1965-02-14 - Jean-Pierre Picked a Peck of Perfect Pecans
Summary: When the crew stopped on the side of the road to pick up some nuts Remy might not have been the one they planned on
Related: Plot: Book of Raziel
Theme Song: "Pork & Beans" - Wheezer
remy-lebeau severin vitale lucian elmo jp 

Now was the evening of our five-finger discount tent. They weren't passing through Georgia Country but heading towards Jackson, Mississippi off on the side of the highway there were small gems one couldn't find in the north: Pecan stands. Pecan stands, red clay earth, and way too many pine trees they never warn you about.

It was supposed to be winter and yet it was maybe the low-mid 70's and was starting to feel like early summer. Wide open country and no buildings really forever in sight aside from some large sprawling farm houses that one occasionally happened upon. The black 1964 GTO pulled up on the opposite side of the road letting the yellow truck pull up behind him. Looking to the small, 3-eyed doll buckled into the front seat JP murmured, 'Miss Samantha, watch the car now." And with that nodded to Lucifer. He got out to stretch his legs leaning up against the front fender, one ankle crossing the other. Thumbs hung in the corners of his pockets squinting to see the truck come up, but not yet the motorbike that took Suriel and Michael on detour.

The Devil went down to Georgia,
He was looking to rescind a deal,
He was in a bind, 'cause whatever mortals find,
Makes 'em slippery as an eel.

Lucian makes for reasonable company traveling. He never complains about food or pit stops, doesn't change the radio, and sometimes doesn't actually occupy the backseat he should well be in. Occasionally he listens for his brother off in the distance or checks the sideview mirror. For the legendary Prince of the East — a fact very little known among the assembled company, possibly even absent Suriel — he is mundane. Stretching out beside the GTO, he pats the glossy black car as though to confirm she has been a very fine lady indeed. "What are we doing in this slice of…" Dirt, pecans, and glaring red ants. "Here?"

From out of the window of the GTO jumps a large tawny colored cat that yawns and stretches like cats do, from nose to tail. It wanders around a bit and then leaps onto the hood of the GTO where it stretches out in the sun for a fw moments, just enjoying the warmth and yawning lazily. The tip of his tail flicks occasionally, one ear swiveling a bit in Lucian's direction at the question, though he has no answer for that. One slitted eye looks in JP's direction. Severin had taken most of the trip as a cat. It made more room in the car.

Out maybe 100 yards ahead of the pair of vehicles, a lone figure in a trenchcoat sauntering along. He cuts an odd figure, clearly overdressed in the heat. He's carrying an acoustic guitar case in one hand and a walking stick in the other. It's probably too far out to recognize who it might be, at this point, but once they get closer it will surely become clear.

But what the hell is Remy LeBeau doing out here?

Well, it probably all started when Belladonna Boudreaux got a fist through the head, or maybe when she got a fist through the head by a Goth chick with super powers. Or maybe it was the purple guy with the mind control. Or maybe the story could start about that time he tortured a cop, or the time he got tortured by one and saved by a southern belle.

That's to say nothing about selling your soul for a bowl of gumbo, the biggest catfish Tauntie Marie ever caught, or the story of the Three Ghost Fred. Or how he lost the hundreds of thousands of dollars he'd saved up over the past year. And by saved up I mean stole. Hell, dat story will have to wait though.

He's got a story for about everything, but as for right now the Cajun would settle for a cup of water.

Elmo has never been this far outside New York and it's all a new experience. A new, overly warm experience. There's trees and the dirt is red and where are all the buildings and streetlights? It's so *dark* when the sun sets. When he gets out of his yellow pickup, he's got his coat and tie off and shirt unbuttoned. He stretches and meanders over to the others, giving JP a light whack on the shoulder. "What's up?"

Vitale hasn't been this far away from home before either. He'd gotten over the anxiety of it many miles back though. It was easy when the crew he was traveling with were so much fun. Fun when they weren't causing plenty of trouble. It is crazy, all the green that he can see that isn't in central park. So much of it. Last night they'd even seen these bugs called Fireflies. It was crazy to him. As he gets out to stretch, he rubs a hand down the back of the cat on the hood of the GTO. He squints at the figure approaching them and looks over to JP. "Is he one of ours too?"

