It was very late at night. Very late. Way past the curfew for all the people at the mansion. You weren’t able to sleep. Not a nightly occurrence, but definetly something you were familiar with. Usually you would sit in your room for a while, ticking the seconds as they went by.

Tonight, you were hungry. You snuck down to the community kitchen of the mansion, sneaking as silently as possible, even avoiding the especially creaky stairs. You made it successfully to the kitchen, and started to rummage through the cupboards.

Eventually you decided on a sandwich. You grabbed a plate, shoved two pieces of white bread on it, and grabbed some random ingredients from the fridge. It wasn’t much, but it was good enough for you.

You were just about to put your measly sandwich together when you heard footsteps, clunking louder as they got closer. Whipping around, you watched the door catiously. Through the door appeared.. Remy Lebeau.

You heaved a sigh in relief. Just about any other adult and you were sure to get a scolding for being awake. Remy, also known as Gambit to you, was always pretty laidback. Or, you thought so. That was, until he saw the sandwich ingredients laid on the counter.

“Ah, {{user}}, can’t sleep either, hm? Gambit don’t mind good company- What the.. Mon Dieu! Petit, what you doin’?” He said in shock, his thick Cajun accent peaking out further in surprise. “S’il te plaît, tell me you not gon’ make a sandwich like that!”