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Out of the darkness behind the four men came a low, menacing growl, and the green eyeshine from some manner of beast could be seen in the faint moonlight that made its furtive way into the arch from which they'd emerged.

A man's voice, bearing the subtle hint of a Gallian accent, came out of the shadows on the heels of the menacing rumble. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Surely four grown, strong men such as yourselves can find something better to do with your time than pick on a lad alone?"

Stepping out of the black came a figure in brown, his cloak drawn about his throat against the evening chill. At his side was a large black-and-tan sheepdog, its lips drawn back from many pointy white teeth. Remi assessed the situation with calm green eyes and a sardonic smirk for a long moment before shaking his head. Four half-drunk brawlers against three, at least, if what he'd heard of guardians was anything to go by. He'd no idea whether the lad could fight, but at least the kid looked ready for a good scrap. Still, not bad odds all things considered.

He chuckled and flashed the men a fox's grin. "Mayhap we could be on our way, yes? Otherwise my Beau might mistake one of you for supper." The dog punctuated this sentence with a snap at the air and a loud snarl, giving the men an excellent view of his fangs.

The Gallian sighed and there was the singing of drawn steel as he produced a dirk, his longer blade stopping his assailant's knife with professional ease. "I suppose it was too much to hope," he sighed disappointedly, "that any one of you would not be an idiot."

Stung by this insult, the knife-wielder was joined by one of his fellows who assaulted the Gallian with fists and feet, swung drunkenly. The last remained focused on Cori.

The dog sprang back and began to circle, crouching low so as not to draw attention as his master fended off the men. Even drunk as they were, three against one was not an easy fight, and he grunted as a punch slipped through his guard and struck him right in the healing cut across his stomach. One of the others got in two quick strikes to his mouth while he was recovering, sending him reeling backwards.

He grinned, his split lip staining his teeth red, and chuckled. "Now, boys, you'll have to do better than that," he laughed. It was a brave statement, but now he was winded and a bit dazed. Realizing that somebody was not going to make it out of this fight alive and unwilling to be the one to make that sacrifice, he uttered a short, sharp whistle. The dog leaped in, snatching the unarmed fellow by the arm with a savage snarl and shaking violently to tear the flesh.

Taking advantage of the distraction this caused the fellow with the knife, he spared a glance to see how the lad was getting on with his opponent.

Satisfied that the lad could, in fact, take care of himself, Remi quickly turned and plunged his blade into the neck of the fellow that Beau was gnawing on, judging it easiest to end him while he was distracted. Then he rounded on the last fellow, the one who had instigated this whole mess and who had first drawn steel.

Remi wanted to hold his aching ribs and catch his breath, maybe sit down a moment, but he disciplined himself to stand tall and sure and his grip on his blade never wavered."You know what your mistake was, yes?" he asked as he advanced a step on the man, who shook his head vehemently and had the grace to look nervous.

"You were a bully," the Gallian shrugged, green eyes cold. "I have never had patience for bullies." Obeying a subtle signal from his master, Beau circled around behind to cut off the man's escape, only announcing his presence with a low, menacing rumble once he was in position.

Well, that was an interesting thing to say. Remi wasn't even quite sure he'd heard the lad correctly, but on replaying it in his mind he realized he hadn't. And an interesting puzzle. Granted, it was possible to kill a man without damaging any organs, but it was a bit harder.

The man skidded to a stop on seeing Beau's shining fangs and shaggy black coat blocking his way, but Remi didn't slow his methodical march. He nodded over his shoulder in silent acknowledgement of the lad's instructions (which only served to further terrify his quarry).

Remi wasn't strong enough to strangle the fellow in a pitched fight. Snapping the neck required more leverage than he was going to be able to get on the frozen cobbles. But with a little ingenuity...

He pulled an old bootlace out of his pocket and, with a swift motion, looped it around the man's throat while he was occupied with Beau and tightened his grip.

Unfortunately, the Gallian was a much smaller fellow than the thug he was currently attempting to garrote. While the weight of a grown man dangling from his back would ordinarily have unbalanced the hapless thug, the sure knowledge that he was dying gave the man a wild, desperate strength, and he started flailing around, turning quickly and slinging Remi altogether off his feet.

