I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi’s eyebrows lift slightly as Ronin doesn’t immediately thumb out another retort, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he picks up his burger and sinks his teeth into it, chewing thoughtfully as he listens. It's only once the other man explains his logic that Remi exhales, shaking his head with a dry little laugh. "I didn’t realise there was so much strategy involved in replying to online comments," he mutters, as if the very idea exhausts him more than being drenched in spectral blood.
The phone between them continues to light up like a cursed ouija board, the flood of responses growing steadily louder, both literally and figuratively. Some users are already screencapping the interaction and reposting. Others are launching into miniature essays on ethics in ghost-hunting journalism. More than a few are falling over themselves to proclaim their undying devotion to either Ghostwatch or Seance & Sensibility, with a rather disproportionate number of heart-eyes and swooning praise aimed squarely at @driftwoodJack.
When Ronin brings up the next episode—the one where most of the basement footage is mysteriously missing—Remi swallows more slowly. A minute or so passes before he sets his burger down and reaches for one of the fries. "How far’s Isla gotten with the edit?" he asks lightly, like it’s just small talk. "Haven’t seen anything from her yet." He shrugs, aiming for casual, even if the ketchup he dips into feels like a poor substitute for all the blood in the footage no one knows he stole.
The phone between them continues to light up like a cursed ouija board, the flood of responses growing steadily louder, both literally and figuratively. Some users are already screencapping the interaction and reposting. Others are launching into miniature essays on ethics in ghost-hunting journalism. More than a few are falling over themselves to proclaim their undying devotion to either Ghostwatch or Seance & Sensibility, with a rather disproportionate number of heart-eyes and swooning praise aimed squarely at @driftwoodJack.
When Ronin brings up the next episode—the one where most of the basement footage is mysteriously missing—Remi swallows more slowly. A minute or so passes before he sets his burger down and reaches for one of the fries. "How far’s Isla gotten with the edit?" he asks lightly, like it’s just small talk. "Haven’t seen anything from her yet." He shrugs, aiming for casual, even if the ketchup he dips into feels like a poor substitute for all the blood in the footage no one knows he stole.
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.
