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Vas Captio Mods ([info]vas_captio_mod) wrote in [info]vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-08 15:57:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:!complete, day 10, ellen ripley, ianto jones, jack harkness, jenny schecter, location: museum, open, remy lebeau, sam winchester, sarah jane smith, shannon rutherford

Day 10: Museum - 1:15pm
Who: OTA
What: Seven point five
When: 1:15pm - 5:00pm
Where: the Museum
Rating: TBA
Status: Active



The sun was shining high in the sky and a gentle breeze stroked the leaves of the trees, making them, along with the severed stub of rope on the clock face from the day previous sway lazily. It was quiet. Perhaps it was too quiet, for the lack of birds chirping or insects buzzing.

All in all, the day was one of the most pleasant as of yet for the bulk of the involuntary residents of Vas Captio, save, of course, the heat. Maybe it was a bit too hot to be entirely comfortable.

It started small, as most things do. A few of the sculptures rattled against the glass displays encasing them and the loose windows in some of the rooms jittered anxiously in their frames. The floor seemed to wiggle gently but then, all was quiet and immobile again.

As if to protest the stillness of the museum, a great angry shudder rumbled through the foundation. Some of the wooden floorboards seemed to shoot upward as they snapped in half or into pieces, jutting up from the floor. The whole building dropped down as its weak foundation crumbled beneath it, creating the sensation of a very short elevator drop. Glass shattered loudly, throwing about shards sharp as knives and raining them down into the floors or walls as if tossed by a knife-thrower. The doors of the multiple rooms flew open, some ripping off their hinges entirely and others being slammed angrily shut again when large display cases made of wood and metal were thrown against them.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the place as displays were destroyed completely sending still more shards of what remained everywhere, creating somewhat of a death trap, especially in the main lobby where the bulk of the displays remained. That sound was skewed until it was nearly drowned out completely as the roar of metal supports trying to hold and failing came to fruition and the entire building's worth of ceiling space collapsed in. Some of the doorways managed to hold up - those in which the doors were jammed in place by felled display cases - while others caved in under the weight of the falling debris and the loss of structure when the museum dropped from its foundation to the ground a few feet below. Almost as quickly as everything began, the movement dropped away.

Vas Captio was still, again, and silent once more.



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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 12:17 am UTC (link)
Shannon had been loathe to let Sam leave her once they'd managed to get themselves outside, but she also couldn't seem to make herself ask him to stay against his will. His brother was out there somewhere. And his friends. As much as Shannon hated to admit it to herself, she knew that there were other people in Sam's life that he cared about, so when he had wanted to go, she'd let him.

Then she was outside, sitting with her knees only drawn up halfway to her chest because it hurt her back too much to draw them up entirely to hug herself the way she normally would've when she felt abandoned. Plus, when she tried, her side screamed in protest, so she'd given up and compromised with the position in which she was currently in. Staring down at the dead grass and shaking, she didn't see the person approaching so much as heard him when he spoke. Chere, he called her. The guy who spoke French. Shannon looked up and gasped reflexively at his eyes. Friend of the Doctor. Speaks French. Was a nice guy on the journals. Chill the fuck out, Shannon. What kind of sick fuck would hurt a girl as beaten up as you look right now, anyway? she told herself.

"I know," she said softly, licking her lips and looking down again. She didn't want to go there. The gym, she knew, was one of the places advertised as a safe haven for people who hadn't yet found a shelter and she could only assume there were plenty of other people there that would need tending to.

Her side hurt, still, but it was mostly okay, as she moved her hand to cover the wound and press on it again, wincing just slightly. Sam had taken out the splinters; she'd live. "I'm okay..." she lied, looking back up at him. He was smiling at her and the smile reminded her of Dean when they were having better days. She blushed and pushed her hair behind one ear with her free hand. "You look like you made it out pretty well...where were you?"

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 12:40 am UTC (link)
"In 'de fores', not far from 'de glass." He answered her easily, though his smile had widened out when she'd gasped at his eyes. Typical reaction. And he thought, really, that she might have run away were she capable of doing so. But she wasn't. When she looked down at the grass again the Cajun came a few steps forward, coat shifting behind him as he did. It was only when she looked up again that Remy stopped walking, just five feet from her now. Well within grabbing distance, if he did turn out to be something she needed to worry about. But he certainly didn't look it. Not with that face. Not with that smile. And not with his body language, the easy stands, the way he kept his hands in his pockets. But those eyes..

