kineticcajun | 7th Card Dealt [Action/Voice]

Entry tags:

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

Just hopin' to avoid the kiss of life.

[Considering how it... wouldn't work.]

I see you now.

I'll hafta take your word for it, chere.

[Because he sure as anything can't see you.]

I'm guessing now would be a really bad time to sneak up on you and go "Boo."

[This, a somewhat desperate attempt to remain casual, because... he looks all wrong.]

[Low laugh.]

Prob'ly. But now that I know it'd be you, might not be too bad.

[She shuts the book and shouts up the river - only about half a block away from him now.]

"Boo," Cajun.

[Though he turns in her direction, he's still not looking quite at her. But it's close. There's a blink, and then he cracks a grin before calling back.]

Ain't you supposed to sneak up an' be quiet when you say that?

Darn, knew I was doin' somethin' wrong.

[She makes sure her steps are loud as she approaches, noticing the way he's holding his head...

Damnit.

Damnit.]

[Loud steps are good. He can trace where she is better with those. With a little careful listening, he's pretty sure he can tell where she is. His glance is probably little less off-center now.]

Funny, I seem to remember you bein' able to sneak up on me pretty good before.

Yeah?

[Occupied with the present, she's not sure what he's referring to right now.]

When was that? I'd hate ta think I forgot.

The warehouse. Those mines durin' the draft. You're sneakier'n you might t'ink, chere.

[There's probably more, but thinking back right now is something he's trying to avoid.]

Nope. Don't recall.

[Flippant.

And she comes to a stop about an arm's length away from him.]

Hey.

[Have a greeting. Hesitant.]

[After all that noise in approaching, he's at least looking in the right direction, although he's not managing eye contact.]

Hey to you too.

[Finally back from mad scientist land, Rogue actually comes out to find him, and he can't even see her. The full volume of it didn't hit until just now.

Malnosso, he really hates you.]

[She doesn't bother waving a hand in front of his face - those times she saw Irene without her glasses, everything about the way he's holding himself...

She bites the inside of her lip and looks down and to the side. Something glints in the sunlight and she walks towards it without a word to him - ah. Good.

There should be the familiar sound as Rogue casually demonstrates intimate knowledge of Gambit's weapon, lengthening it.]

Here. [She starts walking back towards him.] Found your bo. It'll do for now.

[That is a familiar sound indeed. And there is no small amount of relief that floods through him when he hears it. Rogue, you are a lifesaver. He's not even going to bother trying to hide the genuine smile that it draws out of him.]

Don't tell me that t'ing's jus' been sittin' right there this whole time.

[Way easier to joke around about that than to get into the massive sense of relief, right.]

A little bit more ta the left, an' you woulda tripped on it.

[She stops about three paces away from him.]

Put your hand out, an' I'll give it to ya.

Glad I didn't, then.

[Hand held out. Look how good he can follow directions if he wants to.]

[She extends the edge of the bo over his fingers and then slides it across until it rests in his palm.]

Got it?

[There is something about the way she just handled this that tells him it isn't her first time dealing with this sort of situation. But instead of ask about it, he just curls his fingers around the bo and makes sure he has a steady grip on it.]

Got it. Merci beaucoup, chere.

[She rolls her eyes at the nickname, a wasted effort since he can't see the response, but she hopes he'll sense it anyway.]

I reckon you'll throw a fit if I take ya to a clinic.

[Not that she knows any particulars, but she does know men and medicine.]

[This one's even more averse than the usual, no less. Especially on the heels of the last two weeks. His shoulders tense up a bit at the word "clinic", a small frown tugging at one corner of his mouth, before he shakes his head.]

'preciate the thought, but I ain't in any hurry to go an' get poked at by any doctors right about now.

[Frown.]

Then ya get to pick the magic healer of your choice. Your sight could be a shift effect, or it could be the result of whatever crap they did ta you. Do you really wanna wait around and find out?

[This may be one of the rare occasions that she will be bossy about someone else's life. Or she may respect his decision. It's up in the air right now.]

[Waiting around a week to see if it wears off sounds just fine to him. At least in comparison to doctors. Definitely do not want any doctors around right now.]

So it might be permanent or it might wear off on its own anyway. Either way, don't seem like there's too much they could do about it.

[Stubborn or sullen, you decide. Possibly both.]

But you don't know what else they did to you.

[Weak, mirthless laugh.] Pretty sure this's it, aside from a couple scrapes an' bruises.

[Although he really doesn't want to think about the very possible what if they messed with my head. Just because Sinister didn't put him under for that kind of thing doesn't mean the Malnosso would do the same.

He's definitely not tensing up even more as that memory surfaces, you're just imagining that.]

[...]

Move to your right a little. I'll walk on the side of the river.

[Is it over? She's not certain. But she's a big proponent of people making their own choices, when they're not suicidal ones.

Really, he's got the walk back to the town to convince her they didn't drug him or something. Good luck.]

[Private]

[Private]

[Private]

[Private]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]