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

[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.

[kineticcajun]

[His tone is a total sarcastic deadpan.] Yeah, great idea. It's orange an' a stray, let's jus' keep up the theme an' call it Oliver.

[How he even remembers that old movie is beyond him.]

[fleurdesel]

Oliver it is, then.

[Adele hefts the overly large fluff in her arms and chuckles, scratching at it's middle.]

Were I able I would fix your coat Rems. Truly.

[kineticcajun]

[Facepaaaaaalm.] I was kiddin' about that.

[Peeking from between his fingers, he glares out at the orange fluff ball. The Cajun accent is starting to get a little thicker than usual the more irritated he's getting at it. Oliver. Bon dieu it's got a name.]

I was gonna try an' find another one once I figured out what t'do wit' dat t'ing.

[fleurdesel]

That is what makes this amusing.

[She huffs a laugh and shakes her head, giving the little thing of fluff a jiggle. How much did it move anyway?] Oliver seems fairly lethargic. I think you would not loose anything more important should you take him with you to the clothing store.

[kineticcajun]

M'pretty sure whoever runs de clothes shop ain't gonna be too happy if he decides he's gonna eat a whole 'nother rack'a clothes.

[Oliver just seems to be flopping around still. "Lethargic" is a good word for it. Either that or "amorphous."]

[fleurdesel]

Put him on a leash, then. [No. She was not smirking. At all.]

[kineticcajun]

[This is a lopsided grin.]

You jus' t'ink this's the funnies' t'ing ever, don't you.

[fleurdesel]

...Yes. Yes I do. [With that she offers the fuzzy lump back to Gambit.]

[kineticcajun]

[He takes the fuzzball back, but once again grabs it by what he's only assuming counts as the scruff of its neck. Oliver just keeps up the floppish ragdoll effect. Gambit frowns down at it.]

...Maybe I can convince Rogue t'let me leave it on one'a the shelves in the item shop.

[If he's headed that way to get a leash anyway.]

[fleurdesel]

Perhaps her ability may be able to keep it in check. Just a thought, should he act up again. [Adele leans back against the counter with a faint shrug.]

I am sorry about this Rems. I didn't think that it would leave anything of itself behind.

[kineticcajun]

[Okay, that's honestly making him laugh.]

You kiddin', right? I wouldn't want her turnin' orange or gettin' a taste for fabric.

[And he just waves a hand dismissively at the apology. It happens to be the hand he's got Oliver in. The effect is something like waggling a soggy pillow around.]

So long as dis t'ing don't go breakin' off into pieces again, I t'ink we're fine.

[fleurdesel]

I would hate to think what else she might have should she touch Oliver. Just...keep him fed. A sock a day, I think, would be enough.

[Yes, she is using her lecture voice for the care and feeding of Oliver.] Carpet shampoo once a week or as needed, hairdryer for when you get him like. This. And no more leather, I don't think it's good for him.

[kineticcajun]

[Any thought of "mon dieu I don't wanna know what happens if Rogue zaps this t'ing" is completely derailed by that authoritative voice. Incredulous stare.]

...A sock a day.

[fleurdesel]

It is not as though we will have a shortage of them. Would you rather he eat your coat? Perhaps half a sock a day. I have never seen anything like this Rems, how would I know what it is you should or should not feed him?

[kineticcajun]

I dunno, you're the one actin' like an expert or somethin'. [He's starting to laugh again. This is ridiculous.]

Sock a day it is. I ain't lettin' it near any more coats.