Just a stirring in my soul

"It is a nice thought." The alchemist agrees. In another life he would have been all sunny smiles and easy conversation asking after Amalia's grandmother and what other interesting nuances she can think of. But those were the days when his eyes were only ever heavy with sleep and not anguish. Remi feels almost embarrassed by his sadness, as if he should feel guilt over the way his lips have subtly fallen into a frown. He should try, he supposes, to be cheerful. Things aren't so bad and it isn't like he deserves anything more than what he has. But he is just so very, very sad these days. The best he can do is a small melodic hum of agreement.

"Well it is nice to meet you properly." He reiterates with a small bow, though it is not nearly so deep as it might once have been, partially because Aoife's weight threatens to tug him forward.

"At this point, almost anything will do." Remi replies, a shy and boyish smile twitching at his lips. "From the smell alone I am sure I would enjoy anything that you have made." The compliment lacks the buoyancy and ease that he is used to. Instead it sounds forced, like a line. It isn't though, Remi truly means what he says, but his fractured mind is unfocused and scattered.

Humming wearily, he lowers his lips to the top of Aoife's head, kissing her curls gently as she takes one of his fingers in her small hands and flails it about.

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me