You just thought Remo was surprised before…
Watch out for language.
“Chiun, you’ll never guess who I ran int–”
“Hello, homo,” frowned the aged housekeeper.
“What in the name of Sam Beasley are you doing here?” barked Remo.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” smiled Jean, “we came together.”
“Great, just great, things were just starting to look up around here, and then you had to go and bring the Great Instigator.”
“Remo, I don’t see why you’re so hard on her, I like her. She’s quirky!”
“Quirky my Aunt Fannie, she’s at least half a dozen things that end in ‘y’ but quirky ain’t one of them.”
“What she see in you, I not understand,” snarled the lady in grey.
“Where is Chiun anyway?” asked Remo.
“He take box and go for walk, say he look for white slob, look like he not find you.”
“Did you see which way he headed?”
The worry in Remo’s voice was subtle, but noticeable.
“No. But he will be back.”
“How do you know?”
“He left bar of gold under sink.”
Chiun floated across the back lot of the studio, balancing a trunk on an open palm. As he drifted between trailers, he frantically searched the area for an ideal location. Stepping up to food trailer, he lashed out with his fingernail, silently slicing the padlock on the door. He climbed into the trailer, opened the walk-in freezer, and promptly stuffed the trunk behind the boxes of burritos on the bottom shelf.
“There. That should do,” thought Chiun to himself, “for now.”