Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

"You like some super genius, Docteur." Came the smooth, Cajun-accented voice from the direction of the cemetery. That red-head was perched up on the tallest gravestone, crouched down on the four-foot high round tombstone. Normally, he'd taken to sitting on the shoulder of one of the angels there, but it wasn't nearly as comfortable as the marble he was now settled on. Jeans, long-sleeve t-shirt (to combat the cooler temperatures), clean-looking sneakers (which was oh-so-rare for him, but his soaking wet boots were sitting out drying in the sun) and his gloves. He looked casual. He always did. And he was slowly straightening up, balancing without any trouble atop that headstone, so he towered over the Doctor below.

"Leas' i' works, non?" The Cajun asked with a curling smile, eyebrows lifting. There was a sway to his hips as he tilted to one side, then stepped forward and hopped down off the stone, having lept to the side a little so he could land on the creaking iron fence surrounding that graveyard. He groaned and strained under his greater weight, but it held him. He did this more often than he'd never admit, spent time in this graveyard leaping from stone to stone, he had to keep his skills sharp after all. When he got out of this place, he didn't want to be dull.

"Prou' o' you. T'ink i's gonna work?" A few steps along that fence, avoiding the spikes, he got closer to the Doctor, until he was just five feet away and could hop down and walk the rest of the way, gloved thumbs hooking in the belt loops of his jeans, for lack of a coat. He had to go get one. Badly. He needed somewhere to keep his playing cards.