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Tweak says, "emay ovelay igpay attinlay!!!!"

madeinwales (madeinwales) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-21 21:15:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 12, dean winchester, ellen ripley, glados, ianto jones, jenny schecter, location: in town, open, remy lebeau

Day 12, morning!
Who: Ianto Jones and OTA
What: Not so good discoveries
When: Day 12, morning (round 9 ish?)
Where: Town square, by the straw dummies
Rating: PG

Status: Active

Sleeping in the barn wasn't the most comfortable thing there was, but the scent of hay and the feel of Jack nearby helped sleep find him fairly easily. Unfortunately, it meant that he felt stiff as all get out (not the fun kind of stiff, either) and that he needed to actually move to get himself feeling rather like himself again.

Ianto murmured something to Jack with regards to what he was doing and where he was going and took himself back to town, stretching his legs in a walk. No jogging. He had promised. It'd jostle his arm too much for anyone's liking, including his own. And, frankly, Doctor House scared him. The man was the crankiest beast Ianto had ever met and he had spent some time with Owen, after all.

Things seemed like they had calmed down a good deal, though it was still very quiet in what was left of the town. Ianto would have given an awful lot to hear some bird song around as he walked. But in a moment, that wish was forgotten when he stumbled up the straw men. Like bonfire night, only with the people in town. There was a man dressed like Logan. There was the Doctor's suit. There .. was a dress? Oh good God. And there was Jack's coat. Well, he'd be damned in someone was going to burn Jack in effigy!

Ianto stalked over, missing the other things laying about, and proceeded to strip the Jack dummy, wrestling the coat off. He might go after the rest of the clothes, too, since burning anyone in effigy in this place was a horrible thing at best. He swore under his breath as he worked, wishing for two good hands. The wool coat was heavy as hell and looked to be fairly authentic.

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sarcasmquotes
2009-06-23 12:21 pm UTC (link)

The accent was only a moderate problem for the process minded woman. A minor hurdle to hop. Sub-routine 91 Alpha engaged. Assimilation.

"Non," Her head canted. "Dat cake? Dat's mine, messieur. Dey li' me. Dey know I li' cake." Little smile ran across her features. "Peut-être je partagerai avec vous, non ?" If he believed that GLaDOS also had some ocean front property in back of the post office to share, too.

Non-chalantly her hand came to rest on Gambit's forearm where it stroked slowly back and forth. "You woul'n go n' take my presen' woul' you?"

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-23 12:33 pm UTC (link)

The sudden copy of his accent (Oh, she was good!) threw the Cajun off-guard and he turned to face her completely, eyes locked on in a very curious manner. She hadn't been speaking in that thick Cajun accent a moment ago, but now she was and.. well.. just.. wow. So he was shifting the cake in his arm and lifting his chin a bit.

"'Dis ain' n' y' ca'e, Chere. I foun' it an' 'de ca'e b'lon' t' me. No', I willin' t' sh're wit' ya, bu' an' gon' jus' han' it o'er." Oh, poor Ianto. Poor Dean. Poor Ripley! And poor GLaDOS. When you stuck two Cajuns together? It just got worse. Much, much worse. The accent was like a fungus that could be controlled in the proper environment, but when you put it somewhere it could thrive? It did.

[*Translation for everyone's benefit: This ain't not your cake, Dear. I found it and the cake belongs to me. Now, I'm willing to share with you, but I ain't just handing it over.]

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sarcasmquotes
2009-06-23 12:47 pm UTC (link)

The Cajun's reaction made GLaDOS' confirm her subroutine and continue. When he turned she shuffled just a hair closer. Personal space? What personal space? There was no personal space here.

"Jus' cau' ya fin' some'in don' ma' i' yours," she purred with an easy smile. He was moving the cake away and with each movement she shadowed along. GLaDOS, perhaps, may not be as graceful as Remy, but her ability to mimic? Unparaleled. There was something about her anticipation subroutine that just ran flawlessly, even in this cumbersome body.

"'ow's abou' I share wit' you, non?"

