xp_logs | LOG: Marie-Ange, Cain

Cain discovers the boathouse's new occupant, and makes one incorrect assumption and one likely correct one.
Set during Remy's posts to the journals about Marie-Ange staying at the boathouse

Marie-Ange had skulked around the boathouse for a few hours before
deciding that even with Remy in the bathroom, doing whatever Remy
-did- in the bathroom, and she didn't want to know, that maybe it was
safe to look around. It would at least be better than sitting and
twiddling her thumbs bored out of her mind.

And she wasn't leaving. She'd said she wouldn't go anywhere, so she
wouldn't. Also, she was hungry, and there might be food. Or something
like food.

Very cautiously, and as silently as possible, she crept past the
living room and into the kitchen, hoping that she'd manage to avoid
Mr. Marko. Because he gave her the creeps. Even more so than usual.
Once in the kitchen, Marie-Ange paused, puzzled. Dusty red handprints
and footprints were -everywhere-. Not a true red, more the colour of
garnet, or old, worn brick.

Cain finished putting the varnish on the bureau he'd been working on,
looking up just in time to see Marie-Ange traipsing around the
kitchen. He snorted to himself. He'd given LeBeau the benefit of the
doubt when it came to poaching another guy's girlfriend, but if Ramsey
wasn't doing the job, so be it.

Nevertheless, he thought, he'd be damned if the Cajun was going to be
bringing his conquests over and being this unsubtle about it. Using his
bed, indeed. Closing his toolbox, Cain stuck his head in through the open
kitchen window.

"Boo," he called, intending to startle the French girl.

Marie-Ange screamed. She screamed loudly, shrilly and not at all
intelligibly. Backed all the way into the kitchen wall, pale and
shaking she stared openly at Cain in horror.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Cain ducked his head out of the window and quickly
stepped through the sliding door into the boathouse. "Simmer down,
girl. Didn't mean to scare you. That much."

While taking gulping breathes to try to calm down, Marie-Ange gave
Cain a wary look. It wasn't blood, just more of the red dust covering
everything. She sighed in relief and slumped against the wall "I
thought you were hurt. The dust looks like blood at first.."

Cain arched an eyebrow, looking at his flannel shirt. He'd changed
after the sanding this morning, maybe there was still wood dust in his
hair. He rapidly brushed his hands through his hair, then looked down
at Marie-Ange.

"I get it all out?" he asked, placing his hands against the counter.

The brushing just made a torrent of tiny,red flakes scatter over the
counter, coating its surface like one of Clarice's glitter bombs. "Mr.
Marko? I think it going to take more than just shaking it off.. "
Marie-Ange pointed at the counter. "It just gets everywhere. What
-is- that? Is that the .. ruby quartz that Paige was turning into for
Alison? Is something wrong with Alison too?" She asked, almost in a
panic. She hadn't seen Alison, and Dr. McCoy had assured her Alison
was just fine, but things could've changed.

"What? No, Alison's fine." Cain peered at the counter. Spotless.
Slowly, he looked up at Marie-Ange, who seemed to be nearly
hyperventilating while attempting to stay calm. If he didn't know
better, he'd say she was in the middle of a panic attack. And of
course she had to come HERE to do it.

"You all right?" Cain demanded. "I mean, you're not going to freak
out and blow shit up like Lee or Summers Junior, are you?"

"I do not blow things up." At least, she didn't that she knew of...
"and it is not really funny to joke about Jubilee blowing anything
up..." Maybe Mr. Marko didn't know. He wasn't ranting about Amanda,
at least. Though, no one else seemed to have been very upset about it
either.

"Says you. I find it particularly hi-larious." Cain remarked
sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Now if you're done being all creepy
in my kitchen, there something I can do for you?"

"You think it is funny to joke about dead people?" Marie-Ange shook
her head. She'd known Mr. Marko was crude, but this was beyond crude
and into outright vulgar, in her opinion. "and I am not being
creepy... " Her voice trailed off, then snapped into urgency. "Mr.
Marko, your arm is on fire!" How had -that- happened? She lunged
forward a step to try to grab a towel to help put it up and stopped
dead.. The fire was creeping down his arm and hand now, bright red
flames almost oozing over his skin.

"The fuck?" Cain lifted his arm out of her reach. He may be
invulnerable, Cain thought, but he was pretty sure he'd know if he was
on fire.

"That's it," he proclaimed, "you've gone loony. As soon as LeBeau gets
off the shitter, you're off to the docs."

Marie-Ange shook her head furiously and backed away. The fire was
eating away at Cain's arm, leaving more of the red flakes and dust..

"Le squelette... Remy a dit que vous n'etez pas..."(1) She whispered,

and then took a few steps away slowly, ready to break into a run if it
looked like Mr. Marko was going to start tearing the walls down around
him.

Cain rolled his eyes. "Calme-toi!" he barked, remembering his French
from the war. He'd had to deal with enough panicking locals to try and
pacify them more than once. "Calme-toi ou je vous prenez du lac!"(2)

On second thought, threatening to throw the psychotic girl in the lake
may or may not work at this venture, Cain decided.

Marie-Ange's eyes went wide and she covered her ears with her hands.
She wasn't sure what Mr. Marko was saying, the words drowned out by a
the sick cracks she could hear coming from his joints as his skin
sloughed away, leaving behind his bones, pulsing with a dull red glow.

She wasn't going to give him a chance to grab her and tear her to
bits, or rend her limb from limb, or whatever it was that giant

skeletons wreathed in fire did. She ran - out of the room and up the
stairs, screaming for Remy the entire time.

1. The skeleton... Remy said you would not ..

2. Calm down! Calm down or I'm putting you in the lake!

LOG: Marie-Ange, Cain

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