Only a Look and a Voice

it was all dead end roads, heaven knows

Sat rather neatly, Remi had a sketchbook rested on his knee and a stub of charcoal between his fingers. Despite his abilities with magic now, Remi hadn't ever bothered creating useful things for himself (a pen perhaps, a magical way to keep his hands clean). Instead, his white shirt was as stained as ever with sooty hand prints, his curls dishevelled, and his notebook a masterclass in ordered chaos.

Even so, blind as he was, the alchemist seemed quite content as he sat and sketched. Sadly the charcoal represented the world as Remi saw it with far more accuracy than it ever had done in the past, but it was something. If anyone could look on the bright side while blind, it was Remi.

Hearing his name suddenly made the alchemist flinch, the charcoal slipping from between his fingers and scattering into small useless clumps onto the page. Looking around and of course seeing nothing but the desaturated world, Remi frowned gently, too-pale eyes peering hard to try and locate whoever it was who had called out to him.

"Sam?" The alchemist mused, hazarding a guess based on the pitch of the voice and the fact that it seemed to come from nowhere.