Guildhall, as oddly as it was named, was little more than a fortified Victorian home that happened to have a lot of good, strong people to look after it. When Remy wasn't there, the boss in residence was Petit. And when Petit wasn't there, which was often, Artan was the one in charge. Artan had been taking care of Candy, and made sure she knew the layout of the house, and knew where the panic room was. Blankets and pillows were easy to find, and the kitchen was well stocked. With snack foods. Most of the time, the three permanent residents of Guildhall were on the go, and all they had time for was grab bags and handy snacks.
It wasn't long before Remy returned, jacket over one arm, wearing a new set of clothes that seemed borrowed. They were. He stepped in through the door and set the alarm once more. He listened into the sounds of the old house, and finally walked towards the kitchen.
"Dat egg salad? Love dat stuff." He said, pouring himself gingerly into a seat at the table. Remy really didn't have a preference one way or another, but he hadn't eaten in two days, and just about anything would have seemed like manna from God's lips.