Cammie & Kurt: Laundry, Tattoos, and Con-artists

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

Kurt helps Cammie with the mundane chore of laundry and fiscal possibilites are discussed. Like gambling. And theft. Later, motorcycles and tattoos.

Balance was the trick, and right now she understandably wasn’t very good at it. Her left leg had pain shooting up at it as she tried to pull her sheets off of her bed. They were way past their laundry date, as shown by the obviously greenish hue. But it was hard enough to do just about anything right now, laundry wasn’t an exception to this at all.

"I had thought", Kurt said mildly from the doorway, "you might have learned by now that some things are easier with help."

Cammie paused, “Yeah, I know that. But not many people should get subjected to this smell, you know?” the sheets didn’t exactly smell good.

"That is why you come to me. My nose can deal with my sulphur, it can deal with your sheets." He moved forward into the room, reaching to take hold of them.

Cammie nodded, “Yeah, sorry, I haven’t exactly been thinking clearly.” It was hard to with the constant pain. She fumbled with the crutches, “Time to see if I drank all my bleach. Oww…”

"If you did, we can get more", Kurt started, then steadied her. "Sit down, Cammie. I will fetch it."

She plopped down in her computer chair, “You know, this broken bone thing sucks ass.”

"It certainly does", he agreed wholeheartedly on his way to the kitchenette. "But it must be a good way to healing, by now."

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did,” Cammie said, “But it was broken in three places. So it’s going to hurt for awhile now – unless I misunderstood what the doctors have been telling me.”

"They tend to be clear about these things." He found a bottle of bleach that was almost half full and straightened up triumphantly. "Here. To the bathroom?"

“The laundry room,” she said, “I should put my shirts or something in there too. But I don’t want a bunch of my clothes to suddenly be white.” Her wardrobe was mostly dark colors.

"Perhaps more of a heavy-duty detergent for them?" Kurt suggested. "You spend less time in your shirts, after all."

“Yeah. But I’ll worry about that later. I still have some clean clothes,” she said, putting her crutches under her arms, “Time to hobble towards the laundry room. I get bonus points if we knock people out on the way there from the smell.”

That got a snort. "If we are playing that game, ferals do not count. They have an unfair disadvantage."

“Damn. I was going to see if we could walk past Kyle ten times,” Cammie returned.

"That is because you cheat."

“It’s not cheating. It’s using my brains and Kyle’s nose to play this game creatively,” Cammie said happily.

"And I say it is not allowed", was the firm response. "We should be nice to Kyle, or he will not fix things for us."

“Hmm, well, if I’m really mean to Logan training sessions get worse. Not that they’re bad right now – but he won’t forget me leaving evil sheets,” Cammie mused. “Damnit, does this mean I can’t cheat? My life is over!”

"You cannot cheat in this game", Kurt confirmed. "There is always cards, though."

“One day, I’ll beat you. You and hiding cards in your tail. That’s just evil,” Cammie said as they paused outside the laundry room, “But fiendishly clever. You know, we could make a ton of money if we went into business. Evil business.”

"I am not so sure I have the mind for real business", he admitted. "I did run three-card monte games as a boy, but that is hardly the same thing."

“Duh, to us that is business. I liked stealing from three card monte tables, so it all works out in the end,” Cammie said brightly.

"I think that sounds fair. A real short con artist would notice himself being robbed."

“Or an attentive one. Or a smart one. A lot of the guys running those rigs aren’t very smart,” she said, opening a washer, balancing on her crutches, “We could put all of New York out of business.”

"And many of them would even deserve it", he said cheerfully, stepping over to shove the sheets in.

“Nothing like stealing from the bad thieves,” Cammie said, “And the money could go somewhere that isn’t the pockets of an asshole.”

"We are a little conspicuous, though", Kurt pointed out. "Without image inducers, that is. I do have plans for my father's businesses, however."

“Well, that’s why you distract and I’ll be the snatch ‘n grab gal,” Cammie said with a bit of pride at the idea. “What type of plans?” she asked, leaning heavily on the washing machine to take the weight off her leg.

"I mean to take them away from him. There is a man in Europe... but I cannot say too much. Not until the scheme is actually complete."

“Kurt that will make you rich, won’t it?” she asked, “Because if it does, I want a motorcycle. Please,” she said joking. Mostly.

"If I can work it so that the money comes to me, and not simply away from him", Kurt promised, "you will have the best motorcycle his money can buy."

“If I knew you were really serious I wouldn’t have asked for anything,” Cammie said.

"But I might have bought it for you anyway." He smiled faintly. "It is still a big 'if'."

“Everything in life is a big if,” Cammie said simply, “But a motorcycle would be cool. I have to admit that. When my leg heals up.”

The smile turned to a grin. "I doubt anything will be finalised before that."

“Yeah, these things do take time. Just means I’ll have plenty of time to decide on a kickass leather jacket and a good biker name,” Cammie said happily, “Though tattoos are out of the question. I’m not killing anyone for the sake of body art.”

"Perhaps we can find a mutant tattoo artist who could withstand your blood", Kurt proposed. "I am sure there must be one somewhere in the world."

“If we can, I’m getting a fuzzy unicorn just to really throw everyone off,” Cammie stated with a grin.