Remy loved grenade-armed assholes. They made life worth living. Well that and all he had to do was throw one right back. But he enjoyed the false cheerfulness that she supplied him. "So we be exchangin' numbers now?" He asked teasingly.
Charging the bo again, he twirled it, hoping to actually get rid of the human heart bits off the damn thing while he used his other hand to shake the dirt out of his hair. "Oui. I got de seven of dem." Collapsing the bo, he pocketed it again as he stood in front of her. "Love de smell of charred flesh in de afternoon." He told her sarcastically. "You t'ink dey be fairin' out any better?" Hell if he didn't expect someone to ask him what took them so long once they did head inside.