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Tweak says, "Happy birthday to me, only not"

vas_captio_npc (vas_captio_npc) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-07-10 22:34:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 15, fina, ianto jones, jack harkness, jenny schecter, lexie grey, location: theatre, open, remy lebeau

Day 15: 10:02 AM, Theater
Who: Wide Open to anyone
What: A party, just for you!
Where: The Theater
When: 10:00 AM - 12:00PM
Rating: PG

Status: Active

They'd had some trying days, hadn't they, these guests of Vas Captio? They needed a rest, or at least something warm to eat, right? Don't worry, dear ones, those men behind the curtain care very, very much for your mental and physical well being. Yes, yes we do!

For those brave souls who heeded the call into the theater they would find it lavishly decorated. Wreaths and ribbons strung from the balconies, linens were laid out on a long banquet table. Atop the table there are several large platters filled with an array of hot, steaming foods, fresh fruits and vegetables, and ice cold drinks. More specifically characters will find: Hamburgers, Spaghetti, a large crock of chicken noodle soup, a sushi platter, a fruit platter, a large bowl of fresh mixed greens, steaks, and a large vat of chilli. There is beer, and cold water, and <i>coffee</i>.

"Welcome Survivors!" Proclaims a banner strung across the stage.

Captives are welcome to eat and drink to their hearts content. There is nothing wrong with the food dears. Problem is, if you try and take the food out. You see, the moment that you cross the threshhold with your salad or your steak or your chilli, or even your beer it rots. Really rots. The Sushi turns to blackened sludge, the lettuce wilts and goes slimey, and the chicken noodle soup turns and odd mix of black and green as the noodles fall apart before your eyes. Sorry, you all aren't allowed to share.

Party time ends at Noon. Don't worry, we won't let you forget.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-11 07:43 pm UTC (link)

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.

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skipped3rdgrade
2009-07-12 02:07 am UTC (link)

Lexie hadn't eaten at all yesterday following her bout with the chocolate in the pharmacy. In fact, even thinking about that whole thing had made her stomach roll in a way that made her mentally promise she'd never touch anything chocolate ever again out of fear her stomach might decide to rebel.

Pulling on her sweatshirt Lexie left the gym. She didn't know where Elliot and Dean had gotten off to; but, she couldn't just sit there all day. Maybe they'd turn up in the Theater? Made sense to her - if there was food, real food; well, Lexie wasn't going to turn her nose up at it. A girl can only live on chocolate, water, and chips for so long. God I hope this guy wasn't kidding.

Pushing open the double doors and slipping quietly down the aisle, Lexie's jaw dropped first at the decorations and then at the table of food. She didn't see Gambit there, lounging like a kitty cat in his seats. No, she was too transfixed on that banner. "Survivors?" She asked, shaking her head. The very notion making her appetite slide away quite abruptly.

"Gee, thanks."

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-12 02:13 am UTC (link)

"Welcome." Came the voice from those chairs. But even with that one word, the accent was unmistakable. Cajun. However, Gambit wasn't sitting up, he was sprawled out on his stomach and contentedly warm, thanks to the beer he'd had. And he was drawing in his journal. Just.. don't even mention that, if you saw it, Lexi. Or he'd draw you.

"'De foo' ain' poison or not'in', bu' you can' take it ou' 'de door, or it rot an' fall 'par'. Ain' pretty." Only after he said that did he push up onto his hands and look up over the backs of the seats. "Lexie, non? You was lookin' f' Dean? Me an' him wen' to 'de house earlier. Grab some foo' from 'dere, ain' seen him since." Wouldn't it figure that it was this strange, red-eyed man who'd seen Dean last..

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skipped3rdgrade
2009-07-12 02:22 am UTC (link)

'Welcome!' She heard and Lexie physically yelped and jumped and she turned to spy the Cajun caught up on that row of seats like a little kid and his coloring book. Dammit! Lexie thought, still quite petrified of the red eyed man. Sure, some people could take physical abnormalities in stride. They could look at them like they weren't looking at them. In Lexie's mind, red eyes meant the devil. She was looking at a man with red eyes. This is not normal.

Lexie clammed up, crossing her arms. "I'm not hungry." Good lie, Lex.

Then Gambit said something that caught her attention. He asked if she was looking for Dean. "No..." Slight lie. She'd put up a note in her journal asking if anyone had seen him; though, she wasn't at the point of searching the town for him. "Oh, I didn't know he'd gone out for the food..." She said, looking back toward the door.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-12 02:36 am UTC (link)

"You know, starin' ain' poli'e, chere. You gon' keep lookin' at me like 'dat an' I'm gon' star' feelin' like I'ma freak or somet'in'." It was a light tease and he languidly pushed up, stretching his back some as he did. Oh, that made him feel light headed. No more alcohol, Cajun, or you were going to throw up all that food you'd just eaten. With a little yawn, he rubbed at the side of his face. He was just about ready for a nice nap, thanks to his full stomach.

"Wasn' you jus' askin' in 'de book wha' anyone seen him? Jus' sayin' I seen him. Wen' for 'de foo', been back 'fore light, he shoul'a been back to where-ever he been sleepin' lon' 'fore now. You worrie' chere?" That was asked with a little curl of his lips. "Ain' gon' hur' you, jus' go an' try 'de foo', tas'e good, promise." And with that, he was turning and relaxing back onto his make-shift couch again, stretching his body like an overgrown lap cat. Ooh, that was nice.

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skipped3rdgrade
2009-07-12 02:44 am UTC (link)

Lexie looked away, her expression far from sheepish and more along the lines of frustrated. She'd been caught staring and that was poor form. "Sorry," she coughed. "She shook her head, looking back up again. "Listen, I have to ask. And I only ask because if I don't ask I'll just keep looking at you funny. And I don't want to look at you funny because you're stuck here just like the rest of us. I mean, I think you're stuck just like the rest of us, but I'm not sure. I mean, you could be part of this whole thing, right? I mean, I don't really know who you are. But, I guess what I'm trying to ask--" Lexie breathed. In the span of that entire run on sentence with little pause and words that ran together as she spoke entirely too quickly she finally took a breath. "What are you?"

Lexie looked to the table and then back to the mutant. "I didn't even know he'd gone," this implied, of course, that Lexie had known where he was before he went for food and that she was probably with him. Usually people weren't labelled as gone if they weren't with you. Another look to the food. Not yet, not until she knew what she was dealing with.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-12 02:55 am UTC (link)

"Oui, stuck here 'de same as you. An' non, ain' par' o' 'dis whole t'in'. An' I'm wha' 'dey call a mutan'." He sat forward again, crossing one leg and letting the other dangle, half indian-style. Casual, comfortable. That was the way he liked it. "I'm uh human, jus' like you, bu' I go' somet'in' in me make me differen' lookin', 'dey say it's uh muta'aion of 'de human DNA. So I ain' technically human, I guess-- we a differen' species, bu' still close enough we ain' comple'ly differen'. An' don' go t'inkin' I look 'dat differen', 'cause I don'. Seen big blue furry guys 'fore. Jus' my eyes. An' non, ain' a demon. M' from Loui'zee'anna, on 'de Bayou. Raise jus' like you in uh family. Ain' no differen'. Jus' don' look 'de same." He leaned back more comfortably into the chair backs behind him once he was done with his speech, eyebrows lifting slowly.

"Ques'ions?" Because, apparently, he was willing to answer them. Get a few beers in him and Remy sure loved to talk.

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