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Hmm. He hadn't anticipated explaining that particular facet of his existence just yet... He could always lie, but Cori seemed like a sharp lad and Remi wasn't a particularly adroit liar. He never had been. Well, in for a sheep, in for a lamb...

"Well..." he ventured, "I'd been hoping to spend the night under the hedgerow against the western wall. Seemed like it'd keep off the worst of the wind and snow," he admitted. He'd have shrugged uncomfortably, but weighed down by the corpse slung over his shoulder, the motion seemed more likely to unbalance him than communicate his embarrassment over his current lack of means. He did, however, venture a glance at Cori's face to see if he could detect a change in the lad's expression. "But it seems life had other plans."

Remi felt the familiar wash of shame at Cori's statement, could feel his shoulders tense... until the lad continued. That got the Gallian's attention- the boy was, or had been homeless too?

He'd been starting to comment on the latent xenophobia of Sunderland, was considering asking how it was that they failed to take care of even one of their own sons until the lad wheeled on him.

Remi stopped short, eyebrows raising in surprise, and the sudden shift of his heavy load made him grunt softly in pain as it pulled his healing wound and new bruises. Ahead, Beau stopped as well, looking back curiously (having to duck his head a bit to peer past his burden) to see what the matter was.

The mercenary frowned as a series of unpleasant memories danced across his mind's eye and once again stopped himself before he shrugged (as it would've just shifted his leaden burden again) "I have a particular dislike of bullies," he answered, something dark and distant in his tone and eyes as he said it.

Remi tilted his head in silent acceptance at Cori's admission- he'd have suspected much the same in the lad's place, and if being misjudged truly bothered him he'd have left Sunderland weeks ago.

Once inside the building, Remi tensed and looked around. It brought back most unpleasant memories, only one small, guttering flame to hold back the shadows in a space so confined... He sighed and tried not to think about what would happen should the light go out.

Shuffling over to the table he divested himself of his burden and stretched with a grimace, his back popping painfully. Ai, what a night. But then Beau padded over, carrying his own corpse, and Remi unbound the fellow and slung him up on the table too with a grunt of effort, then rubbed his side where his healing cut ached for the exertion. The bodies thusly delivered, he gave the lad a nod and stepped away, letting him conclude the business since he knew how this was meant to go, but kept his mouth shut. His accent would give away enough about his identity that he wasn't willing to trust it to this new fellow just yet. If ever.

Remi was only too eager to leave, pausing to take a deep breath once they were outside. Beau put his head under his master's hand with a whine, and the ex-mercenary smiled and gave the dog a pat. It had been quite a long day, indeed.

"Thanks," he said to Cori, patting his pocket where he'd tucked the coin he'd earned. "It's good to have honest work for a change. Do you have someplace to stay tonight?"

He thought about it a moment but shook his head. "Thanks, but I couldn't impose," he said. "I was going to go see about a bite to eat, though. Care to come?" He was a bit surprised to discover that he found the lad's companionship agreeable, but the boy's rough honesty had its appeal. "There's a tavern not too far away with fair prices for decent fare, and there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Soi'd probably kill him for his loose lips, but somehow he felt he could trust the lad to stay out of it if the proposition wasn't to his liking.

With an easy grin, Remi led the way. True to his word, the tavern was not far- only about a block through the twisting streets, and it was still open. The warm light from the windows spilled invitingly onto the darkened, snowy streets and he preceded Cori inside, pausing in the doorway a moment to see that the clientele didn't look any more dangerous than usual. Stepping aside for Cori to enter, he nodded towards a table that was just a little more solitary than the others, but still near enough the fire that they'd be warm.

Once they were seated and orders taken, Remi leaned back in his chair and scratched Beau's ears where the dog rested his chin on his master's knee and contemplated how to broach the subject. He wasn't much for this cloak-and-dagger stuff, but he understood the necessity of discretion. "So, I might know of a group that could help you see some more work, if you'd be interested in such a thing," he began slowly. "It's run by a friend of mine, and she's good people. I think she'd like you. Not sure if you'd care for their politics or if you'd even care about it at all. They're sort of private folk, though. Can I trust you to hold your tongue?" Keen green eyes took the measure of the lad here in the firelight, watching his expression closely. He thought he could trust the boy, but hopefully his answer would clinch it.

The mercenary shifted in his chair and sighed. He was grateful to be back by a fire, feeling the warmth seep through his skin into his bones was a luxury he knew far too seldom these days. Indeed, the last time had been in the company of Miss Brennain, and what an evening that had been. God knew he had no intention of repeating the experience anytime soon.

"Alright. I can't tell you more than I'm welcome to, but I'll tell you what I can. They're not out to cause trouble, no intent to overthrow anybody. So they say, anyway, and from what I can tell it's the truth. I know they have work from time to time that pays, and I know how to teach a man to hold a sword. Mayhap they'd have use for your talents too."

Remi shut up and sat back as the barmaid came to take their orders. He asked for a mug of cheap ale and two bowls of the house stew. It had been a good night and too long since he and Beau had seen a good meal; he fully intended to share the bounty with his canine partner.

"I'd be a fool to turn you down," the Gallian said with a chuckle and a grin that warmed his green eyes. He was promptly distracted, however, by his dinner, which smelled delicious. With a small sound of appreciation, he tucked into the bowl with a will. Thanks to Soi he wasn't quite as desperate as he had been this time a week ago, but he still had more than a few missed meals to make up for.

"I should thank you," he continued once the worst edge of his hunger had been slaked. "For your hospitality and your kindness. Most of Sunderland isn't so friendly to foreigners," he pointed out bluntly, gesturing with his spoon to the rest of the tavern, which, of course, held nothing but other Sunderlanders, or at least folks who would pass for them. The Gallian smiled, and it was warm and sincere, if faintly amused in a self-deprecating way. "So... thank you!"