Gambit watched the explosion with an air of dark glee, his red eyes smoldering in the firelight. He was not a killer, not normally, not intentionally, but these ignorant fils de pute had it coming, not that he had struck to kill. The men were all thrown off their feet from the explosion, and he was sure injuries would result, and if any of them were serious... well, he had enough ghosts in his past to feel guilty for, he wasn’t about to let anyone from the FOH keep him awake at night.

Getting to his feet, cards at the ready, the Cajun approached one of the fallen men. “Dis ain’ your day, homme,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “But maybe I give you a chance t’ change your luck. Go on... pick a card...”

Holding up the glowing hand of cards, his almost maniacal grin faded when his path was suddenly blocked by a small and very familiar figure. Covering his surprise, disappointment, and all other emotions behind a well practiced poker face, he tilted his head to the side. “Bonjour, chère. Fancy meetin’ you here.”