Over the years, Remy's been hit by a lot of pain. He'd even been stabbed through the heart once.

Should have killed him. Somehow didn't.

Still, the pain and feeling of something being pulled out of him is...more than a bit disconcerting. Enough to drive him to his knees, eyes clenched tight behind the period appropriate sunglasses they'd given him, muttering a string of curses under his breath that were only partly in English.

Eventually, though, it settles, leaving him panting for breath and his hands buried in...something furry.

"'S all right." He opens his eyes to find a fox beneath his hands. A perfectly normal fox. Other than the fact that it's talking to him. "Reckon it's gonna take a moment for you to get your head back t'gether, hein?"

Remy blinks for a long moment before laughing, gathering the fox close. "'Course you'd have a yat."

"'Course." As though it's the most natural thing in the world. "New Orleans through and through, we are." A flick of the vixen's tail thumped against his ribs. "Gisele," she says, replying to the question he hasn't asked. "Gigi if you want to, 'course. Or if Rogue wants to."