"Oui," The Cajun agreed cheerfully, eyebrows waggling in a very suggestive way. "You like 'de perfec' woman. You come out of 'de be'room, you ask 'Do I look fat in 'dis?', 'de man say 'Yes', so you go back into 'de bat'room, you take out uh chunk o'flesh, an' you come back out. You coul' make your ass smaller, too." He turned some to look behind her, inspecting her rump. "Ain' bad." Because it was covered with cloth, for the most part. "An' I try to be inspira'ional, you gotta have somet'in' to look forwar' to, non? Jus' t'ink of me as your shoul'er angel." Angel was a gross overstatement of the Cajun, for sure.
"An' you ain' 'de only one missin' limbs, Chere. One guy, E'war', missin' his leg. Ain' bleedin', like you. But he got wires, an' me'al, ain' decomposin'. Jus'.. ain' real, I don' t'ink. Look like someone made him." Still, he was curious, and was gesturing that they begin walking again. "So, when you drink 'de beau'y wa'er, your arm an' your chunk gon' grow back? An' wha' 'bou' your eye? 'Dat con' grow back? Go' go back to norm'l?" He had so many questions, but was sure that she wouldn't be able to answer them all. She couldn't know everything there was to know about what happened with her.. but then again. Maybe she could. "An' wha' kin'a wa'er is 'dat? 'Cause if it make you youn' an' beau'iful 'gain, I wan' some of 'dat. Gon' keep it for when 'de girls t'ink I'm gettin' too ol'." An easy quip that came with a wink in return. The two of them really were being awful, weren't they? But at least they could take it as well as dish it.
"An' ain' not'in' wron' bein' blunt. I like 'dat 'bou' you, Chere. You ain' tryin' to sugar coa', ain' tryin' to hide. You jus' comin' out wit' it. It's nice." Very, very nice. He enjoyed blunt, just as he enjoyed giving blunt.
"Oh, 'dis grin?" He pointed at his face and laughed again. "Jus' won'erin' wha' sex wit' you woul' be like. Worried I'd break an' arm or a leg off. Maybe 'dat you'd squish? 'Dat I play wit' your breas', magnificen' as 'dey mus' have been when you wasn' all.. not-zombie.. worrie' 'day I migh' break 'em off. An' 'dey 'de bes' par' of a lady." Gambit, certainly, was a breast man. Very much so. "An' I'm t'inkin', if I tie you up, you jus' take an arm off an' get free, an' where's 'de fun in 'dat? You gon' have to drink some of 'dat wa'er, 'fore I'd have sex wit' you, Chere. I'd break you." And that.. had been what he was thinking. She'd asked for it, and she'd gotten it. Poor Laura. She would learn quickly that she'd get pretty candid answers from the Cajun.