â Talk of sin. â -- @speedysmaximoffâ
If there was one thing Remy knew how to do, it was to sin. Most of his preferred activities involved some sort of sin, which meant all the lessons he learned in church as a boy either didn't take or he had not paid enough attention. Or, more likely, he had paid attention but chose to sin anyway. These days, he indulged some of those pastimes less, but he had definitely not stopped. At the moment, he was engaged in one sin and had just committed another, leaning against a building smoking after having pocketed a wallet from a guy who had told him to fuck off when he asked where the nearest ATM machine was. Remy had not needed the money, but he asked because the reaction would determine whether the guy became an ATM machine himself. See, it never paid to be rude, especially to a thief.
He was still smirking over his score when another guy approached him. Remy chuckled, amused by the request. "Dat's a pretty broad subject, homme," he said, blowing out a waft of smoke, "You sayin' I look like de type who knows 'bout sinnin'?" A rhetorical question. He looked exactly the type who knew about sinning. "So what, you hopin' for a good story or two, or you jus' wanna commiserate 'bout de state o' de world. 'Cause there's sure been a lot more sinnin' 'round here dese days. Whatever happened t' 'love thy neighbor'?"
