"I will blame your part animal senses for not saying I smell amazing. You part animal types usually get their tails in a twist all up when I am around. Normal animals too." Nodding to him about the ass part it was true and nobody ever complained to her about it within earshot if they were remotely sane. "Just the right amount of cushion I've been told." Smirking at him and her eyes lit up a bit. 

"Moonshine? Why if your offering I am certainly not turning it down. Good moonshine is divine." Not really having the heart to tell him she can't get drunk in the normal sense of the word. He wasn't even the least bit stingy either! Picking it up she swirled the glass some to check clarity and sniff it before taking a healthy sip she swirled around some with the most contented looking face he had seen on her so far before swallowing. Not a single wince present. "That is some good shit. To new friends!" Toasting before taking a smaller sip. 

"Pffft, been dancing since i was a kid. Dad thought i s was weird to have a girl more interested in guns and training and wanted to balance it out a bit. Been dancing ever since. Great exercise and makes it easy to get laid when everyone is staring at your bouncing breasts and shaking ass." Grinning at him in a more generous manner then she usually did. "Why you think you can teach me something?"

"Can't say I'm surprised that animals get weirded out, ya got no heart yet yer movin' around 'n ya just smell off. Like...dirt meybbe." Des explained as best he could to why he wasn't going to go effusively explain why she smelled great. She no longer smelled of a days old corpse and that's what mattered the most. "I was told by my team once that I had tha ass that America deserved. That was after we stole a bunch o' booze from an enemy stronghold 'n I stripper climbed a flag pole ta steal their flag. But yer ass beats my bubble butt anyday."

"'s inspired by Moroccan mint tea. My cousin on my papa's side has an illegal distillery 'n he makes it fer my 'um. I might've taken a few bottles before I left." Des explained as he took a swig from his own glass. It was a shame that Remy couldn't get drunk, being drunk helped dull a lot of things when it needed to be dulled and to lose that escape was a tragedy. Sitting on his bed and relaxing Des took another swig.

"Used ta compete before I went inta tha service 'b I used ta perform too. Ballet, ballroom, 'n pole are my specialties, though I can do a bit o' hip hop 'n tap. My parents took an overactive child 'n placed him in dance ta give me a chance ta constructively work tha energy out. Even went ta a performin' arts highschool ta better fit my gayness." Des explained with a happy grin of his own. He loved dancing, breathed it, and there was rarely a day that went by that Des didn't dance in some capacity. He didn't care how much a stereotype it made him, he would flip anyone off who looked down on him for it.

"That's it we're goin' dancin'. 'cause I'm a cat, a kitty cat, 'n I dance, dance, dance, 'n I dance, dance, dance." He half sung, swinging his arms out in parody of the old meme. There was more life to him now that he knew he was going to dance with someone competent. It had been weeks since he'd had a partner and his ballroom was getting 'rusty' so to speak. Draining his glass in one fell swoop he stood up, offering his hand out to her graciously. "Shall we go sugar biscuit? We need ta get ya better clothes if we're gonna show off that fabulous body o' yers."

"Always going to be a lingering sense of the dead, just in my nature now" Laughing took way too much coordination and effort to pull off correctly so she just flashed him another grin. "You may be as gay as the day is long, but you recognize a girls assets in the manner they deserve so I guess I can keep you around a bit longer. For a guy your's is grade A beef." Shooting a much deserved wink at him.

"Ahhh thought it tasted familiar. The best stuff is always illegal it seems like. No government oversight to but a damper on the creative process or something." Speaking of liquid perfection she took a sip and swished iit around in her mouth again. 

"Eh, never competed. Dancing started out as just a more 'girly' hobby then it turned into something for me to get out all the typical teenage angst everyone goes through when they are figuring themselves out. Pole dancing? Maybe you could teach me a few things." Shaking her head a bir, more than a little amused. "Never went to a professional school or nothin' like that, but I figure I can't be half bad if I have outdanced more than my fair share over the last couple of decade." 

