There's an element to the way he's looking at her that almost bothers her, but not quite. He's studying her for some reason, watching as if waiting for a sign of something, but she doesn't know what. Couldn't even begin to guess. So she just slides into the car when he opens the door, setting her small duffel in the floorboard at her feet. Her movements aren't as easy and graceful as they once were, her body still recovering from farther travel than anyone here knew, not to mention the things she'd gone through before leaving her world.

"Marie LeBeau," she answers in return as the wind picks up a bit from the top being down. It's a warm night, though, and she enjoys being out under the stars. It was so much better than those three years of never seeing the sky. "I usually go by Rogue, but you choose which to call me. I didn't exactly plan to come to France, I usually live in New York, but I just sort of... landed here." It was a deliberate word choice. When telling lies, it was best to stick close to the truth so you didn't slip up and get caught.