I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi shrugs, stepping farther into the room. "I was in the neighbourhood," he lies easily, voice low and rough at the edges. His gaze drifts over Ronin, taking in the bruising that curls like shadows around his throat. The shape of it tells a story that doesn’t need to be said aloud. Even with the hospital smock hiding the worst of it, Remi’s mouth tightens faintly, green eyes lingering a breath too long before flicking away.
The description of the room draws a dry huff from him, and he lets his gaze sweep slowly across the bland walls, the too-bright windows, the television that hasn’t been touched. "Don’t forget the curated wardrobe," he murmurs, nodding at the hospital gown. "No colour, no fit, yet somehow you still manage to make it look good." The smile he offers is faint but genuine, creased with worry more than anything else.
Remi glances at the visitor’s chair but doesn’t sit. Instead, without explanation, he pulls it around to the far side of the bed, positioning it so he’s facing the door with his back to the window. He doesn’t comment on it, even if he’s sure Ronin is watching him with that same tired suspicion he always has when Remi starts acting strange. Only once he’s settled does he nod toward the other man. "I was waiting for Isla to say it was alright to come by." The words are casual, but his hands are tense where they rest on his knees.
Then silence, and not the comfortable kind. Remi lifts his eyes at last, green eyes uncertain and shadowed as they meet Ronin’s. "Have you..." His voice dips, just slightly. "Seen anything?"
The description of the room draws a dry huff from him, and he lets his gaze sweep slowly across the bland walls, the too-bright windows, the television that hasn’t been touched. "Don’t forget the curated wardrobe," he murmurs, nodding at the hospital gown. "No colour, no fit, yet somehow you still manage to make it look good." The smile he offers is faint but genuine, creased with worry more than anything else.
Remi glances at the visitor’s chair but doesn’t sit. Instead, without explanation, he pulls it around to the far side of the bed, positioning it so he’s facing the door with his back to the window. He doesn’t comment on it, even if he’s sure Ronin is watching him with that same tired suspicion he always has when Remi starts acting strange. Only once he’s settled does he nod toward the other man. "I was waiting for Isla to say it was alright to come by." The words are casual, but his hands are tense where they rest on his knees.
Then silence, and not the comfortable kind. Remi lifts his eyes at last, green eyes uncertain and shadowed as they meet Ronin’s. "Have you..." His voice dips, just slightly. "Seen anything?"
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.
