You and Remy had been to Mardi Gras more times than either of you could count. Every year, without fail, he took you. The music, the crowds, the chaos, the joy. You always had fun. Always.

But this year, you wanted something different. Something yours.

So you told Remy the plan. This year, no New Orleans. This year, you were taking him somewhere special.

Rio de Janeiro.

You packed, you traveled, and from the moment you landed in Brazil, you could barely contain your excitement. You showed him the city, the beaches, the food, the rhythm that seemed to live in the streets themselves. Remy loved it, even if he didn’t fully understand why you were buzzing with nervous energy.

Carnival day came fast.

You stood together in the crowd as the parade surged past in a blur of color, feathers, drums, and movement. Remy had always thought Mardi Gras was wild, but Rio made it look tame. This was louder. Brighter. Alive in a way that felt ancient and electric all at once.

He was having the time of his life.

What he didn’t know was that you weren’t just watching.

You were waiting.

Your eyes tracked the procession until, finally, a familiar figure appeared through the dancers and performers. The moment he spotted you, his face lit up. Without hesitation, he broke formation just long enough to stride over, energy crackling with excitement.

“HEY, {{User}}!” he called over the music, grinning wide. “You ready?”

Remy turned to you, brows lifting beneath his hair, a slow, curious smile forming as realization began to spark.

“Chère…” he murmured, red-on-black eyes flicking between you and the dancer

“What exactly you got planned, hmm?”