"Fifty bucks that I ain't got."

It'd taken them damn forever to find a good, high spot to camp out and Chauvin swore to God that someone had gone and punched holes through all the roofs on purpose, but they'd found one eventually thank Jesus and Mary and some other person.

Of course, they're not that high up. But three stories is still better than nothing. If Chauvin tried he could probably kill a monster by chucking it off the edge and shooting it on the way down. Though to be honest, if Chauvin tried he could probably kill a monster by shooting it in the head and then chucking it off the edge, too, so that's not saying much.

Chauvin reflects on that as he chews listlessly on a toothpick and gazes into the sky. Or rather, slowly stops reflecting on that as he gazes at something in the sky that had just floated into view. Coming out from behind the apartment building a block or so down the street.

He stares at it for a while. From here, it almost looks like... hm.


"Hey, Luke," Chauvin says, without changing expression or turning to face his partner. "You hungry?"

Luke was busy making sure everything was as damned stable as solid ground, so he couldn't hear Chauvin at first. It had been hell convincing the cowboy to get on the roofs in the first place. He was shaking railings, testing the strength of things gingerly with his heavy-booted foot and mumbling to himself. Finally he registered that he had been spoken to and he looked up, tipping his hat upward with a finger to better see his partner.

"Yeah, sure am hungry, was about to get one of our stash 'f that's a'ight with ya'. Why'd y' ask--" He notes Chauvin's gaze, follows it and sees the speck drifting across the sky. "Well, well weeeellll!" He sounded positively pleased, and his grin finally returned.

"I might be in th' mood fer some poultry."

Chauvin grins as he realizes the long delay for what it is -- Luke being preoccupied with the idea that his feet aren't nailed to the godforsaken earth. Chauvin had clambered his way up here with something dangerously close to approaching 'glee' -- what the hell! the roof could open up beneath his feet and he'd just climb back up again, because it'd take more than a fall to kick him outta the game -- but Luke hadn't been nearly as carefree.

Chauvin spits the toothpick out and puts a hand over his eyes, eye still fixed on the vulture. It doesn't seem to be trying to get anywhere, just kind of milling around in the sky.

"You better be," Chauvin says, finally turning around. Only long enough to flash his grin at Luke.

A second later he's vanished.

He'd checked the situation out beforehand, of course, he's not that stupid -- all the windows are broken in. 'Course, there's still the leftover shards to worry about, teeth of glass still sticking in their frame, but Chauvin leaves the worrying to other people.

He doesn't waste any time hanging on to the edge of the roof. The second he drops off he swings himself into the window, drops on the ledge -- the glass broke clean, no shards here -- and sure, why not, he can drop from here into the second open window too, and from there back out again, skips the first level entirely by lunging for a balcony on the second story and grabbing onto the railing, thinking he could use that to drop to the ground or maybe brace his feet against the wall and backflip if he's feeling really impressive but oh well would you look at that, it broke--

Chauvin hits the ground on his back, with an undignified noise that's somewhere between a curse and a yelp. But he doesn't spend long flailing around on the ground, and rolls back up to his feet to check himself out. Nothing broken, twisted, or dislocated. He checks his equipment too. Nothing broken there either, and luckily nothing went off.

He stands back and squints up at the roof. "You didn't see that!"

"You bet I a-- Ah, hell." It didn't take many strides to get to the edge of the building, and Luke arrived on the edge to witness the well-timed jump and the rebellious balcony.

"You didn't see that."

"The hell I didn't, I think ya' just made my day! Heheheheeeeh, one day Chauvin," he found his way to the fire escape and shook it to make certain it wasn't as rusted as the balcony, "You're gonna break a leg or yer ass or both. N' you know what?" He began his descent, not too slowly, but with steady and even steps nonetheless. "I'm gonna' laugh. I promise I'll splint ya' up, but I'm gonna laugh."

His feet crunched in the grit on the asphalt and he breathed an unseen sigh of relief. His jaw looked a bit less tightened at least. "I'll give it to ya' though... that was a beautiful landin'."


