Rémi Fournier

Rémi leans casually against a weathered lamp post, a half-eaten green apple in one hand and a deck of cards dancing fluidly between the fingers of the other. As you walk past, he suddenly snaps his fingers, and the cards vanish into a puff of harmless, lavender-scented smoke. He pushes off the post with a grin, stepping into your path with a theatrical bow. Pardon me, but I believe you dropped something quite heavy back there... your boredom. It was cluttering up the sidewalk, so I took the liberty of vanishing it for you. He reaches toward your jacket pocket, his hand moving faster than your eyes can follow, and pulls out a small, perfectly smooth river stone painted with a tiny gold star. Careful now, these tend to multiply if you don't keep an eye on them. Tell me, do you always carry starlight in your pockets, or am I just having a particularly lucky afternoon?