Trans: Just because you find something don't make it yours.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-23 12:58 pm UTC (link)

"Oui, i' do. E'er hea' o' fi'ers kee'ers, los'rs wee'ers? I 'de fi'er an' y' 'de los'r. Mean 'dis ca'e be mi'e, chere. Je n'ai aucun intérêt de ne partager plus." Thankfully, Gambit also had no sense of personal space, so as GLaDOS came closer, he simply stood his ground, though he did shift his arm back some to keep the cake further out of her reach.. not like she couldn't reach it anyway, but still. It was the idea of keeping it out of her reach that he was going with.

And yes, this must have been amusing for the others who were watching. It was like a train wreck. You wanted to look away but just.. couldn't.

"No' wh' don' y' jus' ba'k 'de hell off an' I gon' ret'in' gi'in' y' a sli'e m' ca'e?" One last ditch attempt to offer her a piece. Hell, he might even give her half for her efforts. "Ha'f." There. Maybe that'd work.

[Translation: Yes, it do. Ever hear of finders keepers, losers weepers? I'm the finder and you're the loser. Means this cake be mine, dear. I have no interest in sharing anymore. - Now why don't you just back the hell off and I gonna rethink giving you a slice of my cake? - Half.]

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sarcasmquotes
2009-06-23 01:11 pm UTC (link)

He wanted half of her cake. GLaDOS was computing the odds very slowly. If she tried to snatch the cake and he shook the box it would no longer be perfect. She did not want an imperfect cake. If she did manage to steal the cake and she shook the box poorly then again she'd have an imperfect cake. GLaDOS licked her lips, it was an expression of thoughtfulness, or so her subroutine told her.

"Wh' y' sud'ly ac'in so 'set fer, suga'?" The one side of her mouth quirked into a sublime smirk. "'alf?" She replied, as if considering. Her subroutine told her that if there was only a 35% chance that the cake would be unharmed if she proceded with any plan other than accepting half.

"Dat wou' be mos' gen'rous," her voice lapping at his ego.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, she didn't disengage. She stayed right where she was with her hand on his forearm and that same smile of sorts. Smiles were hard when you weren't used to having a face.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-23 01:32 pm UTC (link)

Poor, innocent Dean. If only he'd stayed a little further away from the action. But he hadn't. And the 'demon' was looking for a way out of this, because that purring tone of hers? It was his like his. And he knew that she had to be lying, like he often was when he purred like that.

Bitch.

But it made him smile wider and he was stepping back just once (and though she moved with him, it didn't matter, because he'd get what he wanted), and he moved out that free hand and snagged Dean's unsuspecting (uninjured, thankfully) arm, and tugged him over quite suddenly. With a quick move of the foot and a shift of his hips, Gambit was forcing Dean between him and the enticing (that accent got him all worked up) woman trying to get half his cake. No way was he giving her half. Maybe a slice. Probably not, if he could help it. And that free arm was wrapping around Dean's shoulders, causing a bit of pain for the Cajun, but he'd deal, to protect his cake.

So, there they were, with Gambit pressed flush against Dean, up against his back, like a brick wall -- and the woman so close to Dean's front, with that cake hanging precariously in the balance, tucked under Gambit's arm so lovingly.

"'De ca'e 's mi'e." He declared again to her, purring the words in that same tone, over Dean's shoulder. But he was nice enough to spare a sudden flashing grin at his new shield. "Hi." A simple greeting. Then back to the matter at hand. "Don' sha'e well."

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hellsboy
2009-06-23 02:00 pm UTC (link)

Dean snorted laughter through his nose because his ribs were protesting any other sort of chuckling at that point. The medication he'd been taking was wearing off. He had been about to open his mouth to mention that the cake could be a bomb or something, just to throw the two squabblers off but the wind was pulled out of his throat in a woosh and gasp. He was being yanked by the fucking red-eyed man.

"Whoa, the fuck? Hey!" he hollered as he felt the man's anatomy directly behind him and the woman so close that he could see the pores of her smooth, pale skin. This was not what he'd had in mind when he'd decided cake fights were a spectator sport.

"Get off me!" he demanded when Gambit said hi and explained he didn't share well. "Dude!" he squirmed to get away but was held fast in place as he cringed as his ribs and elbow screamed with pain. There was no fight in him at that point. He couldn't do a thing but look at the woman and try to smile placatingly while growling over his shoulder at the man behind. "You're dead, demon."

