Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

Remy LeBeau, Master Thief, mutant, and extraordinary lover, had once again battled his way through the arctic tundra outside. He'd dodged the polar bears, skirted around the mating penguins, avoided the saber tooth tigers, and out run the wooly mammoths to get to the safety (and warmth) that the theater provided. He'd gone out earlier that morning with Dean to collect up plenty of food and haul it to the museum. He'd been sure to eat some, so at least he wasn't starving anymore.

However, that would change once he saw all the food.

He was complaining as he came through the door of the theater, bitching about the sudden temperature change in French, and wondering how they expected him to survive. He had hugged the duplicate of Jack Harkness' jacket closer to his thinner frame and panted out a few breaths once inside. But then he saw the food and red eyes got wide.

Now, the Cajun wasn't a stupid man, but nor was he very cautious when he probably should have been. He was moving out cold, gloved hands to snag up a piece of fruit and immediately took a bite. Oh, that tasted amazing. Really amazing. He snagged himself a plate and filled it with food before snagging a glass of beer and going to sit in one of the theater seats, letting out a contented breath. It wasn't until he was completely finished with his plate (and after he'd had a second one, and a few more beers), half an hour later, that he finally stretched out. He had taking a few moments to rather violently kick out the plastic arms of a few of those seats, to make five in a row that had no arms-- a perfect, long bed. And after some jimmying with the locking mechanism on the seats, he was able to get them to all stay down. Oh, that was nice. He had his own little bed here.

Really, the red-head could make himself comfortable anywhere. He was resourceful. Just look at his bed in the barn!

But, after having realized there was too much here for him to eat by himself, and after trying to smuggle it out of the theater and seeing it rot (that had been disgusting and a horrible tragedy), he'd finally decided to flip open his journal and make a few notations in it.

The other occupants of Vas Captio were lucky that he'd had a few (six) beers, or he may not have told them at all. But right now, he was a little tipsy and not in his right mind. Everyone, mark your calendars, the Cajun was going to share.