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There were times when he truly hated her, hated her for everything she had done to him and how she had treated him.
He hated her for leaving him to die after his "trial". He hated her for whispering words of love into his ear but then not standing behind what she had to say to him, the hate grew every day. Every time he heard her honeyed voice murmuring in his ear, the memories a little too much to escape.
Closing his eyes he tilted his head back, draining the alcohol from the bottle clasped in one of his gloved hands, his throat working over time.
"You smell like a brewery and a half bub," Logan's voice rumbled. It didn't sound anything like Rogue's and at the moment the Cajun appreciated it more than ever.
"You leave dis Cajun alone mon amis," Gambit dragged himself to his feet, swaying back and forth he tossed the bottle at Logan without charging it. Truth was he wasn't even sure he had the capacity to charge anything at the moment. "Oh no dat was dis man's last bottle, you got another one Logan?" He grinned, sidling up alongside the Wolverine, his teeth bared in a grin.
Logan snorted, inhaling he closed his eyes for a moment.
Beyond the alcohol there was something else, something more that he didn't really know how to comprehend.
Pain.
It had always been there before with Gambit, but never like this. This was an internalized pain, he stank of it.
"Let's get you inside Gumbo," Logan slipped his arm around Gambit's waist and turned toward the mansion, surprised when the younger man began rapidly shaking his head.
"Non mon ami, I am not going in dere, I refuse, dis Cajun ain't stupid. He knows where he's not wanted, he can feel it and no one wants him in dat house," Gambit practically babbled, tears prickling his eyes once again.
"Can I stay wit you?" He asked, turning to look at Wolverine. "Please Logan, I won't make a mess, I'll clean up after myself." His speech had cleared slightly, become a little bit more proper, but Logan wasn't truly surprised because he knew it was partially an act or a bit like a comforting blanket, something he could hide behind.
Sighing Logan nodded, "Fine but if you make a mess you're in the dog house Remy."
"Remy's name sounds so good on those lips mon ami," he seemed to snuggle into Logan's side, causing the older man to smirk.
He could only wonder what the Cajun would think about this come morning, or rather after a good night's sleep and a couple dozen cups of coffee.