kineticcajun | 7th Card Dealt [Action/Voice]

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7th Card Dealt [Action/Voice]

[Just as the afternoon is winding down today, Gambit is waking up. In the middle of the woods. With the damned journal right next to him. Only as far as he can tell, it's the middle of the night, which is weird, because he can't hear any crickets or anything. But it's pitch dark out, in any case.

Which is also weird, because he should be able to see just fine in the dark, but that's another matter entirely.

He spends a while feeling around in the dark, trying to figure out a sense of direction (moss grows on the north side of trees, right?) before he ultimately figures, screw it, the enclosure is only so big, walking far enough in one direction will eventually lead him somewhere. The sooner he can find his way back to his apartment, the better. Everything hurts, up to and including his pride, but being stuck with nothing but a bunch of lunatic scientists for a couple weeks did little for his comfort levels in this place.

A couple hours and several bumps into trees later, he admits defeat. Whatever direction he's walking in (south...?), he's not getting anywhere except into more tree trunks. He's lost. And the fact that he can't see a damned thing is creeping up into a growing sense of panic. But now isn't the time to freak out. He can ride through this. He's been through worse.

But just this once, he's going to have to eat his big LeBeau Sense of Pride. Out comes the journal.]

[Voice]

Alright, alright. Y'all didn't move the village in the las' couple weeks, did you? Don't seem like it's where I left it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Huh? Whaddya mean? [The village seemed pretty normal to him while he was jogging about in his manly pink hoodie and sweatpants, but maybe he missed an important detail.]

I mean I ain't findin' it, garçon. Not like I don't know the way there.

Oh... [Wut.] So... y'lost, but... not really?

Guess that's one way of puttin' it.

[Don't call him lost, man, he totally can find his way back. But he needs some kind of landmark.]

Gee... ain't real sure how t'help ya. [BUT HE WANTS TO.] Uh, where are ya now?

By the river. S'on my left.

[That's totally what you were looking for, right.]

...Anythin' else? Any community buildings or somethin'? 'cause then I could try an' find ya an' it'd be a lil' easier.

[Mr. Cooperative, right here.] Dunno. Could be. Can't see through all these trees.

Huh. 'kay... I don' got nothin' I should be doin', so m'gonna head out an' see if I'll run into ya. M'wearin' a hoodie that's kind a' pink, if that helps, an'... m'not exactly the tallest guy around.

[A wry little chuckle.]

M'name's Mac, by the way... you can try callin' out if y'think y'hear somebody walkin' around. M'hopin' this works out.

[The least he can do is attempt to be helpful when so many in Luceti have shown him nothing but kindness.]

A pink hoodie. Right. [He almost wishes he could see that. It also sounds oddly familiar, but he can't put his finger on it. Whatever.]

Name's Gambit. I'll be the guy wit' the red an' black eyes.

[As far as he's noticed, he's the only one here with black eyeballs.]

Red an' black?

[Setting aside the fact that sounds both cool and mildly creepy, he adds:]

...Guess I'd have t'be standin' pretty close. What colour's y'shirt?

[Stop asking the hard questions, Mac. There's a pause as he tries to remember what shirt he had on when he was taken. It's... probably the same one. Maybe.]

...Dark blue, prob'ly.

[It's only because your answers are terrible, Remy.

Yeeeah, he won't question that 'probably'.]

Awright. Steppin' out now... ain't sure how long it'll be or if I find ya, but m'gonna give it m'best shot.

[This is something he doesn't think he'll ever get used to: the people in Luceti being genuinely good people. Helping just because they can and think they should. He blows out a sigh, smiling despite himself.]

'preciate it, mon ami.

[And he's off, zipping up that famous hoodie of his and wandering through the woods with an eye open for some guy in a blue shirt - it's vague, but it's something, at least. On occasion, Mac'll call out for him too, which hopefully will help in the search; something along the lines of, 'YO GAMBIT!'. Is he getting warm?]

[Kid, you are not good at stealth, are you? Although Gambit can't help but grin a bit at it. Tempting as it is to mess with him about it, he'll behave for once. Being a jerk to someone willing to help when you can't see a damn thing isn't the best idea.

And so he calls back.

Still snarky, though.]

Ain't you s'posed to be yellin' "Marco" so I can say "Polo"?

[~~Hey, man, he's eighteen now and totally a grown man, amirite?~~ His head snaps in the direction of the response, his pace quickening as he notes the blue shirt. Grass rustles underfoot.]

Hey - - there you are! Hope y'wasn't waitin' long. [Drawing nearer, he notes the man's unusual eyes with a look of wonder.] Whoa... y'wasn't kiddin'...

[Yeah, he totally can't tell that it's his eyes Mac is talking about. He can guess, but he's going to joke around anyway.]

Yep. The shirt really is dark blue. Wasn't kiddin'.

I mean- - nevermind. [He glances aside sheepishly, aware it is probably impolite to stare even if its with fascination rather than horror.]

So, uh... where'djya wanna go again? Wait... howdjya even get here if y'don' know how t'get back? [A thoughtful pause, his brows knitting in sympathy.] Is it a Malnosso thing?

[This would be a flat look if he was looking in the right direction. Which he isn't. His gaze is slightly off to Mac's left. But still.]

It's a Malnosso t'ing. Trust me. Jus' tryin' to get back to the community housin', building 1.

Hey... [The pieces of this strange puzzle are very slowly coming together.]

...Can y'see me?

[Perhaps it's a little rude of him to ask, but he only realizes this afterwards. Welp. He doesn't wave his hand in front of Gambit's face, however - thankfully, it crosses his mind not to try.]

[Merde. Caught. That ruse was bound to run out sooner or later. Joking around relentlessly was way easier.]

Non. Hate to wreck the pink hoodie idea. Prob'ly woulda made you good an' visible otherwise.

Heh... this makes helluva a lot more sense now.

[He places his hands on his hips contemplatively.]

I can take y'there no prob'm, but... [Glancing upwards, he presses on:] ... d'ya need me t'help ya, or are y'okay? [An easy, one-shouldered shrug.] I don' mind.

Jus' you walk on ahead, an' I'll follow your voice. Shouldn't need any other help than that.

[Yeah, he's way too stubborn. Good luck, Mac.]

[The Bronxite decides against pushing the matter and turns on his heel, leading the way.] 'kay; no prob'm.

[He'll walk at a leisurely albeit purposeful pace with his hands stuffed into his pockets, glancing back often and making sure not to wander off too far. ~~Keeping close like a loyal dog, this one.~~]

Been 'round here long?

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