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]

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.

[kineticcajun]

It didn't do much'a anythin' when I threw the cards an' journal at it, either. Jus' kept eatin' the coat.

[And he is not going to suggest that it's immune to explosions. Because that's practically asking for a jinx.]

[fleurdesel]

[Adele remains silent, just. Watching the fire die out, the orange fluff not at all damaged. She frowns, then tentatively reaches down to poke it. Softness of the orange fabric aside, it felt...squishy.]

It is less dense than the sofa was, I think.

[kineticcajun]

Prob'ly 'cause it's only full'a leather an' not furniture.

[Gambit folds his arms over his chest, frowning down at the hideous orange thing. How it's survived all that's been thrown at it so far, he doesn't care to find out. He just wants it gone.]

[fleurdesel]

It does not seem so bad.

[Another poke, slowly becoming a stroke. The color was offensive but the texture was...soft. Cushy. She watches it flop over but not make any attempt to nibble on her sleeve and chuckles.]

All things aside...it is somewhat. Cute.

[kineticcajun]

[Adele, this is a very incredulous look Remy is giving you right about now. He stares at her, glances down at the damn fuzzball as it scoots over a little bit, and then flops to a stop again.

And then he's looking back at Adele, eyes narrowed.]

You wanna keep it, then? 'cause I ain't waitin' for it t'finish off what's left of the coat.

[fleurdesel]

We already have three pets in the house Rems, I do not know how I would even begin to explain this to Helios and Ginia.

[She chuckles a bit at the movement, really. When it wasn't a sofa trying to strangle her? It was somewhat endearing. After a moment she gives the middle of it a bit of a scritch.]

...that's it, bustin' out the facepalm even if the other comic icons aren't in use yet >>

[kineticcajun]

[Is she-- she's really treating it like a puppy or something. Sigh. He runs a hand through his still-soggy hair, fighting down annoyance.]

Wouldn't happen to know anyone in the market for a coat-eater, wouldya? 'Cause I ain't keepin' it even if you do t'ink it's cute.

Muahahah, facepalm.

[fleurdesel]

It may not only eat coats.

[Adele tips her head to the side and pulls a rag from under the sink, holding it above the lethargic ball of fluff.]

[kineticcajun]

[Gambit watches as said ball of fluff flops over again, halfheartedly nips at the rag, and seems to decide that it's too full. It just sort of oozes back down into the sink and sits still again.]

Well, you got its attention, at least.

[fleurdesel]

And it seems to have a limit on what it will eat at one time. The sofa took no such breaks when it was expanding.

[Another scritch against the mass of it.]

[kineticcajun]

That ain't too reassurin'. The damage's already done.

[Noooo stop scritching at it. It is a bad fuzzball. It ate his coat. It deserves no affection.

Luceti. This is the only place where he would be standing in a kitchen, soaked in rainwater, and raging at a pile of orange fur for eating his coat. What is his life.]

...I can't believe you're really treatin' it like a pet, doc.

[fleurdesel]

It is behaving like a pet. I am sorry that it ate your coat Remy, truly, but. We cannot burn it, you cannot charge it, and if it is anything at all like the sofa knives and blunt force will do nothing. We may as well find a place for it.

[Carefully, very, very carefully she scoops up the damp lump of fur. Testing.]

[kineticcajun]

[Remy watches it like a hawk, waiting to knock it out of her hands if it tries to eat her sleeves or something. But it doesn't. It just. Flops. Like a ragdoll or something.]

So long as that place ain't my apartment, s'fine. I already contributed enough to its growth.

[fleurdesel]

...I do not think it will ever get much bigger. In fact, I think it is larger than it should be, truly. It overate, so to speak.

[kineticcajun]

[He eyes the fuzzball. And then frowns at Adele.]

...I ain't keepin' it.

[fleurdesel]

I cannot keep it here Rems.

[kineticcajun]

It's gotta go somewhere. I'm runnin' outta ideas of how t'get rid of it. It'll prob'ly come right back if I throw it in the river.

[fleurdesel]

I cannot help but think if you leave it here, it will find a way back to you. You fed it first, even if it was by accident.

[kineticcajun]

Great. S'like a stray cat, only it eats clothes. [So unamused.]

[fleurdesel]

[She huffs a soft laugh and looks back down at the fluff in her arms, scritching it.] Perhaps we should name it.