6th Card Dealt [Accidental Voice/Action -- Forward-dated to tomorrow morning]

[kineticcajun]

[It's around 9 AM and Gambit's journal is hitting the floor, sprawled open, and recording. There's a yell, a string of Cajun French curses, and a chain of nearly a half dozen minor explosions. And then a scuffling noise.]

--ey! You bes' be droppin' th-- merde!

[Heavy thump of a body hitting the floor. Rustling noise. More extremely colorful cursing in Cajun French.]

Drop it! That's--

[More scuffling. And suddenly, the journal is flying through the air. The view window might catch just the slightest glimpse of hideous, orange shag carpeting (in a violet-tinted world thanks to a kinetic charge) just before the feed cuts out with a boom.]


[Later on in the day, Gambit is out on a mission, and he's looking extremely irritated while doing it. Tossed over one shoulder are the remains of his trusty old leather duster, which has had an entire arm torn off and is missing a significant amount of fabric on the left side. What isn't ripped or torn is burned. Held in something of a death grip by what he can only assume counts as the scruff of the creature's neck is a violently orange fuzzball. It's not struggling. It's not even moving. He's just. Carting it around.

In the rain.

And looking furious.

First order of business is trying to find one Adele LeBlanc, because he recognizes this horrible orangeness from her evil sofa. After that, he's hoping to ditch the damn thing somewhere - it doesn't seem to be holding a charge like the sofa did and that is vaguely terrifying - and then it's time to find a new coat.

He liked that coat, man. The fuzzball is going to pay.]

Comments

[fleurdesel]

It ate your coat. I. Where was it when you woke?

[She pulls a towel or two from the linen closet and offers them to Gambit, motioning to the sink.] Set it in there for now.

[kineticcajun]

On the floor, eatin' my coat.

[Set it? How about throw it. Because that's what he's going to do. Basketball shot, right into the sink. It's a great shot, too. He will totally take responsibility for the splat of rainwater that sprays out of the orange fur, but first, taking that towel and trying to dry out his sopping hair.]

Pulled it right off a chair, I guess. All I know is, I heard it hit the floor an' it woke me up.

[fleurdesel]

...I do not think that was necessary. [She sighs and pulls out another towel to wipe up the water it splashed out onto the countertop.]

And you could not remove it as you did the sofa proper?

[kineticcajun]

It ate my coat, doc.

[That's all the explanation it needs, he thinks. Totally makes throwing the thing around necessary.]

An' no. I tried.

[fleurdesel]

It does not seem so much a threat, now. Did it...over eat and then pass out?

[kineticcajun]

Seems like it. Ain't no expert, a'course, but it took a handful of cards an' my journal an' kept on tickin'. Wasn't 'til I pulled my coat outta its mouth that it quit squirmin'.

[He can't believe he's saying these things.]

[fleurdesel]

Fire didn't work? It killed the sofa quite effectively before. [She's just going to...set a tray on top of the sink. Just in case.]

...you charged and blew up your journal.

[kineticcajun]

[Scowl.] ...Most'a my cards were in the coat.

[fleurdesel]

I think...

[She turns to one of the drawers and pulls it open, rummages a moment before she finds a pack and tosses it over to him.]

Here.


...why bring it to me Rems?

[kineticcajun]

[Because it's your fault he has this thing in the first place. I mean...]

'Cause I'm tryin' to figure out how t'get rid of the damn t'ing. Where'd the sofa come from in de firs' place?

[fleurdesel]

It was a bit of orange embroidery on a throw pillow. Then the entire pillow became furry and orange, then it grew over my sofa. Then it started pulling in additions.

[kineticcajun]

[It seriously started out as embroidery? And now it won't hold a charge. The implications of this are vaguely worrying.]

...Where'd the embroidery come from?

[fleurdesel]

It was on the pillow when I found it in the item shop. At the time I found it charming, a pleasant contrast to the rest of the pillow's fabric. I had no idea it would become what it became. Nor that it would spawn.

[kineticcajun]

So we basically got no idea where dis stuff comes from, huh.

[Should he maybe just turn it loose in the woods?]

[fleurdesel]

None whatsoever.

[She pads back over to the sink and peeks inside, frowning.] How big wasw it when it started to devour your coat?

[kineticcajun]

[He follows her over, peering down at the (apparently sleeping) orange thing. At this point, it's roughly the size of a large chihuahua.]

Looked 'bout the size of a sock when I woke up. S'been growin'.

[fleurdesel]

...there is a bottle of vodka and a lighter in the cabinet next to the stove. Bring both of those here?

[kineticcajun]

[Now you're talkin' his language. Grinning, he nods, and fetches the requested items, handing them over to her.]

I'm gettin' the feelin' this is gonna be right up my alley.

[fleurdesel]

[She slides the tray off to one side and uncaps the vodka. With a shrug she takes a swig and offers the bottle to Rem as well.]

For luck.

[kineticcajun]

[With a low laugh, he takes the bottle.] Oui. For luck.

[And he'll take his swig as well, then offer it on back. You in for it now, tribble.]

[fleurdesel]

As I said once before, and shall say again. [A half smirk and she pours the vodka over the sleeping...thing. Most of the bottle, anyway, before she lights it.]

Vive la France.

[kineticcajun]

[This honestly reminds him of half the stupid stunts he and Pyro used to pull off in his Acolyte days. He'd probably be laughing about this were he not so nettled that his coat's destroyed.]

An' you told me the basketball shot was overkill.

[Tsk, tsk, Adele.]

[fleurdesel]

Because of the water it splashed upon the counters, Rems. Not for what it did for your coat.

[Another half swig from the bottle before she screws the top back on and watches the orange fuzz ball...not react to the flames at all.]

[kineticcajun]

I was gonna clean it up.

[Yeah, that lack of a reaction is making him apprehensive that the flames are doing much at all. Gambit eyes the fuzzball for a moment, frowning when it just. Rolls over onto its side. That's it.]

...I hope this's workin'.

[fleurdesel]

...by now it should be...flailing. A little. Or making noise. Or anything but just sitting there.