Remus is on his second cup of coffee.
It's foul and acidic and makes his empty stomach want to shrivel up and crawl out of his body--he's never even liked the smell of coffee--but it's hot and however bad it tastes, at least it tastes strongly of something. At least it doesn't taste like blood.
Nothing does, he thinks. It wasn't real, didn't count
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It's a bit more squinting before he starts to think she's rather familiar. "I'm aware it's not the biggest of islands, but have we met?"
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To put it lightly.
Remus shakes his head, only enough to clear it, "No, Belle--forgive me, he speaks so highly of you both. I'm Remus."
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"Did you know much English when you arrived," he asks conversationally, not sure how long she's actually been here to pick it up.
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"Are your friends here?" she wondered.
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"And what of your people," he asks, knowing enough of the Homestead by now to guess her parents haven't appeared.
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