the bastion
i don't want the world to see me,
because I don't think they'd understand
because I don't think they'd understand
Remi doesn’t bother reaching for the drinks menu. Flora has kept his gin threaded through enough of the cocktails here that he already knows what he wants, and orders with the ease of someone who’s sampled his way through most of them before settling back into the booth.
His brows rise as Melita slides the bag across the table, surprise giving way to a warm chuckle as he draws it nearer. "I heard Safrin was..." The rest of the sentence dissolves behind the boyish smile tugging at his lips, his eyebrows lifting as though they might supply the word he’s wisely chosen not to say aloud. Difficult seems far too mild, based on what Ronin had told him, but Remi has no intention of committing anything less flattering to the air where Safrin might conceivably hear it. "He’ll appreciate this," he adds instead, glancing down at the assortment before setting it carefully beside him.
At Melita’s second question, his expression sobers. Remi leans back against the booth with a sigh, one arm settling along the worn leather as he nods. "He did." His fingers tap once against the seat before going still. "If Mort hadn’t become involved, I don’t think I would make much of it. It doesn’t seem so surprising that Ludo might disappear for a time." A slight shrug accompanies the words, because absence and unpredictability have always been woven into the herald as tightly as rags and masks.
"But Mort searching for them is different." Concern tightens across Remi’s features as he studies Melita from across the table. "How much of this do you think is connected to what is happening in the jungle and the desert?"
His brows rise as Melita slides the bag across the table, surprise giving way to a warm chuckle as he draws it nearer. "I heard Safrin was..." The rest of the sentence dissolves behind the boyish smile tugging at his lips, his eyebrows lifting as though they might supply the word he’s wisely chosen not to say aloud. Difficult seems far too mild, based on what Ronin had told him, but Remi has no intention of committing anything less flattering to the air where Safrin might conceivably hear it. "He’ll appreciate this," he adds instead, glancing down at the assortment before setting it carefully beside him.
At Melita’s second question, his expression sobers. Remi leans back against the booth with a sigh, one arm settling along the worn leather as he nods. "He did." His fingers tap once against the seat before going still. "If Mort hadn’t become involved, I don’t think I would make much of it. It doesn’t seem so surprising that Ludo might disappear for a time." A slight shrug accompanies the words, because absence and unpredictability have always been woven into the herald as tightly as rags and masks.
"But Mort searching for them is different." Concern tightens across Remi’s features as he studies Melita from across the table. "How much of this do you think is connected to what is happening in the jungle and the desert?"
when everything's meant to be broken,
i just want you to know who I am
i just want you to know who I am
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.
