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Warren Worthington III did not like Gambit. The southern mutant was loud, arrogant, selfish, narcissistic- Warren could think of a thousand different words to describe him and never run out of comparisons.
Religious was not one that had even once crossed his mind.
……………………………
The mansion had a chapel - technically it had everything, but the chapel was Warren’s current concern - and most of the time, the only person who ever visited the chapel was Warren.
So you can understand his surprise, confusion - frustration, anger, irritation, et cetera - when he stepped into the sacred space for his morning prayer, only to find one incredibly annoying cajun already there.
“Don’ mind Remy, feat’ers.” The southerner turned around to smile, wearing those stupid sunglasses that Warren found useless in doors. “Be done soon.”
Warren ignored him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded instead.
The southerner’s grin widened. “What’s’it look like, homme ?” he asked. “Remy prayin’.”
“You’re not religious.”
The other mutant let out an unflattering scoff. “Like you know,” he muttered, though his shoulders jumped and he instantly winced afterwards before mumbling, “ pardon .”
Warren stared at him. “What are you doing in here, Gambit?” he asked again.
“I told’you.”
“And I didn’t believe you.”
Remy sighed, hanging his head for a moment before lifting it up and shifting in the pew to sling his arm over the back of it and turning to face Warren.
“Den why you askin’?” When Warren didn’t immediately reply, Remy went on. “Why keep askin’ if you ain’t gonna b’leieve Remy when he tell you da truth, hm?”
“You’re a liar and a thief, I’d be surprised if anything you’ve said in your life was true.”
Remy hummed quietly for a moment. “El diablo blanc,” he finally remarked.
Warren blinked. “What?”
“Dats what Remy got called, as a chile,” Remy explained. “Means da white devil.” he tapped the corner of his eyes, behind the glasses Warren had only ever seen him wear a few times but had never been able to figure out why, especially since the other often wore them indoors.
“I’m not following.”
“Course y’ not,” Remy casually informed him. “Cause y’not listenin’.”
“Say something interesting and maybe I’ll start.”
Remy chuckled lightly. “When Remy was born, his mutation was evident from da start.” He dipped his head forward, eyeing Warren over the top of his sunglasses. “So he was abandoned.” He straightened up, crossing one leg over to the other to rest his ankle on the opposite knee, shifting his sunglasses off his nose and on top of his head. “Grew up on da streets where he learned t’steal t’survive.”
“What does this have to do with…” Warren gestured at the room, still refusing to associate the word ‘religion’ with Remy Lebeau.
“Got taken in by a coupl’a fat’ers of da church, when Remy was six,” Remy replied. “Data when dey name him ‘el diablo blanc’.” Remy shifted, gazing flicking away from the winged mutant as he quietly murmured, “Dey didn’ take too kindly t’Remy.”
Warren didn’t know what to say to that. “I don’t understand,” he finally managed. But that wasn’t true, because he was starting to get a very bad idea of what the other mutant was talking about.
“Dey tol’ Remy dat one day, God would send an angel to judge him,” Remy began. “Until den, dey would do Heaven’s work to ensure they cleansed da evil from him.”
“They hurt you.”
“Dey did more dan just hurt Remy, mon ami,” Remy corrected. He shifted on the pew. “Remy got out a year later. Got taken in by da guild.”
“Yeah.”
“Few years go by, but Remy never forget what dey teach him,” the southerner went on. “He pray every day, try ta earn f’giveness from Heaven b’fore dey send da angel t’ judge ‘im.” Remy avoided Warren’s gaze then, instead focusing on the other’s wings, as he softly remarked, “And den Remy meet you . You who call yourself Angel and you who hate Remy so damn much.” Remy flashed Warren a smile, but one that was filled with self-loathing and hatred and - though the emotion was terrifying for Warren to identify - fear .
Warren swallowed thickly. “I’m not a real angel,” he finally managed.
Remy chuckled. “You t’ink Remy don’ know dat?” he asked. He shrugged. “Remy’s knows dat now.”
“But you thought I was a real angel when we met.”
Remy tilted his head to the side. “Can y’blame ‘im, homme?” he asked casually. “Y’got da name and da wings, what else was Remy s’pposed t’assume?”
Warren shrugged weakly, hesitating a moment before slowly walking forward and taking a seat in the pew behind the one Remy was seated on.
“I…” he hesitated, searching for the word. “I’m sorry,” He finally settled on.
Remy blinked. “ Pourquoi? ” he asked.
“You thought I was a real angel, sent down from Heaven to judge you,” Warren replied. “And I...didn’t do anything to disabuse you of that thought.” He hesitated again. “All I did was make it worse.”
Remy only shrugged. “Not like Remy was doin’ much t’deserve a proper judgement,” he remarked. “Or a good one.”
“You don’t deserve to go to Hell.”
Remy chuckled fondly, shaking his head. “Remy knows a few priests down in N’awlins who’d disagree.”
“Well, introduce me to them and I’ll set them straight.”
Remy grinned. “ça ira ,” he agreed.
Warren was quiet again, for a few moments. “You hang out with Rogue a lot,” he finally remarked. “Does...she know about any of that?”
“Non.”
“Does anyone?”
Remy hesitated a moment. “Non,” he repeated. “You da first soul Remy ever told.”
“You didn’t even tell the...thieves who took you in?”
Remy smiled, shaking his head. “Mon pere wouldn’t’ve ever f’given himself f’not findin’ Remy sooner, iffin he’d known.” After a moment of thought, the southerner added. “And he’d prob’ly try’n find da priests ‘n’ teach ‘em what for.”
Warren chuckled. “Oh, so would I,” he agreed. Remy smiled back but Warren’s own enthusiasm fell slightly. “I can’t say I magically like you now,” he remarked. “But...I think I understand you a little bit better.”
Remy tilted his head to the side. “D’accord,” he replied. After a brief moment of awkward silence between the two, Remy stood and gave the winged mutant a sweeping bow. “All yours, homme,” he remarked, gesturing to the chapel at large before slipping swiftly down the aisle and out of the room.
Warren sat alone for a few moments before finally standing and following suit.
After that conversation, he didn’t feel like praying anymore.