Y’ /sho’/ y’ don’ want bullets?

rajuncajunswamprat:

This felt like his dreams. This was not his reality. There was already a Remy LeBeau in this reality, but he wasn’t doing so well and that was why the second one was now buying a massive amount of ice cream and chocolate bars of every flavour for his other-self’s pregnant girlfriend. The city was very much the same, so it took only about five solid minutes to get from the grocery store to the Institute on his bike, if that is in fact where everyone is because if we’re just going to keep poking holes in the fourth wall, the puppeteer can’t ever remember shit with three simultaneous universes and three characters.

Locating Neena was the easy part. Maybe it was some sort of strange DNA honing beacon, but the younger Gambit located her, walking up and presenting two spoons. “Hé, Nee. Got y’r ice cream.” If they couldn’t drink together - pregnancy, Why!? - they could do the next best thing and eat far too much sugar and dairy than any five human children should ever consume in their lifetimes. Stress relief is great.

Neena was fuming. Fuming with anger. She hadn’t been this angry in a good, long while, and she’d actually had no need to feel it at this point, but she did. Remy had done the one thing she feared most after losing him. Acted on his flirtatious nature. Kissed another woman. From the moment their relationship had started, she’d feared this, she’d feared he’d run off with another woman, which is why she’d been so protective over him in the first place. And now that she was pregnant with his twins, her world seemed to be crumbling down. She really couldn’t pull herself out of the mind-set that he was going to run off with another woman. And it tore her apart. As if her emotions weren’t horrible enough already, her abdomen was particularly unsettled today, as if the twins were revolting. Figures.

The other Cajun was a welcome distraction and comfort to her, especially since he’d brought her food to still her cravings, at least. And chocolate was always good for comfort. She gave him a hint of a smile, but it was more a sad smile than anything, though it was clear that she tried to put her best efforts into looking cheerful for him. She really wasn’t.

“You’re awesome, y’know that? C’mon, let’s take a walk. You can go back to the Institute later if y’want, I ain’t goin’ back there.”

She swung the small bag of ammo and personal belongings she’d brought with her over her shoulder and began walking in the direction of the exit, fully set on heading for higher grounds before another shitstorm of idiocy would hit.

tagged:

rajuncajunswamprat

Luckiest Mercenary Alive

Y’ /sho’/ y’ don’ want bullets?