InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "it is what it is"

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-19 23:47:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 12, insider, location: barn, remy lebeau

Who: Remy LeBeau & The Insider
What: The Insider checks up on Remy and Remy notices.
Where: In the tunnels beneath the barn.
When: 0108 - Day 12
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete

It had been a long day for Gambit. The barn had been.. sort of taken care of, and was more livable now. He'd had to sacrifice his make-shift room, so he no longer had the privacy that he had the following night. Instead, he'd let Jack, Ianto and the Doctor have a few of the couches that were closer to the standing walls, beneath the cover of the creaking tin roof. Gambit had chosen, instead, to sleep on a couch near the open part of the barn, where there was a nice breeze. In order to do that, he'd had to move the couch there -- which moved it off of the trap door, only by a few feet. No one had taken notice, really, because it was so perfectly seamless, melding into the floorboards. And Remy hadn't given it a second thought. He'd just wanted to push the couch into the shade of a tree hanging over the barn (to block out the dim moonlight) and into a nice spot that would let the wind blow through. Sure, it wasn't as safe here.. something could fall on him, a wild animal could eat him, or some crazy, beautiful Amazon could capture him and drag him off to her secret mountain lair and force him to make sweet, sweet love to her on a regular basis, every hour on the hour, for the rest of his life, while torturing him with fantastic head while they were taking breaks in between....!

That would be just.. awful.

Hopefully, if anyone had to suffer that terrible, awful fate, it would be the unfortunate Cajun who had picked the spot away from the others, reclined on the couch on his back, sock-covered feet propped up on one arm, while his head rested on the other, as a pillow. His boots were next to the couch, neatly lined up, and his belt was folded and tucked into them. He'd worn his jeans and his tank-top to sleep, and was using his leather trench coat as a sheet of sorts. It was actually pretty comfortable.. but then, the cat-like Cajun could have slept on a flight of stairs and been fine. He was boneless and languid that way, all lanky limbs and grace, even sprawled out now on the dingy yellow couch, head lolled some to the side, a bit of that long red hair blowing some into his face. He'd picked a nice, breezy spot alright. Thank goodness for that. But the young man was a light sleeper, despite how easily he could pass out (like a narcoleptic), and it was often that the smallest noises could wake him.

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inside_mind
2009-06-19 11:25 pm UTC (link)

As quiet as a mouse, the Insider crept through the tunnels, picking through the darkness as lithe and careful as a cat would maneuver a dark alley. Instead of the glowing eyes of a cat, the Insider wore the compact night vision goggles of a distant future, face covered in the thin, yet seemingly magical face scrambling mask. Little to no sound issued from the boots worn, in spite of the stumble here and there due to injury in the recent earthquake. It had been too bad that there had been no rescue, no solace from that. Being injured was not conducive to stealth.

It was with as much silence as possible that the Insider slid up through the trap door into the barn. The black jacket worn made it next to impossible to see the form, let alone the correct shape of it, as the Insider let the door fall as quietly shut as old, dry wood would go.

Protected eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight as the night vision goggles were removed at the sight of the red-haired man asleep on the couch so near. The Insider stood, breathless, to watch the sleeper. The mission had been to slip from the barn and into the woods for a new destination unattainable by the underground tunnels. It hadn't been expected that the one who had been so flirtatious via the journals and so considerate as to leave food would be right there in view. The Insider ventured forward two steps and stood over the sleeping figure. One hand reached out as though to touch his face but withdrew. This was not the time or place for connections. Especially with the other three sleeping not far away.

The Insider began to back away again into the darkness, bending to find the release for the trap door again.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-19 11:46 pm UTC (link)

It was the soft noise of the trap door lifting and the way it made the air push back towards him, that woke the Cajun. Not in a start. Remy rarely woke up all at once, unless he was being dumped out of a bed, or woken by an angry woman who wanted to know why he was still there. That hadn't happened in a while, come to think of it. Not in at least a month, anyway. And it was one onyx and ruby eye that slid open first, staring up at he moon that had shifted to be shining down on him now, avoiding the branch that had been offering shade before. Huh. The other eye slowly opened, and he breathed in deeply through his nose and stretched his legs out. It was still night time, so why had he woken?

It wasn't until he caught the bit of movement out of the corner of his eye that he turned his head to look to his right. He just barely caught the closing of the trap door, and it caused him to sit up, pushing his coat off of him. His shoulder instantly began to protest, but he only rubbed his gloved hand against the bare flesh and moved on silent, sock-covered feet for the trap door. A glance was spared to the others sleeping on the couches not far away, then he turned to look briefly into the woods, where he knew Logan was.. then he was very carefully lifting that trap door and slipping down the steps as well, bending at the waist to be able to close the door behind him before he'd even come all the way down the steps.

Of course, this left him in complete and utter darkness and the Cajun shuffled a step forward, one hand moving out to make sure he wasn't going to walk into anything. He considered lighting something up, but didn't want the light shining through the floor boards of the trap door and alerting the others. So, against his better judgment, the red-head remained completely in the dark, sliding another sock-covered foot forward in a sickeningly graceful move. The top button of his jeans were undone, causing them to slide lower on his hips, but he'd pull them up in a moment. Right now, he was more worried about not having his head taken off by a stranger. A stranger he hoped was L'Initié.

"Sont vous là?" Quietly asked into the darkness.

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