we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
"Mm, I believe we did," Ronin says, smirking at the memory and letting his fingers wander down Remi's side as he also takes in the room around them and everything it might be capable of providing. "Ah, the night is young. I'll meet you in some bathroom downstairs and then take you back up here for a really good time."" Grinning, it feels easy to make those sorts of salacious plans; it distracts Ronin from what they're actually going to be doing.
Nevertheless, they do eventually sidle into a booth at the bar, the Knight having dressed his husband in a soft linen shirt and a burgundy vest, while his own outfit is darker, his midnight blue shirt adorned with a spray of silver patterning. "Oh, I see," he says of the letter, tilting his head as it's set down beside the bottle, even as his hand slips to rest over Remi's knee beneath the table. "I forgot you could receive messages. I suppose I was caught up in everything else." Aoife, he means, obviously.
Nevertheless, they do eventually sidle into a booth at the bar, the Knight having dressed his husband in a soft linen shirt and a burgundy vest, while his own outfit is darker, his midnight blue shirt adorned with a spray of silver patterning. "Oh, I see," he says of the letter, tilting his head as it's set down beside the bottle, even as his hand slips to rest over Remi's knee beneath the table. "I forgot you could receive messages. I suppose I was caught up in everything else." Aoife, he means, obviously.
THE WHITE KNIGHT
and continue fighting
