being thief doesn’t only mean taking things from unwilling, blood-coated hands, nor does that only mean throwing oneself into grand adventures and THRILL; oh, the thrill. remy sucks teeth, eyes quickly going through the area ( no, he’s not stealing anything tonight; but it’s been a while and his muscles are ACHING ). it also means being in a business of KNOWING people, recognizing the threat before it appears in a form of a blade inches away from your throat, or recognizing an opportunity in a form of a person. he also has seen enough to know when someone’s not about to fall for his gimmicks, innocent as they might be right now. does she even know who he is ? remy pushes his glasses up and closer to his eyes, to shield two pair of reds that tend to rip off his disguise. not that he’s trying to hide his nature that much. is it weirder to acknowledge and be acknowledged or keep his mouth shut ? is it odd for him to stand here, chatting up a lady behind the desk as if waiting, lurking, or is it something so casual she’s going to think he’s just one of employees, business associates, something-something... he did always dress sharp enough to pass just as that exactly. here goes nothing.. ! ❛ bonjour, miss. lovely day outside, ain’t it ? ❜