As he memed it up her face smacked into her forehead yeah that was a drain the glass worthy moment if she had anything to say about it. Seemed almost a waste, but it was delicious. "Sure we can go dancin, but don't expect me to be wearing a dress. I only dress two ways kitcat. Tactical and comfortable." Giving him another wink before heading for the old clothes and stuffing them carefully into the garbage and wrapping it up. After extracting her pistol and hiding it in her much tightened up waistband. Her legs and hips moving at a natural alluring saunter. It was hard to make sweatpants look good, but she was trying her damndest. 

"Well he only sells it ta people who won't rat him out 'n gifts it ta family. If ya got a flavor yer itchin' fer tell me 'n I'll pass it along. Won't be free like this stuff but it'll be worth it." Just because she was a friend didn't mean she'd get everything for free. It was a privilege in itself that he was willing to pass along a booze request to Bobby. She wouldn't rat Bobby out though, not if her earlier actions spoke of her nature at all.

"'s hard but 's fun. Don't mind teachin' ya anythin' ya wanna learn dance wise. That's how I've been supportin' myself since I left tha service a year ago. Dance instruction not strippin', sadly where I come from I'd starve if I had ta make a livin' off of strippin'." Des said mournfully. It'd be easy to take his clothes off and just dance for money but alas his catlike features tended to turn people away rather than towards him despite his handsome features. "We'll see if ya can keep up with me." It wasn't an empty boast to say he was fantastic. He'd travelled the States and Internationally to compete and had been performing in ballet almost as soon as he had started.

The large man was graceful in a predatory way. His movements exuded lethal power in a controlled way. His body was a weapon, a finely honed weapon. "Well let's get ya comfy fer dancin' 'cause I plan ta get ya hot 'n sweaty by tha time this night is over." He playfully swatted her shoulder as he let her take the garbage bag out. No way was he going to be sleeping in a room with that sort of stench if he could help it. Sometimes sleeping next to dead things was an unavoidable happenstance, but he could at least be free of the dead people juice.

"Gonna have ta google a club. Any particular kind o' dancin' ya want or are ya gonna let me choose?"

"Whatever he's got on tap is fine with me. Going to haveta wait till i get set up a bit here in town. So probably stuck with the run of the mill stuff for a bit." Shrugging and moving on. Great booze was hard to find, but cash opportunities were harder. She idly wondered if she should bother getting a current identity. Most people didn't care if a hired gun was an illegal as long as they did their job. 

"I like to keep a low profile since im technically dead and all , but wouldn't mind learning some more formal dances. Could be useful for blending in if I get invited to a hoity toity job as a bodyguard." Then she'd have to wear something normal. The horror. "Your hometowns a real charming place then. A gasoline paint job might improve the surroundings then eh?" Ignoring his jibe about keeping up and instead shooting him a predatory grin and a shrug with a idle wave of her hand. 

"Better not let me down otherwise I can think of some creative uses for your body." Her shoulder was solid and actually fairly warm from the scalding hot shower still. "Big strong strapping men are supposed to take out the garbage. It's 'the rule' gotta make you feel useful somehow. Go ahead and call a ride too while you're at it. Always more fun to fight people on their home territory and win." A grave tone indicating she didn't just mean about dancing either. "Speaking of..."

Her course diverted her to the front desk and her hand smacked on the bell in rapid morse code, her favorite four letter word followed by 'you' the manager stalked out then blanched at the sight of Remy eyebrows high and more then a little smug with the tiniest curl of a smile on her lips. "C-can I help you?" Remy waited until he was fully behind desk before she launched herself on top of it. Legs pulling him in and trapping him like a spider, whispered something in his ear that made him turn even more white and gave him a quick pat on the face. Mission accomplished she backrolled off the counter and pushed off with her hands to land on her feet looking pleased with herself. 

"So where we going?"

"I can do that. Despite tha accent 'n all I can blend in with high society. Gotta learn fancy life stuff if ya go ta fancy ballroom competitions." Knowing how to act in formal settings was a skill that Des didn't apply very often. He was more likely to be found in some dive bar drinking the local special than he was sipping champagne and eating caviar. Which was a favorite of his he had to guiltily admit. Fish anything was soooo tempting to just smell and eat. Tuna heads were especially good and he vaguely wondered if he could find a good Japanese restaurant to enjoy one at.

