Lifting her head from her novel, Rogue glanced over to where her husband was absorbed in reading a sheaf of papers of his own and raised an amused eyebrow. Her first thought on seeing him was as unprintable in any G-Rated fanfiction as always. Remy was never particularly hard on the eye, although she would never have told him so on the principle that a wife's duty was to prick her man's ego whenever she could, but he was especially gorgeous when he was concentrating. A slight furrow developed between his eyes, while his tongue protruded a fraction from his mouth in an almost child-like manner. On occasion, his nose would wrinkle slightly, although he had denied it fervently when she had pointed it out to him. Apart from that twitch, he could remain seated for hours without moving, poring over blueprints and schematics as he planned his pinches.

She smiled wryly. If the movies and novels were to be believed, being a thief required little more than a fondness for the colour black and an array of gadgetry that could counter everything from locks to alsatians. esearch -- weeks spent in dusty archives and libraries sorting through dusty papers -- was not glamourous, and nor was hours spent repeatedly tracing every detail of the job from beginning to end. In their years of marriage, she had come to learn that a successful thief was an anally retentive thief and Remy took the prize for that.

"Who is going t'wake up a million dollars poorer tomorrow, hon?"

"Gospel truth, cherie? I wish I was plannin' a pinch at de moment," he grinned sheepishly at her, holding out a sheet of paper, "Be easier dan tryin' t'remember all 251 of dese little buggers."

Quirking a curious eyebrow, she stretched out an arm to take the page from him. On it was drawn an animal that she suspected was the result of an unlikely romance between a Visigoth and a kangaroo. It certainly had got the least attractive features of both its parents. Large, brown and ugly, it had a helmet on its head and a joey peeking from its pouch. It was unmistakably a Pokemon and the word 'Kangaskhan' was printed beneath it in Remy's precise handwriting.

"Best o' luck," she chuckled in amusement, "I hear tell it's almost impossible for anyone over th' age of thirteen ta do, just like it's impossible for any man married more'n five years t'remember his weddin' anniversary."

His voice held a note of mock reproach, his smile was teasing, "What? Me forget de day dat I gave up m'freedom in exchange for a screechin' harpy of a wife? Never."

She sniffed, "See if this harpy of a wife helps you learn them now. Umm, why are y'learning them anyway? Ah know some of those cards are pretty valuable, but . . . ."

"I want t'have a sensible conversation with our son again," Remy replied with a grin, "All Luc talks about is Pokemon, an' I get lost somewhere between de Pikachus and de Squirtles," he paused, scanning the sheet in front of him, "Still, I t'ink I got dem all memorised now. Just have t'pass de Luc litmus test . . . . Lemme go and show off t'him now."

Shaking her head, she laid aside her novel and followed him down the stairs to the den. There were some things that were too priceless to miss, and her ever-so-suave, ever-so-charming husband trying desperately to remember the names of 251 Pokemon was one of them. She was not sure which would be funnier: his look of smug pride when he got them all correct or his absolute devestation when he missed one.

As she had expected, Luc was sprawled across the floor, chin in his heads, eyes intently fixed on the television. On the screen, a group of children were walking past a row of telephone boxes on a beach. One of them had a pair of goggles over brown hair that would have put Wolverine's to shame, while another was wearing a pink, cowboy hat and fringed dress. Madonna had a lot to answer for, Rogue thought with a smile. They were followed by what appeared to be a group of small, obscenely cute monsters. An orange batpig and a green plant with wilted petals were the two she noticed at first glance.

"What are ya watchin', baby?" she asked as she slipped down beside him.

"Momma! You won't believe it, but . . . there's another show that's just as cool as Pokemon! It's about this group of kids who were sucked up through a hole in the sky and ended up in this weird world where they met these weird monsters who can digivolve into other monsters and that orange, flying one's Patamon and he's my favourite although I also like Agumon who can shoot fire and Agumon is Tai's Digimon and Tai is so cool . . ." Luc paused in his excited babble to suck in breath, "I'm going to watch it every single day and . . . daddy, will you buy me the action figures when they come out?"

Remy, who had gone perceptibly pale, said weakly: "Sure, petit. Whatever ya want."

Chuckling, she patted the spot on the floor beside her: "Come watch, LeBeau. You've got a lot of learnin' ahead of you. Batpig is Patamon. Charmander-wannabe is Agumon. You'll pick up the rest in time."

"Sure, petite."

___________________________

THE END . . . OR IS IT?