it’s not often that remy comes to the blue parrot lounge to dry her tears. sometimes the MAGNITUDE of it all just…hits her full on. and it’s almost too much to handle. that she really was…dead. that nathaniel had finally managed to kill her, and that she was going to be wandering the cortez, confused and alone for the rest of time. it was a lot to process, sometimes. she sniffles slightly, looking down into the soda in front of her. ❛ you’re a very kind woman, liz. ❜ she says softly, moving one small hand to cover the other woman’s on top of the bar giving her a small, teary smile.
her complexion softens with a smile, rosy in its reassurance, as the younger girl ( younger in looks, not necessarily in age) rests her palm atop liz’s & that quiet, hoarse voice reaches her ears. her opposite, free hand, in turn, comes to repose over remy’s own, a slight squeeze given in an effort to offer further comfort. while the compliment is appreciated, remy’s wellbeing takes the position in the forefront of her mind, of her concerns. a click of tongue is substituted for a show of thanks, beam widening. ❛ ––– you know i’m alwayshere for you, honey. ❜
