I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi nods as Ronin speaks, the details washing over him in pieces. Dining room. Basement. His gaze hardens slightly, not sharp—just distant, like his thoughts have pulled a few steps ahead of the conversation. He still nods. "We should bring water." he murmurs, almost as an afterthought. Then, after a beat longer than it should take: "For the well." The words hang for half a second before he blinks, a quiet reset sliding back across his face. His eyes flick toward the flickering light behind him and he huffs a faint, sheepish breath, offering a small shake of his head.
"The wiring in this place is shit," he says with a tired sort of grin. "No matter how many bulbs I change, they always end up flickering." He looks back to Ronin then, and nods again, steadier this time. "Yeah. I’ll be there."
///
True to how they've always known Remi to be, he shows up right on time.
He steps onto the set with the quiet ease of someone who’s done this before and knows exactly how much space he takes up. His curls are damp, his face clean-shaven, and the change of clothes—dark jeans, fitted sweater, simple jacket—makes him look almost like himself again.
He finds Isla near the equipment van, watching something on a monitor with the sort of laser focus that would normally have him not wanting to interrupt. "Hey," Remi says, offering a small, sheepish smile as he approaches. "Sorry for all the missed calls and everything. Something went weird with my international plan." He lifts a shoulder in a quiet shrug. "Should be sorted now."
"The wiring in this place is shit," he says with a tired sort of grin. "No matter how many bulbs I change, they always end up flickering." He looks back to Ronin then, and nods again, steadier this time. "Yeah. I’ll be there."
///
True to how they've always known Remi to be, he shows up right on time.
He steps onto the set with the quiet ease of someone who’s done this before and knows exactly how much space he takes up. His curls are damp, his face clean-shaven, and the change of clothes—dark jeans, fitted sweater, simple jacket—makes him look almost like himself again.
He finds Isla near the equipment van, watching something on a monitor with the sort of laser focus that would normally have him not wanting to interrupt. "Hey," Remi says, offering a small, sheepish smile as he approaches. "Sorry for all the missed calls and everything. Something went weird with my international plan." He lifts a shoulder in a quiet shrug. "Should be sorted now."
but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