JP dipped his head in a nod to Lucian. Say what people will about the guy, ya know, he was alright. It didn't make JP feel any better about the trip, but finding commonalities was nice and he treated Jeanne well. Dark brown eyes squint in teh sun and he looked up the road. the crazy mechanic squint trying to figure that out. "Dunno yet. Be our luck though wouldn' it?" Which didn't confirm if he didn't recognize him or simply wouldn't presume status. A hand reached out to scritch cat-brother behind the ears. He asked Sev, "Take a look?" Not a request, a query. Looking back to teh city-born a wide, wry grin formed and pointed to the stand piled with nuts and corn and other foods that last later in the seasons. Food, Elmo! Foooood. 10 to 1 JP would bet Elmo and Vitale never had roadside pecans before.

Jeanne has been a proper workhorse, going at fractional speeds to accommodate comfort. None shall complain about the chariot so much as the charioteer, disregarding the hellions in Constantinople with their psychotic hooligan devotion. Lucifer flicks a general look across the others gathering at the wheels of the GTO, and if he should happen to avoid creased clothes or that roadworn look, the multitude of other sins more than make up for a modest benefit.

His narrowed eyes scan the perimeter, anticipating assaults from angry trees or Michael stumbling out of the bushes, naked as a jaybird, covered in ants singing aggressive beat poetry in pheromones. "Always trust the cat to have the right question." Answer? Verdict's out. He stands loose and unbothered, back straight. Remy LeBeau, wandering musician at large, receives that pointed measure.

It's only when others start looking at the figure coming up the road that Severin lifts his head, after purring lazily at the scritching from Vitale, and notices him. The cat rolls to his feet and pads down the end of the car, jumps to the ground, and saunters, yes, saunters, as only a cat can, that is half prowl of curiosity and half instinctual recognition. He meets the figure halfway and then stops, tilting his head and swiveling one ear. It's then that Remy LeBeau might hear the very familiar voice of one Severin Bonaventure in his head.

«So I haul ass all way up t'New York an' then what? Ol' Remy go an' vanish again, only t'be found on the side the road like he done got los' with his guitar an' nothin' else to his name. The hell you doin' out here, Remy?" The cat does a turn around the man's legs, and then walks along side, "Come meet mon frere an' the rest."

"Oh ah ain't got no guitar in here, Sev," Remy replies with a twinkle in his eye, consipicuously refraining from answering any of the questions he's asked. "I do, however, have a can ah beans."

Remy goes down to one knee, flips open the case, and inside is all of the belongings he has in his life. There are 8 decks of playing cards, a few packs of cigarettes, a condensed staff, a pair of underwear (hopefully clean), one sock, a picture, and a can of beans.

He holds the can of beans up and looks at the cat with a tilted head. "Ah'll trade ya for a drink and a ride."

He gets to his feet as Sev does a turn around his feet and falls in. "Good can, too. Lil chunks of bacon in dere."

Elmo's nervous around Lucifer, because the angel is so cool and sharp and frankly Elmo envies him kind of a lot. His suits are /amazing/. Next to him, the mutants are scruffy alley cats. Anyway, Vitale notices the guy down the road and he turns to look, as Sev goes to take a sniff. "You know that guy?" he asks JP.

Vitale watches as Severin hops off the car with all the grace of a cat and saunters the way that only a cat could up to the newcomer and it makes him smile. "Severin sure does." It's not as if Severin doesn't always exude confidence but his fur doesn't gather up on his back, his tail isn't excessively fluffy. He isn't afraid. He can't hear what's said but he'll bet Severin's making some conversation in the man's head. He looks to JP by Elmo. "What Sparkplug asked. Are we adding another to this party of fun? Did you have plans to pick up a stray?"

