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

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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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[info]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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