[It's been a few days since anyone's heard a word from Remy, which is out of character for him. When the feed cuts on, the video is very dark. Remy's face is mostly in shadow, save for his dimly glowing eyes and the burning ember at the end of his cigarette.]
Can't say I never met de dead before. Mo' times den I can count. Still, never gets no easier, nes pas?
[He's quiet as he pulls another cigarette from its pack, lighting it on the dying fire of the last. Yeah. Tonight's a night for chain-smoking.]
Makes ya think, though, don't it? You miss dem when dey gone, cryin', whatever. You ain't sad fo' dem, though. Yo' cryin' fo' what you lost. Ain't no escapin' dat fact. Makes havin' t' talk to dem again pretty hard. 'Specially when dey call you on bein' selfish.
[And the last is in french, and seems spoken more to himself to the tablet.]
Le fait qu'ils ont raison ne pas faire que plus facile.
[And he reaches out, turning off the device.]
[OOC: Translation: The fact that they're right doesn't make it any easier.]
[Private;;Ivy]
[He turns the feed back on a moment later, audio only this time.]
Ivy, you ain't got to answer if you don't want to. I ain't forcin' you. Just sayin' I'm worried, is all, mon chere. Ain't seen you 'round in a while.