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

"Where do you think you'd be, if not for all of that?" Remi wants to know. All of that just casually being a few years of trauma, the army business notwithstanding. Regretting the words only slightly—hey, what would your life have been were it not fucked over for you?—there's something deeply genuine in how the musician turns, leaning over the couch to rest his arms against the back of it.

Eyes widening slightly, Remi laughs loudly and unapologetically. "Oh and a bad boy streak as well." His is not a military family, and so Remi understands little of the pride nor disrespect that's implied here. "Go on then. What were you kicked out for?" If only Remi knew more than just what vague war-movies had told him, he might not have asked this question with so much levity.

'Straightish, for sure." Often photographed with a blue-eyed blonde, Remi has happily let the media come to their own conclusions about his relationship with her. That she is often seen leaving his apartment in the mornings or sneaking in at night only helps his case. Never mind that he and Isla are usually just bingeing horror movies, or she's his emergency contact when he finds himself just a little too deep.

'Well, at least I can vouch for that.' Remi agrees with a chuckle. "I did see the bartender slip you both a tied cherry stem and what I can only assume was her number the other night. It nearly knocked me right off my game." He admits, straightening and walking around the couch to sink down next to Ronin.

ThE RoCkStAr