Her blush, though, certainly caught his attention, and the trench-coated mutant was coming another step forward so he could very carefully remove his hands from his pockets and crouch in front of her, bending at the waist to let his elbows rest on his thighs and balance him. Remy LeBeau, to say the least, was a very graceful man. Everything he did was in smooth motions, fluid movements. When he crouched down there was no jerking, no shifting-- it was more liken to a dancer than anything else. Grace. You had to be graceful in his line of work.

"You don' look okay, Chere. Wouul'n' be tryin' to get rid of me now, woul' you? I'm like mol', or weeds in 'de grass. Always where I ain' wan'e', an' har' to get rid of." It was then that those red eyes were dropping down to where her hand was pressing against the injury in her side. "Seem to me like you need somet'in' tie 'roun' 'dat." Unfortunately, he wasn't about to give up his favorite leather coat. So instead, he was rising back to his feet in a fluid motion and shrugging that heavy coat off (it was too hot for it, anyway-- and it was then that it dawned on him.. he was glad he'd brought his coat, the Doctor's could be lost in that museum forever.. that'd be a shame) and dropping it onto the ground, revealing the dark turtleneck beneath. It didn't take long to pull it off over his head, leaving him in just the black tanktop he was wearing under it. But Shannon would be treated to a nice view of the lithe but muscular Cajun's arms. Not bad.

He was folding the middle of the turtleneck, wrapping it around itself to make a padded area before kneeling gracefully in front of her again, this time, the knees of his torn pant legs connecting with the ground to give him stability. "Lean forwar', Chere."

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 12:56 am UTC (link)
It didn't escape her notice that when the man - Gambit, was it? It was something weird, but she couldn't quite remember what - crouch down in front of her, it was gracefully. She arched an appraising eyebrow at him wondering if he was a dancer in the real world like she was. She wasn't going to ask, but it was fodder for thought, at least. In response to his question, she smiled weakly and shook her head. "I just don't want to move," she admitted, feeling a bit sheepish at the admission to both her actual state of being as well as her naturally lazy nature.

She watched him cautiously as he suggested she might need something to tie around it and then stood, shrugging off the leather jacket that, again, reminded her of Dean. Cut it out, she told herself. That was done and over with, so far as she could tell. Then, when he took off the turtleneck underneath, revealing a damn nice set of big guns, wearing just a black tank top, Shannon's breath caught and she looked down again.

Jesus, so many years spend using her own body to get the things she wanted and standing in front of her was a guy who could and maybe did do the very same thing. Huh. He spoke French, was graceful as hell, and judging from what she'd noticed just before forcing herself to look away again, he had himself a pretty nice physique. Never mind that smile and rogueishly good-looking face. Shannon thought maybe - just maybe - now she'd met her match. She'd thought, perhaps, that Jack was her male counterpart here, but she'd been wrong the first time thinking that Dean was, she supposed.

He spoke again as he kneeled down in front of her and she looked up. "Okay...?" she asked, brow furrowed slightly, wondering why, really, leaning forward would help him at all. It dawned on her a second later that she was leaned up against the building. Dumbass, she thought and did as the man said. "I'm really okay..." she insisted however weakly. Shannon wondered just how many people she was going to be a burden to in this place. Dean, Sam, the Doctor, Jack, Ianto...now this guy? Great. She could almost hear Boone's voice in her head, now.

You're being worthless over here, Shan.

And, yeah. She was.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 01:08 am UTC (link)
He certainly was built nicely. God had taken his time making that torso. And it showed. However, when she protested (but leaned forward), the Cajun just flashed her another easy-going smile and leaned in to begin tugging her shirt up, exposing the skin beneath. If he met any resistance it would promptly be ignored. And once that ruined tank-top was pulled up to just under her bra, he was indicating that she take hold of it to keep it there, as he allowed partially gloved fingers to graze near the wound, inspecting it briefly. Upon finding no shards of glass, metal, or wood (good man, Sam!) he was bringing the turtleneck around her waist, pressing the bulk of the shirt, where it had been wrapped around a few times, against the wound on her side to hold it in place.

"'Dere we go, not so bad, non?" He rolled his left shoulder some, trying to work the stabbing pain out of it while he was reaching forward. The shoulder, nearest the back, was badly bruised up and would be noticeable from his angle, as he leaned in to tie the long-sleeve shirt firmly around her waist to stem the bleeding. However, once the shirt was secure he was reaching up to tug her tank-top down again. She'd no longer have the slim line around her waist, thanks to the bulk of the turtleneck beneath, folded on one side and tied on the other. But he was relatively satisfied that he'd done a well enough job. For now.

