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]

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.

[fleurdesel]

The sofa seemed to prefer cotton. At least that is what it grabbed for first, and what it grabbed most often. [She shrugs.]

[kineticcajun]

[Oliver gives a halfhearted squirm, which Gambit ignores.]

Guess we'll find out if this one's got the same tastes.

[fleurdesel]

I would ask you not to hold him like that, but he did eat your coat.

[She turns to walk Gambit back out of the house, waving around the few damp spots in the carpet dripping Oliver had left earlier.]

[kineticcajun]

M'not carryin' him around like a baby if that's what you're t'inkin'.

[Merde, now she's got him calling it "him." Frowning again, he follows her lead back towards the door. Stupid fluff ball.]

[fleurdesel]

Again: He ate your coat, he's earned whatever you see fit.

[She unlocks and holds the door open, pausing to pull an overlarge coat from the closet.] From my New Feather stash. Just to keep you dry until you reach the store Rems.

[kineticcajun]

Naw, keep it in case of another New Feather. Ain't too far an' I don't catch colds easy anyway.

[Lopsided grin.] I'll dry off when I get home an' throw this t'ing in a box or somethin'.

[fleurdesel]

As you will, Rems. [She chuckles and hangs the coat back up before walking to Gambit's side and leaning up to kiss his cheek.]

Take care not to make yourself ill. If you manage it? I will make you beginets.

[kineticcajun]

[The grin widens into a warm smile.]

I'll let you know either way. But you better start gettin' ready to make those beignets.

[fleurdesel]

If you are ill I will just have to bring over stew and cornbread.

[kineticcajun]

Not happenin'. Won't get sick. Jus' you wait, doc, you'll see.

[Out into the rain he goes. Oliver is still unmoving as the rain starts to soak in again.]