the last blues we're ever gonna have

This scar I can't reverse, when the more it heals the worse it hurts

"Buonasera." The Lullaby chimes in response as he glances over one shoulder. It isn't for his own safety that he's concerned, it very rarely is, but simply to make sure that no one on Mateo's sleepy street had seen the wraith lurking in front of the botanist's door. But then, even if any of the disappearances were noticed in the following few days, they'd never find any of the bodies.

"Come stai?" Remi asks casually as if it weren't the middle of the night. If he notices at all the endearing resemblance between who he'd once been and the man before him now, the Lullaby gives no indication. There was a time when he'd have given attention to such things, but being a demigod had both limited his way of thinking as much as it had expanded it.

"Also, I should say that your warnings about the tea are...non necessario." He adds conversationally, shrugging his shoulders. Without his wraithly darkness to obscure it, the blood on the Lullaby's forearms and one pant leg are much more obvious now, despite his chosen topic of conversation. "We are demigods, so the alcohol and your miscele do not affect us as much."

REMI