"You ain' gon' die on me now, are you, Chere? Woul' hate to have ruin' my only shir' on someone who gonna die anyway." It was partial tease, partial question. He didn't think she was going to die, but he wasn't a doctor and wasn't able to tell if she had any internal bleeding, or problems that he couldn't see from the outside.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 01:19 am UTC (link)
Shannon stiffened when he moved to pull up her shirt. It was one thing for Sam to do it, but it was quite another for a complete stranger to do the same. She remained tense, but she let him, because he stopped at the same place Sam had. Taking hold of the shirt, Shannon stared back at him, watching him carefully and trying not to wince when he touched her. It didn't hurt where he touched; the wince was reflexive, under the assumption that he would touch the wound itself the way Sam had and that had hurt.

He didn't touch it, though, wrapping the shirt around her waist instead. When he was finished, she gave him a small, grateful smile. "Not so bad," she agreed, brow furrowing sympathetically as he rolled his shoulder. He was favoring it the way Sam had been favoring his. "What happened?" she asked passively, in case he didn't want to mention. For all she knew, it could be an old injury brought back into pain from whatever went down in the forest during the quake. The bruise caught her eye and she winced again. "Ouch...that looks painful," she murmured, looking back at his face as he tied the shirt and pulled her tank top back down around it.

A soft huff of humorless laughter elicited itself from Shannon's lips in response to his question. "No," she replied. "I'm okay." She paused. "Well, I'll live, in any case," she amended. Another pause and she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears after wiping her bloody hand on her skirt. "Thank you," she said sincerely, looking him in the eye.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 01:31 am UTC (link)
"Big tree fell on it." Remy answered simply, that smile curling up into a grin. "Huge tree. T'irty, for'ty. Fi'ty feet, even. Lucky I wasn' crush'. Had to lif' 'de tree, pull Le Docteur out from un'er it. He was nearly crush', too. He was lucky I was 'dere to save him." Yeah, that definitely hadn't happened.. if the tall tale wasn't enough to say that it wasn't true, the large grin plastered on his handsome face was. "Disloca'e'. But I took care of it all myself, pop it righ' back in. Not a noise of discomfor'." Yeah, he'd cursed enough to set a nun on fire. Don't let him fool you, Shannon. He was tough, but he wasn't that tough.

When she insisted she'd be okay, the mutant nodded once, hair swinging into his face just slightly-- it was then that he lifted those eyes up away from where he'd glanced down to her bloody tank-top again, and red met instantly with brown. He held the gaze a long time before leaning in, bringing his face intimately close with hers, turning on that Cajun charm like a light switch. Most women were like moths to the flame, completely helpless. "Je vous en prie, Princesse." His voice, when speaking his native tongue, wasn't nearly as rough or deeply toned, but the accent remained, tainting the French words with the Cajun slang, just slightly. Not enough to really harm the words, but it was clearly there, offending the romantic language with its swamp-filled origins.

"I'm Gambit." His name was breathed out near her mouth from that same intimate distance, much too close for comfort, unless she was used to this thing. Or unless she was entranced.. and the Cajun was hoping for the latter. Of course, him offering her his name, meant that she'd have to offer hers in return. And it was only then that he'd recognize her as being the girl from the journals. But until then..

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 01:48 am UTC (link)
Shannon's eyebrows raised first with concern, and then higher with incredulity. "Oh yeah? That big?" she asked, smirking. "You must be awfully strong..." she teased. Her smile faltered slightly when he mentioned the Doctor. Even though it was pretty clear that he was embellishing - to say the least, probably, she thought - she still worried for the Doctor. Then again, he probably wouldn't be joking about it if the Doctor was hurt, so Shannon let it go. "Ha, yeah right. I could practically hear Jack screaming from the caves when I was on the beach when someone reset his dislocated shoulder back on Craphole Island. You're full of it," she laughed, shaking her head at the notion that he hadn't made a single sound while popping his shoulder back into place.

When he leaned close, Shannon was taken a bit by surprise and her breath caught again as she held still. She didn't want to react to an attack if it wasn't coming, nor did she want to invite anything else. You're welcome, Princess. Her French was rusty, at best, because she hadn't used it for anything save the distress signal and the French woman's maps back on the Island since she'd been Laurent's au pair years previous, but she could apparently still automatically translate. Flatterer, that was what he was. She reflexively likened him to Jean and Leo.

