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

It's usually not more'n a week.

[Usually.]

[Yeah, he picked up on that 'usually'.]

Meanin' sometimes it's more'n a week?

Aw - who the heck knows, Remy? Can't find no rhyme or reason in what they do.

[While what she says is absolutely true, Gambit is busy getting caught up on details that probably aren't terribly important at the moment.]

That's the second time you've called me by my real name today. I mus' be in real trouble.

[Remy LeBeau: Easily distracted.]

[...aww, shit.

He wasn't the only one in trouble.

Crap.]

You're the one wanderin' 'round blind - you tell me.

[Totally effective evasion.]

[Not so effective. Because he's just grinning away over here.]

I dunno, I seem to be gettin' around a li'l better since you got here.

Then I guess I can jus' walk off an' leave you here, if you're gettin' along so fine.

[Oh, this is the emptiest of threats. It's kind of sad, really. At least it's delivered with appropriate huff.

She is so flustered. Too bad you can't see it, huh? >>]

[It is indeed a pity. He wishes he could see it, but the level of huff in her tone is enough for satisfaction for now.]

An' what if you're the lucky charm keepin' me from walkin' right into the river? Then I wouldn't be gettin' along fine at all.

[Snort.]

You an' I both know the only luck I have attached to me is toxic.

Au contraire, chere. You're luckier'n you might t'ink. 'Sides, I gave you my luckiest card. She ain't toxic.

[There's a pause as he navigates around a tree root.]

...That is, if she followed you here.

[She scoffs.]

Che - boy, you think anythin' following in us in here is lucky?

[She will neither confirm nor deny.

...though she is horribly off her game today, she's not that far gone.]

...You gotta point. Anythin' an' anyone in this place has fallen on hard luck, that's for damn sure.

[Another tree root successfully avoided! He's kind of getting the hang of this.]

[...somehow that's a lot less satisfying than she thought it would be.]

[As he picks his way around another tree root:]

That don't mean I'm takin' back what I said, though.

Assumin' you can even remember what that was.

[Because she is so pretending she doesn't.]

We both know your head is full of holes.

So mon frère used to tell me.

[He grins despite himself.]

'preciate you helpin' me an' my holey head, in any case.

Can't let a swamp rat drown in the river. That'd just be sad.

[Oh good. The subject has been dropped.]

[He knows she didn't mean it in this sense, but he's playing this card anyway. Because.]

An' I'd hate to do anythin' to make you sad, chere.

[She gives a dismissive snort.]

Right. So ya got me the knock-out gas that wouldn't put a tear in my eye.

[It's an old retort, but it's the first thing that comes to mind.

Probably because of the distinctly unfair flutter that accompanied those words.]

[He may not have flinched over doing it at the time, but the reminder of the knock-out gas makes him shake his head now. Sure, there probably wasn't any other way to get her to come along with him. But then again, maybe it's for the best that he'll never live it down.]

Not somethin' I'm ever gonna repeat.

[...surprisingly effective. Huh.]

Glad ta hear it. I'd hate ta think of you bein' that desperate for a date.

Are you implyin' you might actually t'ink about it if I asked you on one?

[Because clearly that's where you were going with that, right.]

[Snort.]

I'm thinkin' ya might need ta brush up on your definition of a 'date,' Cajun.

[Here's a hint: It usually involves touching people.]

Do I? 'Cause I'm t'inkin'... candlelight dinner, jus' the two of us.

[Rogue, you forget there's more to it than just touching.

Also that is a rock in his path and he just narrowly avoided it.]

[Damn her heart for speeding up, damn him for laying it out and asking her, and damn the Malnosso for making it so she can't just walk away.

She hopes her tone holds no hint of her fluster, but she's a sap for stupid, simple romantic things like that, and it disconcerts her that he'd guess.]

You sure they didn't mess with your head?

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