Now that he was down, he felt he could re-sight their lunch-on-wings a bit more accurately. It looked about twenty feet up, but something seemed a little off about it. "So, tell me, what're we doin' down here if the bird's up there? How're we gonna' get it, you look like you had a plan!"

Chauvin rolls his one eye and sticks his tongue out as Luke goes on.

"Pff, break my ass, whatever, asses were made for landin' on," Chauvin says, waving a hand in dismissal. "And you can laugh all you want but chances are I'll have at least one good limb left -- so don't you go blamin' me when I punch you in the face."

By the end of that sentence Chauvin is grinning, though the glee drops momentarily at Luke's final question. He has to pause and think. Chauvin tugs on his lip, screws his face up in concentration, and then breaks out into smiles again once the lightbulb hits him.

"Okay, yeah, plan, I got one," Chauvin says, leaning in. "You ready for it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches up to put his arm around Luke's shoulders and turns to face the bird. Then he points at it.

"Okay, okay," Chauvin says. "So. We get up close, we... shoot it, and then we eat it!"

Chauvin beams.

This, of course, is his default plan for everything.

"Heheheh... Somehow I knew that'd be the plan. See, though, there's one problem." Luke put his hand splayed out on Chauvin's skull to turn him around to look at the building. "In case y' fergot, 'up close' is 'up'. N' besides... the hell're we gonna' shoot it with? I ditched my empty shotgun two days ago."

Mentally, he chalked up their inventory, and he couldn't think of anything short of a home-made sling that would hit a high-flying bird. A slingstone wouldn't even make it far enough up anyhow. "We'll have t' get a gun, but by then the damn thing'll probably be gone."

Chauvin turns willingly enough to look at the building. He squints at it, and then glares, as if their problems are its fault. What's it doing so high up?

Doesn't matter. Chauvin doesn't need buildings.

So he grins at Luke and shakes his head, then starts to walk away.

"Won't be a problem! Neither of those things, I mean," he says. Still walking, he reaches into his jacket. He pulls out a gun that almost looks like a toy, at least compared to the weaponry that Chauvin usually goes for.

"Remember this?" Chauvin asks, pausing to turn around and show the pistol to Luke. "I got a couple flares, reckon I could hit a dumb bird with at least one of them."

Another thought occurs to him, and his expression practically lights up with glee. "Hey! It'll cook on the way down!"

"Yer right I forgot about that, heh!" He looked all too happy at the suggestion, but at the same time he gaged the height and gave the gun a dubious look. "Y' sure that thing'll do the trick?"

He had a feeling he had an "Oh ye of little faith" rant coming to him at any moment, but kept judging distance to be sure, his eyes sweeping from bird to building to his partner. "I think it's flyin' closer, at any rate. Somethin's a little off about it, Chauvin..."

Chauvin snorts. "Am I sure? Am I sure? Luke, my good man, have I ever, ever, ever let you down before?"

Chauvin pauses.

"Okay, not counting that time with the sewers," Chauvin says. "But yeah, I can hit the stupid thing from here, or get up one of the buildings, or -- look, if I stand on your shoulders that'll probably be height enough for me to hit."

Halfway through his sentence Chauvin had started to move again, in a steady run towards the bird. Luke might be right -- he might not be able to get a good shot at the thing from the ground. So he dodges fast into the nearest building, without alerting Luke to any change in route.

The stairs are rotting but he skips the ones that look too decayed for comfort, only trips once, and makes it to the second floor. From there he'd seen an easy jump to the building over and used the gaps in the wall where bricks had fallen out to climb up into the third-story window. Nearly slipped when one foothold gave out underneath him, but Chauvin scrambled into the window before he fell. Hopes like hell that Luke saw that and won't make the same mistake.

From there up another floor. He'd planned to get to the very top of this building but the stairway looks far too unsafe, so he finally stops and makes his way over to the window.

