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

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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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[info]inside_mind
2009-06-20 10:55 pm UTC (link)
The eyes opened, caught by the goggles and eyes behind them. It was an interesting notion to have that sort of power. To cause realization and action. This was a new frontier for the Insider. Something the public persona had only ever pretended to be capable of and gotten away with when bluffing because no one could call out someone like that for faking it. No, the public persona's attachment from and with others was a fluke really. They might have cared but they didn't know. Had no clue about the reality and if they did it would have been the end of a life. One the Insider was keen on keeping.

To find an ally, one who seemed so genuinely sure that he wanted to ally himself. Well that was also a fluke. No chance in hell the powers that be had done that on purpose. It was accidental and probably to their detriment that there be someone in this place who could commiserate with a traitor. Someone who wouldn't betray a betrayer.

The Insider took a brief risk. Perhaps the action would be telling. Perhaps it would not be, depending on what one's moral compass was. Perhaps it would just be as confusing as the reassurances that the people in Vas Captio were not Remy's. It didn't matter right now as the Insider pressed a kiss through the thin mask against the Cajun's cheek.

Whispering, the voice said, "I know enough not to trust you. I know enough to trust you. It is a conundrum, n'est-ce pas? We are alike and we are different. I cannot charm anyone. I would be completely dependent upon you were I to put myself into your hands." The gloved hand dropped away from his throat to rest on the man's chest.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-20 11:07 pm UTC (link)
When he felt that mask press against his cheek, the Cajun allowed his eyes to close partially again, clearly having enjoyed the feeling. But when it was gone, his eyes opened again and he turned his head a bit, finally, to be facing the other. "Conun'rum." He agreed quietly. "I ain' Charm you, Initié." He couldn't, though. Not if the other person knew about it. If the intended target knew he could do it, it was a worthless power. It was all about suggestion, but it was so strong that he could influence a great many people, as long as they never figured it out. That was its drawback. And it was a dangerous one.

"Oui, you woul'." He agreed quietly. "Bu' righ' now, I'm depen' on you." Finally, he was lifting a hand, gloved (and naked) fingers curling into that jacket to get a grip, but he didn't tug, didn't charge, and didn't attempt to remove it. He was just holding on. "An' now I go' you." It was like a hollow threat. Holding up a store with your thumb and finger in the shape of a gun. But really, he could have killed the Insider. He could have charged the jacket and left it to blow, right in that instant. But he didn't. Maybe he was proving that he wouldn't, maybe he wasn't even thinking of it, maybe he just wanted to hold onto something. Whatever it was, he wasn't letting go.

"Come sleep wit' me, on 'de couch." Insisted quietly again. "Wit'ou' 'de mask, an' 'de coa', an' 'de worry. Ain' gon' know you can trus' me, 'til you fin' out. 'Til you le' me prove it. Permettez-moi s'il vous plaît de vous montrer. I ain' always a liar." Contrary to popular belief. "If no' 'de couch, 'den somewhere else. I ge' my coa' an' follow." He'd go where the Insider led him, he was willing to follow, not knowing where he was being led to. It was a scary prospect. But really, during all of this, he wasn't helpless. He always had a weapon. He was a weapon.

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