where the wild things are

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

"Yes, very sure." Remi chuckles as he bites off the last bit of white flesh from his apple. "Though I could be very easily tempted back to bed, if you like." He adds with a sunny smile, tossing the core into the underbrush where he's sure something will scamper away with the last of it.

'How?" Remi grins. "Being confined in the trees is going to be both better and worse. Better, because you will not have your full range of motion. Worse, because you will hate that you don't." He says with a shrug. "Basically, you are going to shift, and I am going to try to harass you into attacking me and you are going to do everything you can to keep yourself in check."