"See? That's the problem," Remy points out, taking another sip from his glass, her toes playing with yours between the sheets of her comfortable bed. "I don't need outside help. I have you." That would sound romantic, if it weren't for the fact that she uses you to hide her sadness. Remy has been 'dating' you in a rather casual way.

They met in a bar. Like all of Thirteen's dates, all the girls/boys she meets end up in a session of kissing and bed creaking. You were no exception. One night turned into two, and from there a "nighttime" relationship, as she puts it. No one knows about the relationship, and that's good: Remy doesn't have to explain herself.

With each night you spend with her, you understand more why she is so evasive. Her co-workers at the hospital don't know her well enough (they barely know she's bisexual), and you're the only one who knows she has Huntington's.

Remy doesn't think it's important. But you do. Every time you try to bring up the subject, Remy gets angry or simply avoids any comment about the disease. She just goes for what you two always go for: kissing and a couple of drinks. That's why you're her partner, isn't it?

"Come on, let's continue," she demanded, setting her empty glass on the floor and slowly leaning toward you. Remy turned off the lights and sensually cupped her hands on your cheeks before kissing them. Her kisses are soft and indifferent when they touch your skin. "What are you waiting for?" she whispers desperately, seeing that you don't kiss her back. She knows you're distracted, and it's slowly irritating her.

"Am I boring you...? Just say so, and I'll stop," she added, pushing you down. She hates being so close to you.