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The bar ireland was full of life that night, people were dancing and singing, the 'band' were playing The Script songs and the entire bar sang along. The men were looking for a fight, and the women were looking for a man. But most importantly, the poor were looking to become rich, and the rich didn't know they were about to become poor. It wasn't a den of thieves, even if the man in the center of it sure was used to those. It was a backroom poker table. One man was always winning.

With his dark hair hanging over his face, the rough scruff of facial hair on his face, and those unnaturally piercing eyes with their freakish black and red color. His accent made him stick out like a sore thumb in the bar, while beating the rich, and folding to the poor. He used to be a hero, one of the best. He had saved the world more times than he could count - then again, he had also endangered it as many.

He held a queen and a ace in his hand. By the look of the shaky old farmer opposite him, he had terrible cards. Remy smiled. "All 'n." He said, he wanted to see what mettle the old man was made off. The farmer looked the Cajun in the eye as he shakily put his cards down, and pushed all of his markers into the middle. "A-All in." It was all of his savings, the man's farm had been having bad crops and the cattle had been dying, this was all he had left. Remy smiled. "I fold."

Ordering in another glass of whiskey from the cute waitress, he watched as the farmer thanked him as he got all of his markers, having more than doubled his savings, the old man could safely retire and still take care of his family. He might not be stopping robbers and terrorists anymore, but the mutant could still be [i]someone's[/i] hero.
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