Confrontation
A sequel to "Exposé"
 

"I'd rather be alone, Wolverine," Gambit said.

"Bullshit, Cajun. We gotta talk."

"Dey ain't nothin' to talk about."

Wolverine grabbed him by the collar and slammed the tall young man
against the wall of the corridor. "I think there is. I want names,
all of `em. Who…who used you?"

Gambit smiled darkly. "Firs' rule of sellin' y'self: Don' ask for
names. Don' look straight at `em, either."

To Remy's shock, the fierce little Canadian seemed suddenly to be
fighting back tears. "How…how could you do it? How could you
survive that…that kind of life?"

"You goin' weak sister on me, Wolverine? What'chu care, anyway? You
been t'rough some rough shit, and you don' cry `bout it. Why you so
damn worried `bout Gambit?"

"I just…I don't like the idea of kids bein' used like that." Logan
let go of the Cajun's shirt and Remy smoothed himself out, even
passing a hand through his hair. He was rattled more by the
Canadian's reaction than he had initially been by the memories that
rotten painting had brought back. He kept his face carefully,
studiously neutral.

"If you'll es'cuse me, Logan," he said, and walked away, more than
half expecting to be grabbed again, maybe this time with claws out.

But Logan let him go. He stood in the middle of the corridor and
watched him walk away. He couldn't explain his feelings even to
himself, but something about the idea of someone forcing themselves
on that kid, an even younger and more defenseless version, sickened,
angered, and saddened him all at once. Even though he respected his
teammate's abilities as a fighter, he still felt that he was far too
young to know so much about the dark underbelly of life, and to know
that he had been taught in that school from so early an age pushed
him dangerously close to going feral. He had to get his feelings
under control.

He turned down the corridor to the men's quarters with the lingering
scent of the Cajun in his nostrils, a warm, slightly spicy smell
(although nothing at all, in spite of what he always claimed, like
gumbo). Every time he smelled the kid's scent it reminded him of
sex, which was not what he wanted to think about right now. He
closed the door to his room and locked it behind him.

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Mac O'Roni

"After all dis time--an' I still manage to impress myself."

-Gambit, Uncanny X-Men #312
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