fancy that

you trace my lines, stirring my soul

He should have counted on Isla to lay things bare, but still there's something raw about the way she so succinctly puts it. "You are right, of course." Remi agrees. Apparently they'd moved on from lamenting the oncoming war to dealing with the harsh reality that it was already here.

Watching her move as if in slow motion, Remi's mind dresses Isla in the ridiculous (and beautiful) ballgown she'd worn on their date, and he feels his breath hitch painfully in his throat at the memory. Blinking hard that she might be forced back into her plain-clothes, the Lullaby watches her fingers reach for him, before dropping back to her side. Smiling sadly and wondering at what level of strength tears ceased to be so painful, Remi's damaged fingers twitch at his side, not knowing how to reach out and take hers.

"Well, the Order only has one if that makes you feel any better." Remi murmurs, before turning to look at the basket in his hand. "Oh, no...it was for Ronin and I, but he...went home. I suppose you wouldn't care for a sandwich or some gin?" He offers, before reeling against the brief lightness in his voice that has his stomach clenching.

THE ALCHEMIST