Remy's game face is back on. Inside there is still a lingering trace of a smirk... Mon dieu, he always good, he thought to himself as half of his mind was devoted to running flashbacks of Logan fucking him over the security console... him fucking Logan over the chair... the two of them more or less attacking each other with their tongues as they writhed around on the floor... Alrigh' Cajun, back on de job. Don' jus' t'ink abou' sex all de time..
In a way, its almost sickly comical... Fuckin' in a slaughterhouse. But he recognizes something early... not'ing has changed. Those three words of doom changed absolutely nothing about Logan's demeanour. Merci.
He follows Logan. Remy's good in a populated, urban area where information can be found from other people... but sparsely-populated horror-show warzones where everything is out to kill you? Easily Logan's territory.
At Logan's mention of Ororo, Remy suddenly feels a slight pang of regret. De firs' X-Man dat trus'ed me. He wished for a glance of her again.. but he quickly shut the feelings away.
Firs', le's find Hank. He scans the sea of grey steel and reddish-brown decaying gore for any slight wisps of blue. Logan's sight would be more likely to pick them up.
On the wall; hanging against the corner of a screen... a faint trace of blue. Remy dashed over and picked it up. A fibre... soft and pliable, obviously Hank's.
"Cher, here's one. Now we jus' need anot'er for bearing..." take two points then follow the line that joined them. Given one point was right next to a wall, finding the overall direction shouldn't be too hard.