ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅᴇʀᴇ... . He skidded to a stop, the forward momentum nearly carrying him forward. A black suited figure stood poised in front of the Cajun, the metallic weight in her hand catching the man’s crimson gaze. . ᴍᴇʀᴅᴇ. . “Give me the briefcase, Gambit.” Her voice rung with authority: demanding, not asking, for that in which she desired. The mutant chuckled lightly, standing tall in his limber frame. He shadowed over the smaller Black Widow, a fake illusion as to who would win in a hand to hand fight. Remy pulled a silver glinting stick from his coat; a flick of the wrist and it had extended to a full length bō staff. “Ah c’mon, petite. Can’t we settle dis like allies?” The mutant relaxed in his muscles, taking a few cautious steps towards the female. “Surely...” His voice lowered to a whisper, “...we can work out a deal, non?” Gambit’s crimson eyes hinted at something dangerous. The Cajun charmer dripped his words with honey, weaving his aura with that of charisma and persuasion. But in nature, it is the female Black Widow that bests the male. She didn’t hesitate with her answer. A single kick sent the thief flying, landing with an unpleasant skid on the pavement. Her steps clicked as she approached him, leaning down to collect the case. A shoed toe pressed painfully into the mutant’s chest. His eyes following the length of the leg to face the barrel of a gun. The safety clicked off. .