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That sounded like a lie the moment she said it. A lighter shaped like a gun? Sure, the existed, but the way she said it, the words twisted inside him and didn’t seem to hold truth. Of course, he just chalked that one up to her being secretive again. That was the picture he had painted in his head of her, a mysterious woman with walls she was careful not to let down. Her statement did two things, though. Firstly, it made him investigate everything she had previously said. Was she natural to lying? Something told him she could be very convincing when she wanted to be, which also happened to make her dangerous. Because the other thing her words told him was that she was missing a gun.

“Oh yeah? What’s Australia’s police force like?” Remi, as a general rule, didn’t like cops. He had gotten into a lot of trouble when he’d been a kid. Joyriding. Drinking before the proper age. His father had been a wealthy man, but if not for that, he probably would have spent most of his high school years behind bars. Then there were the assault charges that never got pressed. Even if they should have been. Years hadn’t killed his disdain for the police. He didn’t outright do anything against them, because that would just have been stupid, but he intentionally avoided them, and on the rare occasion when one did stop him for something like a traffic violation, he wasn’t exactly the best ‘customer’ to deal with.

He didn’t’ get ‘cop’ from her, for some reason. But that was just his instinct. Or maybe it was prejudice. She was far too pretty.

He was somewhat curious about Australia itself. He had never been there, but apparently he had some family there on his mother’s side. He had learned bits and pieces about it in school, been one of those kids to try vegemite when the teacher brought it in. Woman had lumped two spoonfuls on a bit of toast and he’d thought his mouth was going to die.

But really, it was probably just like anywhere else in he world. Just hotter and sunnier.

So he kept his thoughts to himself, but continued on his way towards the warehouse. And that was when he heard a yelp. He was only a step or so away from her, so all it took was his leaning to grab her by the wrist. He jerked upwards, which normally would have wrenched someone’s arm out of socket (instinct there, not intentional). He ended up with her in his arms, spread across them like his body was some sort of lounge. Her lower back laid against one bicep and her legs dangled over his other arm. The entire transaction of motion took place in the blink of an eye.

He caught sight of something shimmering in the bushes.

“Careful.” He said, though his tone wasn’t chiding. He placed her carefully back down, as if to be sure she hadn’t sprained her ankle. “I think I see something over there.” And then he walked over to grab it up, the gun that had been stashed under a bush. He plucked it up and then glanced off towards the woman. Well that had to be it. Couldn’t be two guns just randomly lying about like that, could there?

That was quite possibly the vaguest answer Remington had ever heard in regards to policing. If someone had said ‘stuff’ in response instead, it would have been roughly equal in his mind. He didn’t peck at that particular issue though, because it really wasn’t his business. He had been idly curious more than anything, but the only time he ever pressed for information was when that information held some sort of value to him. And he had his means of getting it. Roughing up a not-so-delicate, pale flower like the woman whose lighter he was looking for just didn’t seem like a good use of his skill set.

By the time he found it, he was certain that it wasn’t really a lighter though.

He had grown up in Texas, and he knew the way that a gun felt in the hand. He knew the weight of it, and all of the distinct parts. He had seen the gun lighter before, and they were only vaguely shaped the right way, but the distinct pieces weren’t quite right. Usually they were all molded together or tacked on, and it was immediately obvious to him, for that reason, that he was holding a firearm. Which honestly wasn’t that big of a deal to him. Canada had gun laws, but Remi didn’t particularly agree with him, probably the southern boy in him coming out. He owned more than a few illegal weapons and had been known to conceal them when he was in public. To him, it was better for him to be able to step in and stop a violent crime than for him to sit on the sidelines and let something bad happen to another person.

So if the dark haired beauty wanted to keep her protection close, he had no room to judge. Even if she seemed to be able to more than hold her own in a fight one on one. “Yeah, there’s something off. You heard any of the rumours? About zombie and the like?” He didn’t give any cues in the wording to say how he felt one way or the other about the stories that got passed around. He knew about the Quarantine Zone, had been in the city back when the area had been fenced off. That alone had seemed strange to him, but he had forgotten about it within the next year. Since then, all sorts of wild tales had popped up to explain it. Remi didn’t really believe in things he couldn’t see, and he just plain didn’t care. So long as the government wasn’t testing things that could leave behind radiation, it wasn’t his problem.

He let the gun slip into her hands. He might not have entirely understood why she was lying to him, but she didn’t seem deranged or anything like that, something that might have made him want to hold onto the hunk of metal. “Ah. I can see that. Something about you tells me that you feel very comfortable amongst the dead.” It was just a feeling, a gut type thing that he couldn’t have explained if he wanted to. And that was where it was time to make a choice. She’d gotten what she wanted, and he could either head back to the warehouse and hang out or…****. She was wearing a ring. He had been about to ask her out (he’d picked people up in odder circumstances before), but that piece of jewelry was a shiny cockblock.

