whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

"I hear the army can do that to a person." Remi replies, his voice suddenly soft. He can't understand it, having never been, but he's seen enough Vets freaking out about cars backfiring and begging for money on the streets to know that it isn't the Captain American bullshit Hollywood would have everyone believe.

Don't get drunk, Remi thinks to himself as he swallows more than he should of the whiskey. It's smooth and probably-Irish knowing the company he's in, and not unlike how he'd been in the elevator, he's reluctant to make himself wait. Sinking down near—but not touching—Ronin on the couch, Remi casually rests his leg over his knee and acts like he has to think about the answer. "Depends if you're asking about the nosebleed seats or the exclusive back-stage pass." Bouncing his brows as he takes another sip, Remi looks around the apartment with a boyish grin. "Seems like you're good for it, either way."

ThE RoCkStAr