And Remy picked that exact moment to come barreling around the corner.
His head was still ringing, having suffered the full fury of Emma's psychic shout not two minutes ago; he'd been innocently going about his business, trying to duck as much of the action as he possibly could. People were running around, shouting about attacks and Magneto and it was all very garbled, but what he'd managed to take from it was that a) there were unwelcome visitors in the mansion and b) those visitors wanted to hurt people. And in spite of the good streak in him that he'd been contemplating more and more over the past few days, Remy didn't have it in him to be a hero, especially an untrained one.
He'd been on his way to his room - Logan's room - when Emma's voice had crashed through his brain, stopping him dead in his tracks. THE CHILDREN, REMY. THEY'RE MISSING. GO TO THE BASEMENT.
No internal debate had raged, he'd simply turned and started running. There was being a hero, sure, and he wasn't cut out for that shit, but he'd be no kind of man if he let a bunch of helpless kids go unprotected. Maybe he couldn't do much but distract whatever was down there with them, but better him than the kids.
So into the basement he'd gone, and around the corner, and there he stopped dead for a second time, only this time it was more out of fear than shock, a liquid terror that turned his legs to jelly. There he was, larger than life, the stuff of fucking nightmares.
"Christ Almighty damn," he breathed. "You gotta be kiddin' me..."