Whoever had made the gun certainly had an eye for detail. The piece was intricately decorated, and yet entirely functional from what little observation Remington was able to make on it. The truth of the matter was that it was the sort of thing one might have gotten as a gift for a loved one. He wondered for a moment if maybe it was an heirloom, or perhaps had been gifted by the same person who had offered the woman her ring. Or maybe she'd just gotten it for herself. Not a bad thing there. It was a shame when people didn't love themselves enough to enjoy the occasional treat. Remington had no such issue, and didn't really identify well with those who did. Whatever the case, it was a very nice gun. Perhaps he would eventually make a similar customized purchase in the future.

Canada had gun laws.

Canada's gun laws sucked.

None the less, he handed the piece back. "Is that what that whole goth look is about? Are you one of those people who believes in all that supernatural stuff?" he asked, attempting to keep judgment out of his tone. It wasn't strictly a bad thing to believe in the paranormal world. There were some people who went at it with a scientific zeal, and those people he could commend if only because they at least attempted to apply logic to their belief systems. Those who were blindly superstitious Remi had more trouble understanding. He had a hard time with understanding things that he could not see though.

Or maybe the woman was just ******* with him. There was also that possibility he supposed. Whichever case was true, he only regarded her for a moment at those words, not allowing his gaze to linger too long on her slight form. At least, not in a way that might betray that he thought ill of her. Her curiosity was well founded in a place like Harper Rock, where it seemed like rumors of the supernatural popped up as frequently as trendy pop culture in the news. Remi had spent nearly a decade in the city, and the first few years; it had seemed fairly normal. Only in about the past four had things really exploded on that front. He might have considered it suspicious if he had more of an ear to the ground when it came to the paranormal. His natural attention to the waking world somewhat halted that.

He was usually too busy between his dojo and his other line of work to pay much in the way of attention to local news outside of the practical things like crime rates and weather.

"Most goth chicks have a thing for graveyards and such." Which was a terrible oversimplification and fed somewhat into stereotypes, which was to say that the observation about Vel's comfort near the dead was...well it was somewhat unfair. It did not help that the man's suspicions had been somewhat confirmed by his observations, which only served to perpetuate his belief pattern.

"Yeah, sure. What places do you haunt for a good drink?" He asked, before continuing in the direction they had been heading, his assumption that it would be somewhere away from the industrial sector, which tended to have very little in the way of convenient bars. Really the only immediate options were the occasional dive or fast food joint which had grown in prosperity when there had been a steady supply of workers to fill the tables or tabs. "Nah, not much. I probably shouldn't have even brought it up. I only picked up on a few things in passing. Not enough to hold up my end of the conversation really." Which was true enough. It had been intended more as an...ice breaker of sorts. Like how people might have mentioned the weather if only because it was a gateway into far more interesting topics.

"I heard it from two of my students actually I think."

An Irish pub in Canada? He almost wanted to visit, just so that he could see how impossibly racist the establishment might be. Not because he himself had any issue with the Irish (or any race or ethnicity in general), but because it always amused him when an establishment tried to capture the 'feel' of a culture or region. Like those 'Chinese' restaurants owned by men who had never been east of Europe, and had westernized every dish on the menu. Even when things were 'authentic' (which they rarely were), there was a reason those places were out of location for what they were. Trying to replicate an atmosphere on the wrong side of the planet tended to be funny at best, and just plain offensive at worst. But Remington knew offensive. Clearly.

Cool industrial place it was. He figured that he would just follow along after her, and they could drop in when they got there. No need to even mention said Irish pub again. "I assumed the way you dressed yourself was intentional." He replied with a lifted brow. The whole goth look seemed pretty self-explanatory, but her response told him that he had probably stepped in it with her. Not surprising really, he seemed to be pretty good at that when he put his mind to it. "So...you're saying that you don't have a fascination with graveyards or the dead?" He could have been wrong, but something told him that he wasn't.

His stride was naturally long, longer than the woman's, so staying behind her without shuffling along was difficult. "No need to take offense. Just means I was right to leave my book of Poe's works at home. And for future reference, the appropriate response when I strike a nerve is to imply that I'm both muscle-bound and stupid." If a man couldn't poke fun at himself...as it was, they were nearing Wickbridge, and he knew that they had probably already passed the bars, which meant that they were going to take the local transit? He supposed that meant she was going to lead him towards this hidden entrance to the Quarantine zone. That seemed like a terrible idea. Follow the chick that was peeved with him, who had a gun, onto land that was protected by the local government. "Sure thing, Bambi. Just promise not to let your trigger finger slip."

Probably not best to further antagonize, but that was part of his charm. Or. That was what he told himself.