Means to an end. Remy LeBeau had always doubted whether anyone knew that sex was merely that, that violence was merely that, that skill itself was merely that. The means to an end, counting cards in a game where he knew all the hands.
LeBeau—the survivor under the mask—did not care. He put on the smile, the flippant remarks, shuffled his cards like it was all a game (he only played when the stakes were high), and let them frown and forget to guess at what was really going on.
Death, Marauder, X-Man...
They never saw the end.
LeBeau—the survivor under the mask—did not care. He put on the smile, the flippant remarks, shuffled his cards like it was all a game (he only played when the stakes were high), and let them frown and forget to guess at what was really going on.
Death, Marauder, X-Man...
They never saw the end.
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