Telling her his name reminded her that she had been correct in her original thought of what it was and, for that, she was proud of herself. But the pride was outdone by the discomfort of her fluttering stomach fighting her better sense to pull away completely. She could feel his breath on her lips when he spoke, he was so close. "Shannon," she replied quietly, chewing on her bottom lip.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 02:04 am UTC (link)
"Non. I lif' it, wit'ou' even 'de sligh'es' trouble. An' I save 'de day. It's what I do." Yeah right. He hated saving people. He did it anyway, but it didn't mean he liked it. He liked to look out for number one, and his own kind. These people were not his own kind. But when a very beautiful, very leggy, very ample-chested blonde was in the picture? Well. He'd be fucking Superman, if she wanted him to be. Just pass him over that spandex and the cape.

"Nice t'meet you, Shannon." Thankfully, her name survived the slaughter-house that his accent was. So many names fell victim to that silver tongue, but hers had managed to escape. Lucky girl. "We talk on 'de boar's, non?" Still, the Cajun remained intimately close, his eyes settled onto hers steadily, even though the close proximity made it impossible to actually focus on her. It didn't matter. He was getting his point across. However, the movement of her lip caught his attention and those oddly eyes lowered down.. then back up again. "Careful, Princesse," The French version of that word came out so much sweeter on his lips, "You tear your lip.. 'den you star' to blee'.. you loose consc'usness.. your hear' stop.. 'den I gotta do CPR, an' 'den you fall in love wit' me 'cause I save your life.. We get marrie', get a big house on 'de Bayou. 'Den what? Gon' have to live 'de res' of our lives out wit' me t'inkin' up crea'ive ways to use my mout'. And nei'ter of us wan' 'dat, righ?"

The smile the red-head was wearing was simply devilish, as he leaned away far enough that he could get his eyes to focus onto her face properly. "I t'ink you be jus' fine, Chere. Lil' bit of res', lil' bit of food. Some fresh clo'tes. Jus' like new." He was rocking back again, lifting his knees off the ground so that he could balance perfectly there on his toes, bare elbows coming to rest on his thighs again. But he never took his eyes off of hers. For all that they could be scary, his eyes were really amazing to look at. And he knew it.

Arrogant Cajun bastard.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 02:27 am UTC (link)
Smirking again, Shannon's eyebrows arched. "Well...that's impressive," she replied, still not entirely believing him. It sounded to her more like he was trying to impress her with false information and that was nothing new to her. He was taking it off the charts compared to what she was used to, but, still. She could tell what it was.

"In the journal, yeah," she agreed, having to close her eyes because the lack of her ability to focus properly was making her dizzy again. She'd taken a pretty decent blow to the head and had suffered an asthma attack, so it wasn't like it was going to take a lot to make her dizzy all over again. When he warned her to be careful, she immediately stopped chewing on her bottom lip only to go back to it, smiling sheepishly and blushing harder still as he went on with a fantastical tale of what would happen if she split her lip. "No, neither of us would want that," she agreed softly, opening her eyes again. "That'd be a hell of a scenario," she added teasingly as he pulled away and she relaxed again.

Tucking her hair behind her ears again even if it hadn't fallen out, she looked down and nodded. "Just like new, yeah, and the sooner, the better," she thought aloud. "You're..." her voice trailed off. What was he? Cocky? Arrogant? Confident? "Very good at flattering a girl," she finished after a short pause to come up with the right words.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 02:38 am UTC (link)
"Oui. I'm impressive." He agreed, as if she'd announced that *he* was impressive, and not that his tall tale was impressive. Regardless, that smile stayed easily on his face, eyebrows raising up towards his hairline again. So when she mentioned that neither of them would want his in-depth story of the consequences of her chewing on her bottom lip, he only laughed slightly. A throaty, hoarse noise, because he had tried to repress it, even if only a little.

When she couldn't think of the right adjective to describe him, his smile grew slowly, finally settling on a size once she decided on a statement to follow her beginning word. "You t'ink so, Chere? Good to know. Maybe I prac'ice on you more, 'de prettier 'de girl, 'de har'er it is to flatter her. An' you 'de pretties' t'in' in 'dis town." Careful, Cajun. Rouge was going to hear you from a thousand miles away, fly here, and kill you using that big damn glass box. Oh, but what a good death it'd be. And she wasn't here right now. Hell, she didn't even want him. So what was the trouble in a little flirting? There was none.