Still not quite close enough, but the bird's coming their way. Chauvin pulls the gun out again as he waits, for either the bird to get within range or for Luke to catch up.

He eyes the creature as it closes in. Huh. Maybe it's just his lack of depth perception but -- nah, Chauvin doesn't see anything off about it.

That time in the sewers. Luke groaned, chuckled and shook his head, and was about to protest any shoulder-standing endeavors; before he could open his mouth, though, his partner was already off and as a reaction, he was running right after.

The second Chauvin darted into the building, Luke had to force himself to skid to a stop before peeking in.

He outright glared at the stairs for a few seconds before huffing and charging his way up them much like Chauvin had, but when it came to the gap, he was none too thrilled with the idea of jumping. He was thinking quick, though, and was able to grab and lay down a plank.

He didn't like how the bricks were shifting. Not one bit. But he walked across anyhow and found sturdy footholds... for the most part. He was finally able to drag himself in, and by then the dust had settled and he couldn't find his partner. "Chauvin this is possibly the worst idea you've ever had." no, not quite the worst. "At any rate I bet y' still can't hit the thing."

Stairs. Up. where else would he be.

Luke still detested climbing them.

Eventually Chauvin gets impatient with waiting and heads back towards the stairs to yell down it. He'd heard Luke flop in so he knows the bastard's here.

"Stop being a great big girl and get yourself up here!" Chauvin calls. He grins to himself. He knows full well how much Luke dislikes being up off the ground, so it is his godforsaken duty to drag his partner up around the heights of the city as much as possible.

That done, Chauvin returns to the window. He frowns. Is it him, or should the bird have been within shooting range by now? He squints at it again. It's definitely closer than before but... no, no. Chauvin shakes his head. He's letting Luke's own misgivings get to him. And where would they be if it was Luke's gut instinct driving this party? Roadkill.

Speaking of gut instinct. Chauvin's grin widens, this time taking on a decidedly manic gleam.

"Hey, Luke!" Chauvin says, hoping his partner is at least far enough up the stairs to hear him. He raises the flare gun and leans a bit out the window to aim. "Bet you fifty I can hit the thing from here."

"Not all 'f us c'n climb like damn rats!" He bellowed right back, even though he was at the top of the stairs by the time he answered anyhow. "S'cuse me fer at least bein' careful about things."

At least from here he could see the bird through the window, and he made careful steps towards it to get a better view. Just like he thought, there was definitely something wrong with that thing. "Uh. Y' might want to--"

Oh no. Oh hell no. Luke Alvarez knew the look in his partner's eye, so he couldn't say he was surprised when the mad twinkle showed up it was soon followed by "Bet you fifty I can hit the thing from here."

Without hesitation the words blurted right out of his mouth, first "Fifty of what," and soon after "Yer crazy."

He had a feeling that either of those phrases was enough to accept the bet in Chauvin's book, so he resigned himself to it.

"If you scare the damn thing off you'd'a dragged me up here for nothin'. Better hope to hell y' hit it Chauvin."

Chauvin whoops and his grin splits so wide that he's nearly baring all his teeth. He's crazy? Sure he's crazy. He's got to be crazy. He wouldn't be alive if he weren't crazy.

"Fifty of what?" he says -- and he's already taken aim, already fired -- answers himself in a sing-song voice: "Fifty bucks that I ain't got!"

The flare arcs out, hissing through the sky. Chauvin turns his blind side towards it briefly in order to shield his sight. He'd checked the chamber of the pistol on the way here, and there had been three rounds left -- well, two rounds now. Probably can't afford to waste them, though.

So he swears to God if this shot doesn't kill the thing he'll chase it down and beat it to death.

(It sounds like a good plan right now. It works for most everything else, after all. He hasn't quite realized that between him, Luke, and the bird, there's only one of them who can fly.)

There was no stopping it now, so Luke just settled in for the ride and watched the shot. It was a good shot, he hated to admit. The flare flew true... and then went farther.

