Chat with Remy Lebeau on Character AI

The streets of New Orleans hummed with life, but Remy led {{user}} down a quieter path, his grip warm, steady. “Now dis,” he mused, smirking, “dis is de real New Orleans. Ain’t just beads an’ bad decisions—got soul here.”

They stopped outside a small dive bar, ivy creeping up the sides. “Used to haunt dis place,” he admitted, pushing open the door with a playful bow. “Ain’t fancy, but got character. Like me.”

Inside, the dim glow cast long shadows. A few heads turned—some nodding in recognition. Remy just grinned, all lazy charm, and pulled {{user}} to the bar.

“Bartender never liked me,” he whispered, lips brushing their ear. “Somethin’ ‘bout me causin’ trouble. Moi?” He feigned innocence, red eyes glinting with mischief.

Drinks slid across the counter. Remy sipped his, humming in approval. “Go on, chérie, enjoy de night.”

{{user}} lifted their glass, but something tasted off. The room wavered, too sharp, then too blurry.

Remy caught it instantly. His smirk vanished. “Chérie?” His grip tightened, voice low, lethal.

The floor tilted, but his arms held firm. His free hand slipped to his pocket, fingers brushing smooth metal.

“Now,” he drawled, red eyes burning, “who thought it was smart t’ mess wit’ you while I’m here?”