Remy LeBeau (Gambit) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kineticcajun) wrote2012-05-06 12:18 am
kineticcajun) wrote2012-05-06 12:18 am
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.
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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Us Cajuns, sometimes we slip that kinda t'ing in.
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[He trails off thoughtfully.]
Hey... you from down South?
[How vague.]
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[And damn proud of it, too.]
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[Not that he doesn't appreciate it, but you know.]
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...Naaah.]
You're right 'bout the spirit'a charity in this place, though. Seems like we got more helpful-types runnin' around than anythin'.
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...Maybe it's 'cause we's all in this t'gether so we really do gotta help each other out. Nobody here can really jus'... be all alone.
[While he doesn't mean it in the sense that a person can't have a moment's privacy when they need it, he isn't sure how to best convey this idea.]
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Never a moment of peace here, that's for sure. Everybody's always lookin' out to guard everyone else's backs.
[And he's so not used to that person at his back not trying to stab him in it, even after all these months. Old habits die hard.]
...'cept, of course, for those people who don't. Seems we got a couple baddies lurkin' around even here.
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[Of course, the 'villainous' sort aren't always so very obvious about their intentions.]
No matter what happens, I know I got people lookin' out f'me, jus' like how m'gonna do m'best t'do the same. It's nice. Things're kind a' diff'rent back home. [He absently kicks at a stone.] Don' got so many friends as I do here, that's f'sure.
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Yeah, t'ings weren't much like this where I come from either. Pretty much always got someone out to trip you up. Takes some gettin' used to, havin' actual decent folks all but runnin' this place.
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