Remy kept his face dark and raised his finger to his lips. He whispered back to the blue man, "don' wanna aler' him." He knew it was a male intruder already; the style of the boot print made it pretty clear.
And then he noticed.. Psylocke?? He quickly remembered the dimensional contortions, you heard abou' de dimensional issues? Because where I'm from... I haven' spen' enough time ge''ing to know you...
His gaze subtly moved up and down the telepath's perfectly toned legs. Don' drool on de job, Cajun.
His face goes a shade darker at the mention of who it was. Merde. Creed. He's probably already smelled us by now... A plan quickly forms in his mind, Psylocke, can you pinpoin' him? He's probably already on de move...
Non looking for a figh'? Dat ain' like him... His hands clenched his staff with white-knuckled anger.
Remy couldn't help the small smirk that crossed his face at the thought of a weakened, defeated Sabretooth. It quickly faded as he remembered the screams of the Morlocks...