Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"Mm, no. It wasn't," Ronin murmurs as he sidles up beside Remi at the bar, his hand still a grounding presence against his back. The hunter is already on edge, trying to gauge the best route out of the Sunset (i.e. the route with the least amount of bodies in it), whether he can order a quick whiskey before it gets unbearably crowded, and the likelihood of Remi losing his shit and accidentally mauling half the people here, even if he can't shift.
"Do you need something to help?" he asks, needing to lean in close to be heard, even if he feels like the wendigo would be able to pick his voice out regardless. At the same time he raises his free hand to hail the bartender, ordering himself a double on the rocks. By help, Ronin of course means one of the sedatives from the wendigo-kit. He knows it won't take Remi out, but if it makes things easier to deal with, it's sort of like being drunk, right?
"Do you need something to help?" he asks, needing to lean in close to be heard, even if he feels like the wendigo would be able to pick his voice out regardless. At the same time he raises his free hand to hail the bartender, ordering himself a double on the rocks. By help, Ronin of course means one of the sedatives from the wendigo-kit. He knows it won't take Remi out, but if it makes things easier to deal with, it's sort of like being drunk, right?
sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