Farther.

Farther...

When it finally hit the bird the flame was slightly dwarfed against it. There was an ungodly shriek as the thing was hit, feathers lit alfame and four limbs flailed...

Four?

Luke nearly did a double take except he hadn't had a chance to look away. It was falling at an angle, coming close enough to see properly and Luke did not like what he saw. Wonderful. Another god-damned mutant monster. This time it was on fire and falling from the sky, right towards them.

"Well, good job, y' won. Now get away from the damned window because that bastard's beelined for US." He slammed his hands on Chauvin's shoulders to yank him backwards... it didn't look like the thing was going to hit the building, but he'd misjudged it before and didn't want to repeat that.

"Oh, crap," Chauvin says, watching the flare go out. And then he suddenly claps a hand over his mouth and his exclamation turns into "Oh crap oh crap oh crap!" because that flare is going out a lot further than it ought to be.

Then it hits. Chauvin slams his hands down on the windowsill.

"Holy mother of God what is that thing!"

A moment of silence passes before he bursts out into laughter, and he probably would've doubled over in pain from it if Luke hadn't yanked him away from the window. He doesn't stop laughing, though. Jesus Christ, that thing wasn't a bird, it was -- Chauvin doesn't know what it is, other than 'on fire'. And at that thought he laughs even harder.

Once there's a good distance between them at the window Chauvin grabs onto Luke's shoulder. He looks at Luke. He tries to say something. Then he just starts cracking up again.

He'd hit it, too! It was bigger and farther and way uglier than either of them had thought and he'd still hit it.

"I win I win I win," Chauvin manages to say, finally, glancing over his shoulder towards the window. Despite his maniacal glee he's still very well aware of the fact that they may soon have a giant angry flaming mutant bird on their hands. But that won't stop him from crowing over his victory.

"I win!" Chauvin checks to make sure that both of his knives are still on him. "Luke, I win!"

"This is more'n' an 'oh crap' y' rat bastard! Yeah alright you won but it was dumb luck, the dumbest luck I've ever seen in my whole damned life." It should have been angry, at least a little anyway.... but he was laughing now, too, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of this whole ordeal.

laughing right down to the giant thing taking out an abandoned sedan. And then laughing even harder. He even forgot to be bothered by the heights as he ditched Chauvin to leg it down the stairs. It was safe, after all, there was no way any bird could completely survive a fall like that.

A crack in the stairs opened beneath his foot and made him quickly rethink his velocity and reminded him to be concerned about the integrity of the structure.

"Look! Luck was entirely a part of the strategy," Chauvin says, as if this is a valid argument. But he gets distracted from expounding upon its validity by the sound of the bird-thing crashing. Bursts out into laughter again, because who wouldn't.

He stops only long enough to yell after Luke when the man vanishes down the stairs. "Hey! You wait up--"

Chauvin drops down the stairwell right after Luke, so he sees the step crack under Luke's feet and very helpfully crashes into Luke's back, sending both of them tumbling down across the broken step before it can give way entirely and drop either of them. The next few steps seem solid enough, at least. Solid for Chauvin, seeing as he doesn't stomp around everywhere.

He regains balance and grabs on to Luke by the back of his belt, reigning him in.

"Good lord!" Chauvin says, looking at the broken step. Then he whips his head back round to fix Luke with a stern look. "You been puttin' on weight or what?"

He can't keep the serious expression for long. Breaks out into smiles again and shoves Luke forwards. "C'mon! Can't you smell it? I can and by God I am starving!"

He didn't like falling in the least and just about shook Chauvin by the shoulders for causing it. "'Course I didn't gain any weight. That damn step's as rotten as you are, heheh."

He wondered, as he walked out the door, why the hell didn't they just come up the stairs of THIS building instead of jumping that stupid gap? He made note of it as one more thing to bother Chauvin about, and then hurried towards the bent-up car and the broken bird. Luckily the car itself hadn't caught yet, and even though Luke cared little for the smell of burning feathers, the rest of it DID smell damned good... better than anything else he'd smelled in a while.