So, with that justified, Remy was slowly standing back up, a smooth, fluid movement that came from years of practice. He was careful to assure that he set his hands on his hips to better display the muscles in his arms, hips pressing forward some in a casual stance. Cocky. Arrogant. Confident. All of the above. "We shoul' still get you to 'dat Gym, 'dey got me'ic'l supplies 'dere." Words of wisdom from the uneducated Cajun. Go figure.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 02:53 am UTC (link)
Rolling her eyes playfully, Shannon shook her head. Arrogant. This guy was like Dean and Leo all rolled up in one. The thing about a person that flattered so well and so effortlessly was that it tended to make the person on the receiving end assume that it was a regular thing. That there wasn't anything inherently special about them.

Shannon was actually somewhat relieved by that. It made her feel less guilty about not just telling him to back off when she was too wrapped up in Sam to give this - however charming - stranger the attention it would've seemed to a novice receiver that he was seeking.

When he said that she was the prettiest girl in town, Shannon shook her head and leaned back against the building again, trying not to set her jaw in reflexive jealousy. "Clearly you haven't met little Miss Perfect," she said. She watched as he got to his feet again and shook her head slightly. "I can't," she told him. "Sam couldn't find his journal in the rubble and I can't leave him a note to tell him where I went if he doesn't have it," she pointed out.

She'd promised to keep him posted as to her whereabouts and then she'd betrayed her word two nights in a row. Now that the air was cleared between the two of them, she didn't intend on doing it again. "Why don't you go get the supplies and fix me up yourself, Mr. Impressive?" she said, only half-joking.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 03:05 am UTC (link)
"Lil' miss Perfec'? Non. No Miss Perfec's. What's her firs' name?" It was a tease in return to her serious statement. "Ain' been here long enough to meet everyone. Far as I'm concern', I met her. Shannon Perfec'." Didn't really have a ring to it.. but it didn't matter to Gambit.

"Sam? 'Dat's your boyfrien'?" Not a husband because there wasn't a giant rock on her finger, of course. Or, rather, that was the Cajun's logic. Lord knew, these days. And things only got weirder in the later years, as he'd find out during his stay here. "Can' have him t'inkin' you ran off wit' ano'ter, more charmin', more han'some man, righ'? Maybe he get all jealous an' buff an' wanna hun' me down? Spank me?" Bad Cajun! Bad! But he was clearly amusing himself. "I know you worrie' 'bout me, Chere. Don' wan' me to get hur'. 'Dat's why you pushin' me away. Ah, mais il a été destiné d'être! Romeo an' Julie', mon joli petite. We mus' suffer apar', for 'de good of 'de group." He even lifted a hand from his pocket to touch at his chest for dramatic effect. Somewhere, he'd gone from being serious and flirty, to flirty and playful, to just plain playful. He did that well, moved through emotions in a conversation, just as fluidly as he walked or moved.

"Peut-être il n'a pas juste été signifié pour être. You gotta stop fallin' in love wit' me." He bent forward at the waist some, offering her that easy smile again as he swiped up the jacket off the ground, red locking with brown again before straightening and hooking that coat over his good arm. "Bien. You can ask your ques'ions, Chere." Now, that had come out of no where.. but he knew she had to have them. She'd gasped after getting a good look at his eyes, after all. And she'd been studying him quite closely.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 03:20 am UTC (link)
Letting out a humorless huff of laughter, Shannon's eyebrows cocked incredulously. "I'm so far from perfect, Gambit, it's not even funny," she replied. As far as she was concerned, that much was very true. "I meant Luna. Tiny little bubble-headed blonde thing with blue eyes? Everyone's in love with her or something," she finished with a shrug which was meant to make her look impassive when the tone in her voice betrayed the hell out of the gesture.

Sam, her boyfriend? I wish I deserved a guy like that... she thought miserably. "No, he's not my boyfriend," she replied. "He's my buddy. I mean...you know, we have the buddy system going on here. Always have someone watching your back and you watch theirs, that sort of thing," she replied. There was a more complicated layer to it, but she wasn't entirely sure what that was, so she didn't feel the need to go into it with Gambit. The latter part of his statement made her smile and laugh. Sam didn't seem the type to get jealous violently if at all. At least, she didn't think so, but she was, admittedly, still in the getting-to-know-you state with him; she wouldn't know if he was, honestly. "Oh, donc vous dites que ce tremblement de terre entier ait été destiné pour nous rencontrer? Cela est un peu égoïste dans notre faveur, vous ne pensez pas?" she asked, keeping her voice very serious in spite of the ridiculousness of the question.

Really, she shouldn't be going on the way she was, but she couldn't stop herself. He was setting it up, honestly, and who was she not to play along? "Tomber dans l'amour avec vous? Comment peux-je m'aider quand vous parlez du français dans cet accent et me regardez la façon vous sont?" With that, she smirked smugly and cocked her eyebrows again. Okay, I'll bite, the look said. Hit me with your best shot, because this is nothing I haven't heard before.

