REMI
Raza's no bullshit brand of life was a balm to the healing wounds of a life left behind. Her criticisms were apt, her compliments genuine (though rare), her instructions clear. She was as likely to throw Remi and his counterpart out on their asses after a night of drinking and cheating at playing cards as she was to pull up a seat and join them. Somehow she'd even won an arm-wrestle or two, and though drunk at the time, Remi thought something fucky had certainly been going on, not that he cared what it was.
Looking hungover and yet not necessarily any worse for it (wind-swept and sea-bathed as he was, Remi tended to always look a bit rough these days), the alchemist shouldered open the door to the bar around 9. Without bothering to look to see if Raza was in yet or not, Remi walked to the back of the shop where, allegedly, he and Ronin had thrown a man through a window the night before. Obviously that seemed like the sort of thing they might do, so Remi was here to make good on his word and fix the broken glass.
Looking hungover and yet not necessarily any worse for it (wind-swept and sea-bathed as he was, Remi tended to always look a bit rough these days), the alchemist shouldered open the door to the bar around 9. Without bothering to look to see if Raza was in yet or not, Remi walked to the back of the shop where, allegedly, he and Ronin had thrown a man through a window the night before. Obviously that seemed like the sort of thing they might do, so Remi was here to make good on his word and fix the broken glass.
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.