It was ugly. Then again, turkeys were pretty ugly too, so were ostriches. How he knew what ostrich tasted like he didn't care to dwell to long on. What he was starting to dwell on was whether this was a worthy use of that small bottle of bourbon he'd kept hidden from his partner for this long. he was already getting ideas about what to do with the nasty-looking carcass. There was a lot of it, that was for sure... he flapped his coat onto the flames, hardly caring about the flecks of blood on him.

"It could do with a little more cookin', I think. Do we still have those pots I found, or'd you throw 'em at somethin' yet?"

Chauvin catches up with Luke at the bird no more than ten seconds later, wrinkling his nose not at the smell but at the sight. Jesus Christ, the thing was hideous. He almost felt bad for it, it was that ugly. Then again, its appearance probably wasn't improved any by the fact that it was still on fire.

He shrugs his own jacket off to help Luke smother the flames. Also proceeds to look extremely innocent in response to Luke's question.

"If I threw those pots at anything at all it was only to save your life," Chauvin says. He is entirely solemn about this, and would like Luke to think that he was also entirely serious.

Then he cocks his head to one side and looks thoughtful. "Or I might've just stole them to play drums while you weren't lookin'. I dunno!"

In all honesty, he's not entirely sure what happened to the pots. Chauvin tends to not remember the things he does when drunk. It's a self-defense mechanism.

He squints at the carcass. There's an important question here, he knows. It takes him a few moments of intense soul-searching to figure out what that question is.

He snaps his fingers. "Okay. Here's a good one. How the blazes are we gonna get this thing back?"

He had already figured Chauvin in as a hazard(something he had learned from experience), and was already on to the next plan.

"We'll just have t' find some new ones, shouldn't be too-too hard or anythin'. N' then you'll lose those n' we'll have t' get more. Might start makin' a stash somewhere. hell, might find y' some REAL drums." The latter thought is an idea he likes, though there are other matters to be delt with first. He lifts up the head and gives the beak an inspection. It was nice material, he could make something out of it, and knives were among the items in the list he started compiling in his head, uses for feathers, claws, everything came to mind.

"Movin' it... Well that should be pretty easy." Now he's got his own twinkle in his eye. "S' to big to carry then it's sure as hell too much fer both of us to eat. Now how about this...?" He sets the head down, and listens for a moment before continuing. "We find the nearest pair n' get 'em t' help out, give 'em a share of meat? We'll have to move fast, or those dogs'll come runnin' fer a quick meal. Gettin' some help's the only way we'll ever move it out quick."

Chauvin's thinking about the skull of the bird as Luke talks.

"Bone drums," Chauvin says. He blinks and grins, staring off into space in a happy daze. That look he gets when he's talking to himself, hardly even aware that he's speaking aloud. "I will play your deathmarch on the skulls of our enemies!"

Then he shakes himself out of his daze and focuses his gaze on Luke again. Claps his hands together as though he hadn't said anything.

"That sounds fantastic," he says. "You want me to stay behind and chase off the dogs if they do come?"

He thinks to himself that Luke had better find another pair damn fast in that case. The flaregun might scare off a pack if they come, but it won't keep them at bay forever. And there's only two rounds left. If both of those are spent Chauvin'll be reduced to barking at the damn things, like he'd tried that one night when he'd been at the vodka again.

Luke would have been off like a shot if he hadn't have seen the look on Chauvin's face and heard the accompanying phrase. He stopped for a moment, stared, and tried to stop the twitching at the corners of his mouth to stop.

He nearly hit the ground hard laughing like he did. "What're y' even TALKIN' about, Jean? God DAMN." He got up and wiped his hand across his forehead, still laughing as he attempted jogging away. "Yeah yeah, look out for yerself, y' hear me? Shouldn't take too long."

Especially since someone was bound by now to have heard them laughing, bound to have seen the smoke.