But then he took her by surprise again and she looked back at him with a brow furrowed in confusion. "Questions...?" she asked. What was that supposed to mean?

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Re: 1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 03:35 am UTC (link)
"Luna? Lil' blon'e t'in'? Oui, met her. Fix up her boyfrien', Dean." He waved a partially gloved hand. "She don' smile. An' if you ask me, she kinda..." He moved his pointer finger up, curling the rest of his fingers around into a fist, and he pointed the index finger at his ear and made a circle, calling Luna (without words) a loony.

"Oui, 'dis whole earthquake, jus' for us. I set it up. An' I was plannin' to save you, as I clearly have, mon Princesse. An' whisk you away to where 'de professionals can take care of you." He made a vague gesture then, finding it hard to keep his injured arm at his side, without the coat on.. no pocket. "An' I know it gon' be har', Shannon, but you gotta t'ink of 'de chil'ren. An' de puppies. An' 'de o'ter cute t'in's 'dat are relyin' on you not to fall in love wit' me. C'est une tragédie, je sais. But we mus' continuer. Le monde se conserve turnin' 'roun'. An' no matter how much nous nous aimons, la belle fille, 'dis is our fate." Oh, poor Shannon. She'd led him right into that, with her French. She'd been assaulted with the twisted, slurred speech that was Frejun. A little bit of badly accented French with a little bit of badly accented English, neither with good grammar, all mixed up and thrown in together, with a particular drawl that came only when the two languages were butchered and smashed together in such a way. She'd be lucky to decipher any of that.

"Ques'ions, oui. You ac' like you gonna fain' when you firs' look at me. Now, I realize 'dat coul' be 'cause Je suis juste ainsi fichu joli, mais I don' t'ink 'das 'de case." Of course he'd realized her little shocked noise when she'd first looked at him. She hadn't thought he'd missed it, had she?

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 03:49 am UTC (link)
Shannon blinked. Dean and Luna were a thing now? She should've known. Too perfect for Dean to resist. It was only a matter of time before karma bit her on the ass and Sam was the next in line for Luna's attention. God, Shannon hated her... Although when Gambit made the gesture, Shannon laughed genuinely for a second before wincing in pain when her muscles and the wound in her side protested. "Yeah, really. Crazy or else just an airhead," she replied. Huh, and just like that, Gambit had won over a little piece of Shannon's heart. Not that she'd admit it to him or anyone else, but there it was.

"Ohhh," Shannon cooed. "Where the hell were you when I was stuck under a support beam?" she joked. When he slipped into a back and forth of English and French, she noted the slight change in his accent and struggled to keep up, her mental translator being thrown off every time he would move from one language to the other mid-sentence. She did, however, catch most of it after a short pause to process all of the familiar words.

"Tragedy, yes," she agreed, laughing. "I wouldn't want to be the reason the world stops spinning; it's bad enough that apparently I'm the reason for all this destruction." It felt morbid and wrong to be joking about the earthquake when there were probably people more worse-off than she and Gambit had ended up. She thought of what Jean had said in the journal about the church; she thought of Sam's friend with the fucked up leg and her smile fell away as she looked back up at Gambit, ready to move onto the next subject. Truthfully, it made her a little sick to think of how insensitive she was sounding.

"Oh," she said sheepishly, wrinkling her nose in embarrassment. "Just, uh...your eyes..." she said carefully, having the grace to look ashamed for having been caught so blatantly taken aback by the look of them.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 03:57 am UTC (link)
The Cajun laughed again when she asked where he'd been when she'd been under that support beam and he shrugged up his shoulders in an 'I don't know' gesture, but his left eye squinted in a tell-tale sign of pain when that shoulder lifted, so he relaxed it again and went on as if nothing had happened at all. "You are." He agreed, about her being the reason for all the destruction. But he picked up on her sudden change of attitude, as if she felt guilty for something. It was very rare that Gambit felt anything near guilt so he didn't quite understand why she'd act as if she felt that way.. but he was, at least, willing to drop the joking. For now.

"My eyes? Oui. 'Dey unique, non? 'Dey get me all 'de ladies." Now that was a lie, of course. Shannon had reacted the way most women reacted. His eyes scared off most ladies, but he'd never worn glasses. Never tried to hide it. He wasn't ashamed of them and he never would be, they were a part of him. And most women came to appreciate them, over time. "Don' worry, Chere, 'de ladies, 'dey gasp when 'dey meet me, an' 'dey gasp when we get to know one ano'ter." Yeah. He meant that in a sexual way. When he took off his pants, the ladies gasped -- or so he was claiming. Arrogant red-head. "Jus' a natural react'n."

