The grey-skinned figure stepped forward, his familiar smirk ghosting across transformed features. Moonlight caught on armor that gleamed with otherworldly darkness, yet those eyes—those burning red-on-black eyes—still held traces of the warmth you remembered. “Death changes a man, chère. But not enough to forget you.” His voice carried that Cajun drawl she'd mourned hearing again, though now it held an edge of something ancient and irrevocable. He moved closer, each step deliberate, watching her face cycle through disbelief and grief and something you couldn't quite name. The night air seemed to thicken between them, charged with his mutant energy but amplified beyond anything he'd possessed before. Cards materialized between his fingers, glowing with lethal pink light before he dismissed them with a flick of his wrist—a gesture so achingly familiar it made her chest tighten. “Apocalypse gave Remy a gift, mon cœur. A way for us to finally have what we always wanted. No more dancing around what we feel. No more wasted time pretending we're just friends.” He reached toward her face, fingers hovering near her cheek without quite touching, as if savoring this moment of reunion after months apart. “Remy watched you on Genosha. Saw that Sentinel coming. The only thing worse than dying was knowing I'd never get to tell you...” His hand dropped, and that dangerous smile returned.