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There was a note for Tim on the bulletin board, sealed in the envelope was a detailed direction sheet to a hidden cache where a few things that had been misplaced during the hubbub surrounding the explosion had been re-hidden.

After making sure that no one had seen him pin the envelope to the board, Remy slipped off to Solaria for some coffee, the meteor shower itself had been interesting enough, but not having his powers had been surprisingly jarring, sort of like losing a sense, and he was intent on not letting it bother him now that he had them back. Hence: caffeine.

It was entirely possible that Remy was actually looking for trouble.

He was bored, and when he was bored the survival instinct went waaaay down and he did things that weren't normally considered 'safe', such as using the banister instead of the stairs, though that was really the least of it.

Just at the moment he was out at the archery range, using pebbles instead of arrows, never charging them more than a good pop, not-quite firecracker intense, but that wouldn't last long.

Remy was bored. Really this was nothing new, and it should have been a surprise that he hadn't gotten more bored before now.

Just at the moment he was perched at the bar in one of the restaurants, rolling a coin back and forth across his knuckles and making a mental checklist of things that he could do.

The only problem with most of them was that he wasn't that bored yet, and was just this side of too edgy, he'd been in one place for too long and he was getting that 'have to move on' feeling.

In any case, thief innabar, not specifically looking for trouble, but he certainly wouldn't turn it away if it wanted to talk.

There was a young man and two overly excited puppies in the lobby, he'd managed to wrangle them together at least, for long enough to write a note and pin it to the board.

It was simple enough and said:

Two puppies, free to a good home
Formerly belonged to one Ms. Wanda Maximoff
Please contact the guy with the puppies,
or Remy in Room #152

Just at the moment, he was tossing a ball for them, smiling faintly at the scrabble-footed running when they went off after it.

Remy was out and about on a walk around the hotel, as he was prone to doing these days, too damn cold outside for a bayou boy, and nothing much to hold his interest inside, at least, not for long.

Previously he'd alleviated this boredom with a game of shuffleboard/ninepins that he'd made up himself.
That particular morning he was setting the game up again in one of the far and away upstairs corridors, out of the way of the usual foot-traffic, when something rumbled beneath him.

Being the firebug, and, after all, explosion-bug that he was, he arched a brow, "T'at's interestin'." And it was interesting enough to bear further investigation.

Of course, when he saw the actual destruction he swore, quite creatively, in Creole, French, and oddly enough, Hindi.

Hop, hop, hop.

The Bunny eyes the empty lobby again, just to make sure it is still empty. If anyone sees him doing this, he's in big trouble. But sometimes, well, all the time really, he just has to follow his programming.

Which is telling him, someone has to pay.

So it is that he's carrying a small object, just about the size of an easter egg. Actually, it's painted to look like one too. But with some advanced knowledge, and future technology, the Bunny has created something quite powerful.

"Happy Birthday, buddy." With a quick two hops, he slams the egg into the delivery shoot and hits the button with both feet. After a smooth landing, his beady red eyes stare upwards, waiting for a rush of fire down the tube to tell him he's the new Manager of this place.

BOOM!

As pieces of the residence begin to fall down around his head, he can say but one thing.

"Oops."

((OOC:This is it boys and girls, the big badda boom! Enjoy yourselves.))