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 04:07 am UTC (link)
Now that sounded like Jack to her and she blushed again in spite of herself, letting out a huff of laughter that made her side and back ache all over again. "Oh, don't make me laugh, it hurts," she pouted, giving him a mixture between a good-natured smile and a grimace of agony.

"You're pretty sure of yourself, aren'tcha, chief?" she asked, eyebrows arching in challenge again. She wasn't interested in giving him the chance to prove it; not with the way things were going with Sam as of recently and certainly not after the way things had gone when she'd given Dean the chance to prove it. But, admittedly, she missed the playful, flirtatious banter that she and Dean had had and Sam wasn't providing it in the same fashion. Gambit was. It was as simple as that, really. Shannon enjoyed the game.

"For someone so certain that they'll impress, you're sure putting a lot of effort into it," she pointed out playfully. "But then...you know that you're good looking, don't you?" she asked. The men who knew it were the worst, really. It was interesting how Gambit seemed to be both firmly lodged into the stereotype with which she'd become so unwillingly familiar and at the same time so far from it with the compliments and playful banter. Usually it was one or the other. Even Dean, who had been the closest to falling into both categories as she'd ever met, hadn't been quite as blatantly flattering as Gambit was being.

Leaning her head back against the building again, Shannon looked up at him. "You know if you're too smooth, it's a turn off to the girls who are used to being hit on, right? We're already pretty immune to it after a while, but then when you add in all that slick stuff, we start to think you're all talk and it has nothing to do with us so much as you're stroking your own ego based on our swooning in response." She raised her eyebrows at him again, then.

She gave pause then. "Why are your eyes like that...?" she ventured reluctantly, knowing it was rude but unable to stop herself from satisfying her curiosity.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 11:34 am UTC (link)
"Nothin' wrong wit' bein' sure of yourself, Chere. No one wan' a man who always need to be tol' he grea', an' be reassure' he love'. Non? You need a man who ain' gonna hesi'a'e when he pull you in agains' him an' take you for his own." The Cajun waggled his eyebrows in a smooth motion then, his smile curling at the edges in a decidedly cat-who-ate-the-canary way. It looked good on him.

"You can be too smoot'? Je ne le savais pas. D'accord." With this, he was letting his good arm settle at his side, though the left remained up on his hip to keep his shoulder stabilized. "Yo, bi'ch." Now that was amusing! Ever hear a thickly-accented Cajun try to imitate a New York accent? Well, she had now! Really, really bad. "You ass look like it be smaller 'den it wus las' time I saw you. You don' look so fat from behin' now. So I t'ink you shoul' come over here, du'e," 'Dude' sounded very bad in Cajun. Very bad. "An' let uh real man show you how to ri'e. 'Cause my hommies, 'dey 'dun tell me 'dat you easy, an' 'das good 'cause I ain' got time to sweet talk you. You comin' wit' me, you ugly cow." As he finished that, he was bending at the waist, leaning forward some and allowing his hair to swing out casually. "How's dat, Chere?" That was awful, Gambit.

Just awful.

However, when she prompted him about his eyes, he had a simple response: the same one he gave to all women who asked him. "Red is 'de color of passion. 'Dey 'dis color, Chere, 'cause I'm a passionate man."

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 11:52 am UTC (link)
"Mmm, I suppose you're not wrong," Shannon admitted. There was, however, a difference between a man who was sure of himself and a man who was arrogant about it. As far as Shannon could tell, Gambit seemed to fall closer to the base of the second tree than the first. Not that it mattered, really, all things considered, but... The latter part of his statement, coupled with the grin and eyebrow waggling sent her back into her teenage years against her will. Her ex-husband used to make that face...and he sure as hell hadn't had a problem taking her for his own. Sometimes, whether she liked it or not. she looked away from Gambit again, the mask of unaffectedness firmly in place as she built her own personal walls up around herself. She wouldn't get out and Gambit didn't have a chance in hell getting in. No one did, really, when she put the right amount of effort forth.

Though, when he went on, trying to imitate a New York accent, muddling it terribly in his own Cajun one, Shannon had to laugh again, pressing her hands against her side as she grimaced. "Cut it out," she whined, still trying to settle her laughter as the wound in her side as well as the sore muscles in her back screamed in protest. "And that's...the opposite of smooth," she added with a small smirk, looking back up at him again. "Word to the wise - don't ever tell a girl that you've heard she's easy," she finished with another painful, soft laugh.