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sarcasmquotes
2009-06-23 02:10 pm UTC (link)

The Red Eyed man had tried the old switcheroo. GLaDOS smiled. This subject was interesting. She'd have to keep him. Seriously. GLaDOS kept things and Red Eyes there would be part of her collection. Something to play with. The howling one between she and the object of her curiousity (and fixation) however, was actually sort of ignored.

She pressed closer; she might not be as tall as the men; but, she had some mighty long limbs. Coming in close to Dean she pressed against him, molding if you were. That jumpsuit didn't do anything to hide GLaDOS' feminity as Dean would soon realize.

However, it wasn't Dean she was after, it was her cake. Her arms came around him quickly and what did she do? She gripped the waist band of the mustant's pants and tugged him in. No, she wasn't letting go.

"Now loo' wha' you di'." She teased.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-23 02:21 pm UTC (link)

Gambit groaned when she got hold of the front of his pants and hauled him in closer against the back of Dean. That just wasn't going to be good for anyone! A nice set of firm, round buns was the same, whether you were a woman, or a demon-hating man. Don't wiggle around, Dean. Just.. don't. The cat-like Cajun was drawn to warm things, and Dean was nice and warm, so just.. don't ~~blink~~ move. Don't even ~~blink~~ move.

"Now loo' wha' I di'." He mimicked her teasing tone, that smile spreading out over his face as he rest his chin on Dean's shoulder, lifting his eyebrows. The smile stayed on his face, for the woman's benefit, but he was gritting out the next words to his captive. "Don' move uh mus'le." A simple warning, before he was shifting that cake and smoothing his hand under the box, then lifting it up and stretching it back, like a waiter balancing a tray through a large group of people. It hung precariously there on five fingers, but he knew he wouldn't drop it. He had amazing balance.

"I say I gon' gi' y' a piece, Chere. Bu' I know y' kin'. Y' wan' 'de whol' t'in' t' y'self. Ain' havin' 'dat." The Cajun warned her with an easy smile, shaking his head only a little. "Sli'e o' 'de ca'e, o' not'in'." This was simply too much fun for him. It should be illegal.

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ellen_ripley
2009-06-23 02:31 pm UTC (link)

The only reason Gambit and Glados' little game had got this far without Ripley intervening was sheer shock.

One, guy with red eyes. The hell? Two ... wierd woman who came up with an accent out of /nowhere/.

Three, that damn cake.

Her expression had gone from confounded and curious to ... grim and seriously pissed. Most of her color had washed out of her face, as well.

"Actually, you two ... " She said finally. She hadn't understood 99% of what they'd been saying, but the earliest claims of ownership of the cake had been clear enough. "I think that cake was meant for me. The Nostromo used to be the ship I was Warrant Officer of." She glared at the box. "You might want to be careful of what's in there. It might not actually be cake." Box was the right size to hide a facehugger. This place was seriously fucked up. Ripley would NOT put it past the powers that be to do something like that.

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hellsboy
2009-06-23 02:33 pm UTC (link)

The woman was right on top of Dean now and he had no way of disguising the fact that he very much realized she was a woman. What didn't help was the man behind him and the close proximity of that man's body. Because the front of him was happily situated against a rather firm female body and he wasn't even unhappy that it hadn't been his idea just then. Except the back of his body was right against... and well he knew that it didn't always have to be the prefered gender that aroused a dude if things were - oh fuck this.

"Lady, come on," he swallowed and choked slightly, jarring his compressed ribs. Did his voice just crack?? "Back up, man. I'm serious." He growled and held his breath as the confusion of senses forced a flush to his cheeks. What the fuck was this? He was like a pubescent geek or something now with every tiny movement causing his predicament to become worse. This was what cake fights reduced him to. The last thing he wanted to feel was the same thing on his ass that the woman was unfortunately getting treated to.

"Give her the fucking cake," he said between his teeth. "And get OFF me." If his hands and elbow weren't so fucked up he would have just reached around and grabbed the cake himself or hit it to the ground. That was a moot point now though. He was stuck. Do not want.

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	KICKING THIS THING LEFT <--- sarcasmquotes 2009-06-23 02:41 pm UTC (link)
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