His companion was anything but patient and friendly, but Balaur would be the last to complain about such a thing. That was the sort of company he kept back home in the tropical depths of Hades, worse even. Balaur was one of the most pleasant demons he knew, which helped him blend in with the mortal crowd much easier than his kin. He wasn't the type to quietly whisper things in their minds; no, he preferred to deal with his quarry directly. It was all about entertainment for him. Remy steeped his hands in front of him, elbows resting comfortable on the small table, and leaned forward. In contrast to Tristan's demeanor, Remy was quite calm and relaxed, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. A patron passed by them, probably on the way to the restroom, and quietly greeted him with, "Good evening, father." He nodded with a secretive smile before turning back to his guest.
"Rest assured, I'm a priest. Or, this body is--ordained and everything. I even have my own church, but that's neither here nor there. You don't seem to like men of the cloth. Were you an altar boy as a child?" There wasn't much Balaur considered taboo that any normal creature would. The religious scandals were the sweetest bits of news to reach his kind. Remy could feel the small spark of magic, which piqued his interest slightly but not enough to make anything out of it. He made a mental note to comment on it later, although the unspoken question was answered soon enough.
"So angry. I like it. Please continue." Resting his head on his hands now, he listened intently though his face assumed a look of bland disinterest. "I haven't had my ear to the ground for three months. Sorry it took so long. This isn't Los Angeles, am I right?" He chuckled at his own little joke. "Fucking--now there's an interesting thought. Are you sure this is the kind of bug you think it is? Are you basing your opinion off a shiny pair of wings or is there more to the story?" The slightest frown touched his eyebrows.