His response to her question about his eyes was less than satisfactory. "I've known a lot of passionate men...and none of them had red eyes," she pointed out. "Only time I've ever seen red eyes is on an albino, but...you're clearly not that, so..." her voice trailed off and she winced as her body complained when she reflexively shrugged. If he didn't want to tell her, that was fine, it just didn't make sense to invite her to ask questions and then dodge the most obvious one she could possibly have, was all. At least, it didn't make sense to her.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 12:06 pm UTC (link)
When she shut down, the Cajun lifted his eyebrows but didn't let his smile fade at all. He knew he'd catch her with his next little joke, and he did. He actually got her laughing! Which, well, was apparently bad. So the red-head just grinned his apology and finally came over closer to her, slowly turning so that he could press his back against the wall and slide down to be sitting next to her up against the museum. "Maybe you righ'. I won' tell 'de girls I hear 'dey easy. But if I can' be smoot' anymore, I can' be Cajun. Gotta be from New York." He couldn't help the jab at New Yorkers.. they were just unbelievable!

"No, not Albino." He agreed simply, pushing his good hand back through his hair briefly, to get it away from his face. "Was born like 'dis, 'dough. Had 'de eyes all my life. Never been a pro'lem." Not growing up somewhere like he had, anyway. "Don' really know why 'dey 'dis color, but I know it 'cause I ain' quite like 'de o'ter men. Je suis différent. Spécial. Mieux." The last part caused his smile to lift wider again. "I can do t'in's o'ter men can'. Like backflip off of buil'in's." Because he knew she'd ask what sorts of things made him different. He could go straight to his acrobatics, bypassing that whole.. blowing things up bit, real easily.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 12:37 pm UTC (link)
Shannon watched Gambit, her eyes following him as he moved toward her and then sat down beside her. She gave him a ghost of a smile at his reply. "You can be smooth. No one said you can't. It'll work great on the girls that don't hear that stuff every day," she said with an intentionally nonchalant tone. "I mean, really, the only ones that won't think it's as smooth as you do would be the exceptionally amazing ones. You know, like me," she joked although she was careful to keep the tone serious, betraying the amusement dancing in her eyes as she said it.

A somewhat doubtful eyebrow arched briefly when he said that he'd never had a problem with his eyes being red, but she didn't ask. Maybe he was from the future. Or, like, an alternate version of Earth, where everyone had weird eyes. Who was she to judge?

Gambit said the eyes made him different, special - Shannon furrowed her brow just slightly and only for a split second. The next word she had expected to hear was "distingué." But he said better, which Shannon thought was an interesting choice of word. He mentioned acrobatics and that certainly made him different, but she wasn't sure how being a gymnast would make him better. She paused for a moment, considering her own words. "Cela signifie que vous êtes unique, mon ami, mais que signifie-t-il comment que vous êtes meilleur? Je ne suis pas sûr que je comprends," she said gently, offering him a pair of innocently curious eyes to accompany the furrowed brow.

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1530 - Shannon & Remy
[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 12:47 pm UTC (link)
"'De really amazin' ones. Like you, Chere." He agreed with that same easy-going Cajun smile. That stereotype about all Cajuns being laid back certainly seemed to be true. Louisiana, much like Jamaica, had a reputation for being a place to relax, where everyone just laid around and did nothing, until it was time to party. Well, Gambit certainly gave off that vibe. Though, at her skeptical look, he shook his head some.

"It was never a problem wit' 'de people who matter." There, perhaps that would explain it better? Sure, people on the streets.. but to his 'family', of sorts? It hadn't ever been a big deal. Not really.

When she questioned him about what made him better, the red-head took in a slow breath through his nose and a gloved hand lowered to pick up a stone from the ground and he lifted it up, holding it between his naked pointer finger, and his gloved thumb. "Je suis Le Diable Blanc. Il est qu'ils m'appellent." As he spoke, the stone trapped between his two fingers began to slowly turn pink and glow.. then the pink faded into red and the glow got brighter, almost like a small flashlight giving off a glow in every direction. "Il est ce qui me fait mieux. Mais ils l'ont mal. C'est un cadeau, pas un juron." He flicked the rock away then and as it impacted with the ground, about ten feet off, it exploded. Like a firecracker going off, throwing bits of dirt and debris in every direction, but none of it hard enough or far enough to reach them. "Je suis différent. Spécial. Mieux. Not better 'den o'ter people, 'dough. Jus' better 'dan I woulda' been."

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