Sawyer had picked him up right off. Remy was definitely from the Bayou. He looked like he had just come straight from there. In Sawyer's line of work, he had kept the accent he was born with but the carried himself in a more businesslike manner, at least while stateside. On the island, packing a rifle, that was another matter.
"Greetings," he said, that Georgian drawl coming through, "I thought I would recognize you when you came in." He held out a hand, keeping it professional for now. "Sawyer Ford." He wasn't sure what all the Cajun planned for a casino but he imagined a gambling den with cards and dice.