I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi blinks, genuinely surprised, before nodding slowly. "Right. I think I remember seeing that on your bio, actually—your mum being into all that. Demonology lectures." A pause, followed by a faintly sheepish shrug. "Honestly, I thought they made that up for the show. You didn’t really seem like the type."
His voice trails off into a quiet huff of laughter, eyes flicking toward Ronin just in time to catch the wince. "Well. If you’re revoking your invitation, then that’s that, then." He rolls his eyes theatrically as he says it, but the crooked smile he offers after is weary rather than amused. "Glad we solved that. Guess we can pack it in and go home now."
There’s a hum as he turns the cart into the next aisle, boots thudding softly against the too-shiny floor. "Small victories," he mutters when the fashion game is brought up, brushing his hand across the hem of his sweater as if to deflect the compliment, though his grin turns lopsided all the same.
"I think we're good for now," he confirms, nodding toward the supplies in the cart. "Then again, I am just the simple Medium, not the son of a Demonologist, so if you would like to go check the garden centre for hag stones, be my guest." Then, glancing back over his shoulder toward the front of the store, he grimaces faintly. "Pretty sure there’s a burger place attached, if you think your stomach can handle real food. Or at least whatever that place counts as food."
His voice trails off into a quiet huff of laughter, eyes flicking toward Ronin just in time to catch the wince. "Well. If you’re revoking your invitation, then that’s that, then." He rolls his eyes theatrically as he says it, but the crooked smile he offers after is weary rather than amused. "Glad we solved that. Guess we can pack it in and go home now."
There’s a hum as he turns the cart into the next aisle, boots thudding softly against the too-shiny floor. "Small victories," he mutters when the fashion game is brought up, brushing his hand across the hem of his sweater as if to deflect the compliment, though his grin turns lopsided all the same.
"I think we're good for now," he confirms, nodding toward the supplies in the cart. "Then again, I am just the simple Medium, not the son of a Demonologist, so if you would like to go check the garden centre for hag stones, be my guest." Then, glancing back over his shoulder toward the front of the store, he grimaces faintly. "Pretty sure there’s a burger place attached, if you think your stomach can handle real food. Or at least whatever that place counts as food."
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.
