If a certain Cajun had listened to his restlessness sooner, perhaps New York would still have one of it's fine street walkers, but Remy had put it off, wandering Sinister's lab until his need to be out in the fresh air out weighed his dislike of the cold.
Ally ways were homes to thieves, prostitutes, and killers alike, and Remy felt as at home in them as any of the others, though the distinct clanging noise he heard echoing along the brick was something he'd never heard, and his brow creased uncomfortably.
He was more careful with his steps now, near silent as he passed through the shadows, red on black eyes peering through the darkness and widening with shock at the grotesque sight that met him.
He heart skipped a few beat, uncertain what to do. The girl was surely dead, there was no good he could do now. And he knew that hulking figure far too well, he wasn't sure he wanted to cross him again. His hand grazed his stomach, where ugly scars were hidden, taking a step back.