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.

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[There's a low laugh at the "Eeyore" bit. Rogue, you can always be counted on to keep things in perspective. Although the "I can't see anything due to mad scientists" perspective is a hard one to shake off.]

The river ain't the problem. It's the trees jumpin' up outta nowhere. 'Sides, what kinda swamp rat drowns in this li'l creek anyway?

The kind that can't find his way up.

[Not that she's concerned about you or anything.]

Look, have you got help comin' to ya or not.

[It probably should not amuse him half as much as it does that she's asking.]

T'ink I've got a Jedi headin' this way. But y'know I wouldn't turn down your company, chere.

[Tartly at that sensed amusement:] An' you know I'd hate ta get in the way.

[A jedi. Geeze.]

Just stay outta the water.

You wouldn't be in the way. [Aside from the fact that he's less hesitant to have Rogue nearby than Obi-Wan freakin' Kenobi, he knows she's not the kind to get underfoot anyway. But still.]

But that's the plan. Won't go for a swim, I promise.

[At least not intentionally.]

[That is the sound of gloved finger strumming against something hard.

...

Fine.

The strumming stops abruptly.]

Is that an invitation?

[She's practically glaring at the poor journal for making her life so freaking difficult.

...oh wait. That would actually be Gambit.]

[Is it possible to hear a glare? Because he could swear he's hearing that tone of voice.

Teasing is clearly the answer to that tone.]

'Course it is. Unless, of course, you didn't miss me any, then I guess I jus' gotta go along wit' the Jedi.

I missed you like I miss a hole in the head.

[Automatic retort is automatic.

Gawd. Blind. She relents a little.]

But I'd hate ta have you drive a Jedi to the dark side. Just keep your journal opened.

[At least he's a charming hole in the head, right?

Remy just gives a low chuckle, trying to focus more on pestering Rogue lightly than on the growing worry that this blind thing is permanent.]

Moi? Turnin' Jedi to the dark side? I t'ink you may be givin' me more credit than I'm due, chere.

[Grumble grumble.]

I think you could drive a saint ta drink.

[She's coming, she's coming... and she's leaving the journal opened while she walks.]

You've held up pretty good under the pressure, then.

[Not laughing. Really. Just terribly amused.]

You say that like I've got anyplace lower ta go.

[Juuuuuuuuuuust kidding. Mostly.]

[There's always someplace lower to go, chere.]

I dunno... takes pretty saintlike patience to put up with a LeBeau.

You keep that up, I'll start wonderin' if I should take the veil.

[...ah, if only she was Roman Catholic.]

Can't have that, now, can we?

[Aside from the fact that he'd be on an even faster train to Hell for hitting relentlessly on a nun...]

Might solve some problems...

Some, maybe. But it'd create a few more, I t'ink.

Edited 2012-05-08 02:54 (UTC)

Yeah. Like where would I find a - whatchamacallit - wimple.

[Okay it's really getting hard not to laugh at this point.]

If you asked real nice, the Malnosso might send one for you.

[That's fine, laughter might be what she's going for. That's why she injects all this hopeful enthusiasm into her voice.]

Ya think?

[You win, Rogue. That's got him laughing.]

Well, if they figure out it's your lifelong dream, then maybe not. You know how they like to rain on parades.

[Ah, there's a laugh. Good. Then he'll be all right.]

Well, it was more of a longshot, anyway.

[He'll be fine. Much as he isn't thinking that for now. But banter is familiar and something to take refuge in, so to speak.]

Hate to ruin that pious dream of yours, chere.

[Light scoffing.]

I ain't Catholic.

[She is, however, walking along the river now.]

If it's any consolation, I ain't a very good Catholic. Not bein' one at all mighta been a better career choice for me.

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