"It might. Just don't kill anyone in my family, I like them. They don't judge me on my looks just on tha stupid shit I pull." There had been many times when he'd gotten looks from his family but it was never in conjunction with his visible mutation. His invisible mutation did receive annoyed groans when he employed it at times and had lost his clothing. Good thing he'd learned how to take his clothes with him into his ghost zone. Running around naked in combat situations got real old real fast.

Desire snorted at Remy, knowing she meant it probably in a deadly way. It was nice to touch her, a warm body was always something Des rarely got to encounter unless he was actively in a hostile situation. His new friend was turning out to be awesome. Who knew he could find such sheer fuck it all attitudes in anyone now a days. It was comforting to know that she cared more about his sass than his tabby striped ass. "They won't know what hit 'em sugar biscuit." He said as he began to scroll through dance club listings. Aha! Latin style would be perfect for them both, a good way to blow off steam and probably get at least Remy laid. Her grave tone did nothing to phase him, he knew that winning on enemy territory was a rush in and of itself. If he focused on this like a mission it'd have more chance of succeeding.

Quirking an eyebrow at the morse code Des stood idly by as he dialled up a cab. This was far easier to do than trying to hail a taxi in his experience. He didn't even startle when she hopped onto the desk and trapped the manager like a spider. A small part of him found vicious glee in the fact that she was whispering very creative threats to the manager.

"Latin dance club, figure ya can shake yer tits 'n ass as much as ya want there." He said with a grin.

"Like which spoons and forks to use and when." She muttered particularly amused. The vivid imagery of Des in a flamboyant colored tuxedo was almost worth going through the effort to laugh. High society events were always so boring. All the guys in black and all the women in whatever they thought their bodies could get away with and were always in varying shades of incorrect. 

"Eh I promise to try not too. If their name comes up on a hit list.. suppose I could give them some fair warning." That was honestly the best she could and would do. She didn't feel like going in depth to all the ins and outs of her particular curse or mutation, whatever you called it, at this moment in time, if ever.

As she settled the account with the green looking manager her eyebrows perked and she gave an approving nod. "Perfect, I can wear my usual and we'll get you a Carlos and me a Clarita." Hmphing in amusement at herself as she crossed her arms over her chest and under her breasts and waited in practiced, quiet but irritated patience. The irritation was mostly at being in public in sweatpants of all things. Despite that her body was eerily, unnaturally still even. No usual rhythmic breathing from her chest or involuntary twitches of muscle. Just a constant low level combat alertness as her head and eyes swiveled slow and in deceptive casualness. Finally she inhaled slowly, a sure sign she was about to speak until she reprogrammed herself to look natural, again.

"Have to pick up a cheap phone in chinatown too I guess. Then you can give me your number and be forever cursed by my presence." Grateful when the cab pulled up and practically threw herself towards it, clambering in and waiting for him to get in to speak. "Chinatown." She threw at the cabbie in her usual no bullshit tone.

"'n how not ta embarrass yer country in front o' tha Ruskies." Russians were probably one of the worst in Des' opinion when it came to manners in general. The international dance competitions had had tons of them in his day and he'd just wanted to take the sticks out of their asses and beat them to death with them. His dislike of Russians had only grown when he'd been captured as a SEAL and now...let's just say it was better if Des AVOIDED them.

"I'll try ta stop ya then but that's fer an unlikely future. Only Job is in tha military right now 'n he's off active duty." Des shrugged not wanting to start a fight that he might lose with his new friend. Dead people were incredibly hard to take down in his estimation and she acted like she was invincible. Which depending on her mutation she could be. He wasn't about to pry.

"Ya figure I can find someone ta test my flexibility out on?" The question was genuine because he hadn't been aiming for a gay bar just a dance one. Though if he thought about it gays did tend to flock to the dance bars like moths to flames. So there was a possibility that she'd be able to find a gay guy who'd want a fling with a neko. He was slowly finding out that New York was nothing like the previous places he had lived.

"What a terrible curse it'll be havin' ya call me up fer dance dates." Des said drily as he followed her into the cab, having to duck down low to get inside. The curse of his height and ears. Leaning back into the seat he felt a minor sense of unease as he watched her not breathe or move or do anything else to betray her presence to the cat mutant other than talk and smell. "So what's yer 'usual' sugar biscuit?"

