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Tweak says, "Destiel still isn't canon."

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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]ballerinadreams
2009-06-11 12:51 am UTC (link)
Mentally, Shannon went through the list of people she'd met in person and tried to think of anyone that fit the description. Immediately half of the people she'd met were crossed off the list because they were either female or younger than their thirties. Anders flashed into her mind, but she wasn't sure his scruff counted as a beard and hoped it didn't. He was the only one she'd met in person that even came close to the description and it didn't fit well enough to cause her panic.

She relaxed again, satisfied that it wasn't Domeki and that it was probably not Anders. They were still out there somewhere and she had to tell herself that they were okay, because she couldn't think about other possibilities right now. There were people in the journals she hadn't met but had heard of or talked to. Andy, Sam's friend, was one of them. Bob, L, Jean...she knew that Jean was all right, though. There might've been more, but she was too happy that it wasn't Domeki to consider it too much further.

"I never met anyone with that description," she said quietly if only to fill the void of sound between them when he stopped talking. She looked down at him, jealousy flickering in her eyes at the way he laid there with his eyes closed. If she did the same, she'd pass out, she knew it. She was completely drained. "I don't know, wherever," she answered. "Probably right here," she admitted. "Nothing's worse than the other places I've been sleeping lately," she decided aloud.

She had been sleeping on a hard wooden floor in the freezing cold with only Sam to keep her warm, in the caves on a bed made of chunks of airline seats balanced on rocks; in a lean-to fashioned from a tarp and planks of wood...hell, she'd slept in the rain out on the sand, curled up against her bony big brother. Yeah, the prickly dead grass out here was nothing by comparison. In fact, she thought, it might actually feel more comfortable than everything else she'd endured in the past two months or so. "What about you?" she asked after a short pause.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-11 01:02 am UTC (link)
"Me nei'ter.. an' now we never will." Well, that was a depressing though, but he'd had to say it. Whoever it was that had died wouldn't be coming back. They'd never get a chance to meet him. Sure, they'd find out his name, hear about what he was like, but they'd never meet him. Never get to talk to him. Gambit was used to it, though, and death didn't really phase him. The Cajun took in a deep breath through his nose and opened his eyes when she asked where he'd be sleeping that night.. and with a curling smile, the Cajun answered easily.

"A warm, fluffy be', Chere. Wit' down pillows.. an' a warm body besi'e me. Silk shee's." Or, so he was hoping. If that tunnel led out of here? He'd be seeking those items out with a vengeance and settling in for a good nights sleep. He deserved one, after playing boy hero all day. This was definitely not his calling and he didn't enjoy it one bit. Even babysitting Sharron was bordering on too goody for him. But she was gorgeous, so he was willing to suffer for the cause. Speaking of which, he turned his head so he could look at her from where he was laying near her knee. "Hey, Chere?" He questioned her, and once he had her attention, was continuing. "Wha' you know 'bou' Cap'in Jack Harkness? He seem pretty nice, non?" It was an innocent question. Right?

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