InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Ranger on a one way trip."

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.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

inside_mind
2009-06-20 12:43 am UTC (link)

The Insider watched Remy struggle with the concept presented. It looked as though he didn't want to trust what he was being told. Which was more than understandable. The Insider was not offended. Just as the Insider was concerned with possibly being caught and outted, so Remy would justifiably be afraid of being attacked so that the mysterious identity could remain safe. It was a closely kept secret that the Insider was not naturally violent. There would be no attack but there would be no reassurance either. Better the guise be in place than be in danger of being underestimated.

"Smart? Take enough tours of irrelevant monuments, caves and mysterious places on school trips and you learn all manner of things." Which was true. That was where the tidbit about retinas burning out in pitch blackness had been learned.

The Insider smiled beneath the mask. It was an unintentional, natural reaction to the charming way in which the man spoke. There was something about being played and knowing you were being played that appealed to the Insider. It meant there was the possibility of lively conversations and adventurous ideas lurking beneath the surface. It was a tension between them that was different from most personal tensions the Insider had known. This was playful and serious at the same time. A different dance in the darkness. One more welcome than the constant shifting of positions along the walls of the tunnels.

"Perhaps I will run off, perhaps I won't. Perhaps you'll figure out what you want to know and it won't matter either way. Non?" the voice rasped in the velvet darkness. Was it just the imagination or was the air growing thicker? Was there an electric hum of anticipation? The Insider was primed to either run or laugh. It all depended on what Remy was going to do or say next. The game was afoot and it was great fun.

"I'd like to see you try to chase me in your stocking feet. There are some nasty outcroppings along these tunnels in places." The smile was transparent in the tone even if the voice was graveled and disguised.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

ace_of_clubs
2009-06-20 12:56 am UTC (link)

"Oui, an' I trip on 'dem, cut myself, an' blee' to deat' an' no one ever know. Be a shame. I look so good in uh suit, be pretty at my fune'rl, non?" His grin stayed easily in place though he took a careful step forward, fingers on his good hand curling as he itched to charge up the glove he was wearing. To get some light. But he knew it'd just make the other run, and that wasn't something that he wanted to happen. He wanted L'Initié to stay right here. He wanted to talk to the other.

Remy's eyes opened involuntarily, needing to try to look around again, in case there was new light. But there was nothing to see, and the darkly tinted eyes were closing again, as he swallowed. The muscles in his neck helped push it down, and he rolled his good shoulder, then shook his good arm, trying to ease out the tension there. He didn't like being all bunched up like this. He was a relaxed, easy-going person by nature. So this was odd for him, he was only ever on-edge when fighting. And this certainly wasn't a fight.

However, when he found his voice again, it was quieter this time, as if afraid the others would hear.. though, if they hadn't come down into the tunnel with the sound of the crashing crate, they likely weren't going to come down at all. But if Remy had wanted to alert them, it would have only taken a yell. A shout. A burst of light.

"Wha' you doin', Initié?" it was clear, though, that he didn't want to know what the other was doing right now, it was a more general question. "'Dese people, 'dey ain' happy. You taun'in' a angry beas', mon ami," Someone needed to teach this boy proper grammar. No. Really. They did. "Vous pouvez me venir." You can come to me, he'd said. "You be safe. I ain' no kitten, d'accord? M' dang'r's. 'Dey don' know you anyway, oui? Ain' be no trouble you to come share my couch, cela? Ain' no one gotta know. I ain' gon' say not'in'. Jus' you an' me. Miss 'de warm body nex' to mine, hm? Avancer. Or I go wit' you, maybe you gotta ma'ress?" Silk sheets, and room service-- No. Now wasn't the time for that. No fantasizing about room service, Remy LeBeau.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -