the crooked kind

With a sad smile, the alchemist nodded. He was pleased of course to know that she was alright (the last time Frey had appeared, one of the women he'd been with certainly had not been alright with the restraints and conversation that had followed), but suitably saddened at the implication and assumptions that came from having endured worse. As she encouraged him not to blame himself, Remi chuckled bitterly. If he'd only kept his mouth shut, if only he'd just done what Rexanna had suggested, if only he'd not given in so easily to the woman's curiosity. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Remi could only sigh. "I just wish I understood." He mumbled with uncharacteristic glumness. Glancing up, Remi considered her words. He supposed it made some amount of sense. Frey had said they wanted passion, and heat, and pleasure. Never once did they specifically say it had to come from Remi. Crossing his arms and rubbing his hands against his biceps as if he was cold (though he wasn't), the alchemist nodded thoughtfully. Just now with the loss of his love feather-light in his mind for its utter absence, the thought of aiding others in such a pursuit seemed entirely foreign. "And if I bring them here and am wrong? If their passions are stripped away as well?" With a glare (an expression that rarely ever found itself on Remi's face), the alchemist looked at the shrine and shook his head with a menacing frown. "I will not subject anyone else to this...thing until I know for sure." remi Trying to teach my common sense to not waver with my confidence