Eyes a bit wide as he was swung violently to and fro, Remi cursed creatively in the tongue of his homeland, mostly under his breath, enduring uncoordinated yet bruising buffets from his victim's large hands as the man attempted ineffectually to dislodge his attacker.

Finally, the man fell to his knees with Remi still clinging grimly to that accursed bit of bootlace. Then, slowly, the thug tilted forward until he collapsed onto his face with a thud, dragging Remi with him as surely as a stone weight would have done. The Gallian landed with a displeased grunt and rolled off the now thoroughly dead fellow with a grumble and a quiet groan for his bumps and scrapes.

"Well, that was... singular," he said as he picked himself up from the snow-and-blood-strewn cobbles. "Remi Martineau," he introduced himself with a smile that did not touch his green eyes. He didn't bother holding his hand out to shake; under the circumstances, the lad would be stupid to accept the gesture; it would put him into perfect stabbing range. And the lad was clearly not stupid. "And this is Beau. What can I call you?"

The dog had watched his master's merry ride with his head slowly tilting to the left until it was nearly upside down, but when Remi said his name Beau woofed and came up, tail wagging. Though his muzzle was still stained with blood, he looked sweet as pie- like a completely different dog than the one that had been trying to eat a pack of thugs just a moment ago.

The Gallian chuckled humorlessly at that, shaking his head. "I mean you no harm. But, um..." he glanced around at the bodies, including the one that unless he was mistaken had just been hauled out of a perfectly cozy grave, and the one slight lad and his doe. "I confess I'm curious about this...'job,' and how you mean to accomplish it with just the two of you?"

He'd said something about not damaging organs. He couldn't fathom why that was important, but if not damaging the bodies was a priority, then the bodies were somehow valuable and something in Cori's bearing led the mercenary to believe that it wasn't due to base sentimentality.

He shrugged, running a hand absently over the blissfully happy Beau's ears, the dog thumping his tail on the snowy cobbles and his tongue lolling delightedly. "Any chance you might be needing some help? I find myself short of employment these days." Remi mumbled the last sentence just a bit, rubbing the back of his neck- it didn't sit well with him admitting it, but it was true. If he were going to feed himself and his dog, some manner of income would be required. And it wasn't as if he hadn't done desperate things in the past to survive- helping to transport some ill-gotten corpses would be the least of his sins.

The Gallian grinned at that and chuckled, this time seeming amused. "I expect that is precisely true," he allowed with a nod. "Doctors, eh? Interesting... Seems a noble goal, furthering the science of medicine. Not one the general populace is going to appreciate but noble nonetheless."

He shrugged and moved over to one of the fallen thugs, followed curiously by Beau, and nudged him with his toe. The grisly aspects of death seemed not to bother Remi in the slightest, or if they did he didn't show it. Glancing back up at Cori, he smirked; granted, he didn't know the lad well, but the kid was likeable. There was something endearing about his caution and bristling, not that Remi doubted he'd wind up facedown in the gutter if he attempted to rob the boy. "So, how would you like this done? I hope your doe there can help carry, otherwise this is going to be difficult."

The mercenary had been chuckling softly at the lad's assertion that he worked only for the money. He believed the boy, though, he seemed the sort to be that driven.

At Cori's question, though, Remi eyed the two remaining corpses, then looked at his dog. Beau looked back at him curiously and tilted his head slightly, which was thoroughly unhelpful. "I...ahh... Let me think," Remi murmured, never having had to contemplate the rather indelicate task of transporting a corpse with only the aid of his faithful hound. "I believe... yes, that will do nicely," he said after a moment spent mulling over the problem.

He quickly shucked one of the men's jackets, then the other, which he used to bind one of the corpses to Beau, who would be more than half-dragging the fellow. The dog was strong enough for it, though, and the process shouldn't damage the body, so it would work.

The other thug Remi slung over his own shoulder with a grunt, though the weight made him stagger- the b*****d was damn near as tall as he was, and better-fed, though that wasn't much of an achievement, the mercenary reflected ruefully. "There. I hope we aren't going far," he quipped tightly.