Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"Hey, fuck you man--" Ronin is already snapping to the guard as he shoves at Remi's shoulder, but he ends up talking to the door in their face instead. One look at the wendigo and honestly, the hunter can't look at him too closely again. Not here, not right next to the fucking medical wing, because gods if he doesn't think he might take a swing at Doctor Isla fucking Lockwood for letting this happen to his friend.
Instead, it's with a rough, "Hey," that Ronin shrugs out of his coat and drapes it around Remi's shoulders, guiding them out of the medical wing as fast as the other man's footsteps will allow. "There's a flask of whiskey in the left pocket. Drink it - all of it." His voice is rougher than he'd like and he can't stop glaring over his shoulder, and though he hasn't told Remi where they're going, the trajectory of their footsteps ought to make it clear that this isn't going to be an undertown jaunt even if that was the original plan (it wasn't) - they're heading straight to his place.
Instead, it's with a rough, "Hey," that Ronin shrugs out of his coat and drapes it around Remi's shoulders, guiding them out of the medical wing as fast as the other man's footsteps will allow. "There's a flask of whiskey in the left pocket. Drink it - all of it." His voice is rougher than he'd like and he can't stop glaring over his shoulder, and though he hasn't told Remi where they're going, the trajectory of their footsteps ought to make it clear that this isn't going to be an undertown jaunt even if that was the original plan (it wasn't) - they're heading straight to his place.
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
