InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I want a Scooby snack!"

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-10 23:23:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 10, location: museum, remy lebeau, shannon rutherford

Who: Shannon and Remy
What: Gambit eventually makes his way back to the museum.
Where: The museum
When: 1826 - Day 10
Rating: PG13 - Just in case
Status: Complete

Gambit had left the museum just an hour and a half ago, having backed off when Sam had shown up to watch over Shannon. But the Cajun had stared a while at the Post Office, before walking around to look at the carnage of the town, then he'd stood and stared at the felled clock tower for a while. Eventually, he'd left it and had headed back to the museum, for the items he'd been planning to get in the first place. Sam had, for all intents and purposes, chased him off that first time. So he had never got the chance to explore the museum. He was going to go looking for the Doctor's jacket, the Doctor's journal, and a few of those paintings. Definitely a few of those paintings. Then he was going to get the Hell out of this place.

However, when he approached the museum, he was surprised to find that Shannon was still there, and with Jack Harkness, no less! Jack, though, after an easy greeting, had left to do things that needed to be done, and Gambit was once again left babysitting the injured girl. The aftershocks were still shaking the ground every now and then, so going inside wasn't a wise idea on anyone's part, so he avoided the steps leading up to the museum and came back over to Shannon to stand in front of her, hands pushed down onto the pockets of his jacket. He'd wear that thing the rest of his life. Really.

"You still look tire', Chere. How your side feelin'?" His smile was easy, as it always was, and he tilted his head to the side, hair falling into his face.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 11:08 pm UTC (link)

"Oh, wit' a concuss'n? I say.. no more 'den seven'y two hours, Chere." He was pulling her leg, the smile said as much. "Only a few more to go, non?" But after he was satisfied she'd got the joke, he shrugged his good shoulder up and pulled his hands out of his pockets, but remained standing instead of sitting. He was starting to ache all over. The adrenaline had worn off and Gambit was starting to hurt in places he hadn't before. "I t'ink mi'nigh' be long enough, you can sleep 'den." Promised as he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes lowering to her side to inspect the covered wound, looking for any sign that she was bleeding out through it. But it looked alright. She was probably clotting up just fine.

"Non, I come here to get into 'de museum, but here you are, still. I tol' you to go to 'de gym, didn' I? Sam don' lis'en so well, hm? Kid need a spankin'." Kid. He called everyone a kid, despite their age. It probably wasn't what he meant. It was probably a bad translation, on his part. A word he thought meant something else.

"But now here I get stuck wit' you? Mal spectacle." Complained with a smile. He really didn't mind that much. "An' besi'e, I tell you, Chere, I ain' here for 'de exci'ement. I'm here for 'de view." Even as he said that, red eyes were dropping to her legs in a meaningful way, before they came back up to her face. "You fin' somet'in' new to bi'ch 'bou', 'dough, non? Maybe 'de tremors? 'De lack of food in 'dis place?" Poor Gambit! He was on his second day here and had yet to actually go inside the convenience store and raid it for food. He'd passed by it on his way into town, but that had been the last time he'd been there. It hadn't even dawned on him that there was good in there. Needless to say, he was a very hungry Cajun.

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ballerinadreams
2009-06-10 11:26 pm UTC (link)

"Seventy-two hours?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" she gasped, eyes wide. ...and then proceeded to feel stupid when he asked his next question and the smile on his face registered in her mind and let her in on the joke. "That's so not funny," she said, although her gentle huff of embarrassed laughter (accompanied by the wince from the twinge of pain) betrayed the words. She looked up at him with hope in her eyes when he suggested midnight would be a good time for her to finally fall asleep. "If I can make it that long," she murmured.

"I'll be fine," she insisted. "It's not that bad; there's probably worse," she added. The fact that she didn't think she probably merited the sort of attention that some other people probably did went unsaid. The thing was, Shannon knew there were only two doctors now with Martha missing. Someone had to bite the bullet and suck it up while they took care of the people more seriously injured. ...assuming the doctors themselves were still in one piece, that was... "Sam's brother's out there somewhere," she defended Sam's reasoning for not having dragged her to the gym against her will. That was the last thing she wanted to be doing; fucking walking around.

Rolling her eyes playfully, Shannon yawned and rested her head back on the building. "Yeah, poor you, getting stuck with me," she teased. When he spoke again, she straightened her head and looked back up at him, not missing the way his eyes moved to her legs. Shannon raised her eyebrows at him.

"There's plenty of food, but it's all at the gas station," she sighed. "Actually, I have a few granola bars and a bottle of water if you wanted to hazard going into the museum, first door on the left down the hallway. There's a backpack in there somewhere, just barely pulled out of what's left of the ceiling..." she offered. "You can have one, if you want; I wouldn't hate to eat if you wanted to play fetch," she said hopefully, giving him a doe-eyed expression and innocent smile.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 11:40 pm UTC (link)

He smiled wider when she finally realized that he'd been joshing her, then shook his head and came a step closer, walking much better on that ankle now, despite the deep bruising. His boot had been the only thing to save him from breaking that delicate set of bones. "You can make it 'dat lon', Chere. We gon' make sure you do. An' you righ', 'dey people in 'dere, some of 'dem are worse. Boy run over by deer, guy wit' a leg missin' -- E'war', his leg missin'." Clarrified. "Two guys been crush' by 'de ceilin' in 'de Thea're. Oui, 'dey doin' bad, bu' you ain' no ray of sunshine, nei'ter, Chere."

The Cajun rolled his eyes upwards when she defended Sam, but eventually brought them back down to her. "You defen'in' him? You shoul'n' hafta. Don' worry. He be back, I'm sure." And he'd see Gambit off.. again. "Poor me." The red-head reflected with that same easy grin. He was coming another step closer, and might have sat down, but then she was mentioning that she wanted him to go into the museum. He'd jump at that opportunity, because he wanted to get in there and grab the Doctor's coat, and his journal, and a few select things (like those paintings) from his make-shift bedroom. He liked those paintings. And he'd be taking them when he left this place, as soon as he got back to the Post Office...

"Sure, Chere, I get 'dem. You jus' wai' here, non?" By this time, everyone was safely out of the abandoned museum, and the Cajun was circling around and hopping up those steps, before slipping in the already open door.

It wasn't for another fifteen minutes that Shannon would hear anything at all.. and it wasn't a good noise. The shifting of the concrete inside, then a loud sound of it impacting with the ground, and a bit more of a collapse, in a small aftershock that couldn't have had worse timing. However, when dust began billowing out of the partially open door, the coated red-head was coming out with it, coughing and waving his empty (bad) hand to clear away the dust. Once down the stairs, he let out a breath and flashed her a winning smile. He was covered in dust, but.. alive. And none the worse for it. He had two rolled up paintings under his arm (the third, unfortunately, had been ruined), and the Doctor's coat wrapped around them, the journal safely tucked inside. And that backpack draped at his elbow, with the collected items inside it.

They were all dropped not far from her feet and the Cajun stretched some before sitting down across from her in the grass, wiping some of the dust away from his face and out of his hair. "Your effec's, Princesse."

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