JP sttood there hanging back as the man in the trenchcoat batered with kitteh-frere. JP always looked like he was casin a joint or sizing someone up when he stared. That was unavoidable…mostly because it was true. Hell his reputation preceeded him especially as they got closer to home. First in, Last Out was the order rule for shipping and also for how JP took to scrappin. He was processing the question when Vitale answered. A small nod followed almost as if JP only had the two modes (fite! and 'what's this button do?') that he might still be deciding which to be in. In the end he answered Elmo, "non, but sure seem Sev do." The heel of his boot rest against the tire and he pushed himself completely upright lookin to Lucian, "I wan' your opinion on those pecans 'fore we leavin." The serious expression widened into an ear to ear grin of amusement when asked if they're collectin strays, "Whaaaaaaat? You an Sparkplug turn out a'ight." He spared a glance to Elmo as if telling him «I told you that name'd stick» and went to meet Remy quarter way.

Cats are the best of living weapons, capable of being as useful as bouncing Betties and tripwires in the same fuzzy package. Affinity for them or not, Lucian plants his hands loosely in the pockets of his jacket. Heat fails to affect him much, suitably ignored for the sizing up between the stranger and the others. "I believe hello is still a passable greeting around here." Being what it is, and what he will, those expecting a hint of a Cajun patois find one. Those who want to hear a trace of Yiddish get that. Anticipating cut-glass English that always otherwise follows him around? There it is, the accent leaning clear enough. "In exchange for your driving? A fair trade."

«Deal,» Severin says to Remy, making note that no questions were answered, but not seeming to mind it any. He strolls on back toward the group and winds around JP's legs as he comes out to meet them part of the way back. JP can hear him just as clearly, «Frere, Remy LeBeau, ol' friend. He's gonna head in t'town with us. We got some water in th'car?» Then back to Remy «This my brother, JP.» He bumps up against JP once more and then continues right on past him, heading back toward the car to leap back up onto the hood.

Remy holds up the can toward Lucian and gives a nod, "Pork an' beans. Sweets for de sweet an all dat. We come bearin' gifts, nez-pas?" He gives a nod. "A damn pleasure, y'all."

Elmo sizes up Remy just as obviously as JP had, even though he looks much less like the type to do sizing and more to get beat up. Not like Remy needs much looking-over, as he's clearly more Cajun trouble. Arms folded, he tips a nod to Remy. "Sev didn't mention your name to me. I'm Elmo." He's got a New York Jewish accent that could scour pots.

Vitale laughs a little when JP says that they turned out alright as the first two strays Sev and JP picked up. Though he watches as the other man approaches and then that cajun accents slips off his tongue and Vitale knows that they've just accepted another bag of trouble. "Well, the more trouble the merrier. That's not his real name, it's Sparkplug, don't let him confuse you." Vitale's Brooklyn accent is as thick as all the Cajun accents here as he leans against the hood, hand offered out to Severin for more scritching. He shoots a teasing smile over at Elmo. "I'm Vitale. Good to have in a scrape."

JP seemed overly amused. A hand was offered out to Remy with that lazy amused grin. For those keeping tabs on their high school French, What JP had coming out of his mouth was it's fast, sloppy, and reckless slurred bastard child of the language. «No shit? ANyone right in my brother's book is good with me, man. Jean-Pierre. That's, yeah, Lucian, Elmo, and the Italian is Vitale.» He squint lookin around in English sighing, "Man, food firs', then we get on tha road." Looking around one last time he side-nodded to follow, "Goin' alla way back home, then, God, or appointed angent, willin we goin back North-ways. Can brin you 's far as ya wan', mon ami." But first? Pecans!!

Delicious choices those may be, but the tall blond merely raises his eyebrows. "I will have to take your word for it." Ain't no pork and beans that ever crossed the palate at Lux, and nor will there ever be short of a pleading celestial willing to sign away certain problems on a neat scrawl. He goes back to a certain sort of quiet, and adds, "Lucian." Just in case. Because it's a truth, sort of.

Remy shakes JP's hand with his own partially gloved fingers and gives a deep nod before he regards everyone else with a deep and theatrical bow.

"De name is Remy LeBeau, and ah am kindly at y'service wetha you like de beans or no. Eitha way, ahm much obliged for the hospitality." For his part, Remy is not quick to go and purchase any food, even at JPs mention. He could steal some, of course, but if caught it might make the ride more complicated, and he's had one hell of a 24 hours.

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