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

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.]

[He obediently moves to the right, giving her enough room, cautiously hoping that was the end of the Go To The Clinic suggestions. And despite a lack of verbal tip that he's got to prove he's otherwise fine, he's going to be very careful not to trip or run into any trees from here out.

This will probably be more of a challenge than he means for it to be, but dammit if he won't try.

Also being serious about not tripping does not mean he can't crack stupid jokes.]

Makin' sure I don't go driftin' off downstream?

[Dryly:] I'm not wearin' my swimsuit.

[She moves around behind him, leaving plenty of space between them as she does -- and then she pauses.]

Unless you wanna wait around for that Jedi.

You kiddin'? You're better'n havin' a Jedi around any day. Even if you didn't bring a swimsuit.

[He honestly means that, too, but he'll keep up a light tone anyway. Up to her if she wants to take it as truth or just him joking around still.]

[She snorts. And puts on her best Jedi imitation voice.]

"These aren't the driods you're lookin' for."

[Low chuckle.]

See? I even get the best Jedi quotes outta you. Might not be able to convince Obi-Wan to jus' say it on his own.

Yeah, yeah. Just get movin', furball.

[She doesn't, however, waiting to see how he'll do.]

Since you asked so nicely...

[Walking now. This bo, it is his strategy. It's slow going, but at least now he can feel the way ahead without thunking into any tree trunks. Tadaa!]

[She keeps a step or two behind him so that he can have a clear path to sweep his bo, and... just in case.]

Very considerate of you.

[He's honestly making his way along fairly well, if very slowly. Although his banter abilities are dropping a bit as he tries to focus on finding his way.]

Southern chivalry, chere. Or somethin' like that.

Rock to your left.

[Sorry, was there banter? Just don't die right now, please.]

Thanks.

[Rock avoided! Although he's overcorrecting his path for it. Oops.]

Wait a sec - get your bearings.

[She doesn't touch him to correct him. She waits to see if he can figure it out.]

[That's enough of a reminder to get himself straightened back out. He readjusts for the overcorrection, using the rock as a reference point. Straightened out. At least he's pretty sure he is.]

Didn't jus' turn myself in one big circle, did I?

[Maybe a little.]

Little bit more ta the left.

[Pause - and then some encouragement.]

You're doin' good.

[Yup. Write this day down.]

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