Remy wasn't particularly fond of Russians either. For some reason the bad ones always tried to double cross or renegotiate. "Well the best thing ya can do for them is just be better. Have to remember the reason why some of those people are so hell bent on winning dance or other competitions is the mafia makes them compete and it's the only way some of those families make money " Not that she was a fan but some cold war relics died painfully hard. 

"Yeah why not? Metropolitan areas have a greater rate of non 'standard' sexual tendencies hence the word metropolitan. Figure that with all the crazy mutant stories on the news and figuring it back down for bias. Chances are pretty good I can wingwoman you into bed with an interested guy. If there isn't a few other guys that latin bar i'll eat my panties." grinning at him since they both knew she didn't have any on at all. 

"Have to remember to get me a phone. Irritating inconvenience to get a new one every time." Looking over and noting how he was watching her she grinned as he was somewhat  uncomfortable. "If your uncomfortable you can always lay your head on my lap till we get there." Grinning mischievously then shrugging. "Not sweatpants I can tell you that! So what the hell brought you to New York? You already know I died so thats not really a conversation maker."

"Hey 'm a deviant whose been in repressive situations since I was a child. Can't blame me fer not always recognizin' that other people will notice how sex I am 'n go fer it. I'll hold ya to it considerin' right now my sweatpants are yer underwear 'n I have a sick fascination with makin' people eat their dares." Des grinned back, mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Ya better pet me bitch." Was all he said before Des went horizontal in the back of the taxi and gracefully flopped onto her lap. No heartbeat, no gut movements, weird scent that was getting more tolerable the longer he was around it associating it with 'friend'. He purred invitingly and batted large kittenish eyes up at her, doing his best to make himself cute. It worked only half of the time when he attempted it and usually the pets he got from those times were pity pets. Pets were pets.

"Gotta feelin' it ain't gonna shock me but it would shock my grandmama." Turning so he could easily look at her face during the conversation Des kept himself on her lap. "Was honorably discharged 'bout a year ago 'n I went back home ta my parents because nothin' like torture makes ya want yer mommy. Well couple o' months back this government dude shows up at my place 'n tries ta sell me on tha idea o' joinin' up with his shit 'n spyin' on a local mutant faction here 'cause he was 'worried' they were trainin' mutant kids fer a private army o' some sort. Told him ta shove it but I gotta say I was intrigued by a school that was exclusive ta mutants yanno? What kind o' safe space would it be? What kind o' target fer terrorists would it be? Kids are kids 'n don't deserve ta be targeted fer stuff they can't control. So I figured I could come up 'n be a dance teacher at tha school 'n join up with tha faculty in keepin' munchkins safe. Just haven't found tha courage ta go there yet. I ain't a shinin' example o' personhood."

Remy glanced to him and gave him an amused smirk. "That and considering I could probably manage it in reality prolly making think you win either way." Even she would be interested in watching someone eat a whole pair of sweatpants so she couldn't blame him. It wasn't like it would kill her either way. Not that it would be the most comfortable of situations.

Her amber eyes seemed to glow just a moment as they fell on him laying in her lap followed by a moment of complete stillness on her part broken by the tiniest of shrugs and her hand went to his hair and gave it a playful yank before soothing it out and actually petting him as if it was perfectly natural thing to do. Far more than a pity pet with the behind the ear scritches added in, playing up to his cat side as much as she could. It was odd to think this was the longest conversation she had held with a person in gods know how long that wasn't purely professional grade small talk before discussing jobs or acting them out.

A flash of a curl of her lip flitted in and out of existence at the mention of torture and her free hand pat him on the chest reassuringly. No judgement from her, people all coped in their own ways. "You talking about that X place? I imagine they are pretty used to threats and the like. In my opinion governments types are always worried someone will try to overthrow the government. I doubt your past matters to someplace like that. Capable people are always in demand, even Frogmen." Poking him in the chest even as he continued to pet him. "No plans myself as to what I want to do with myself in New York. Guess I will just have to see."