there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Sure I did. I wrote it on my knuckles. On both hands, to be safe," Ronin quips back without even having to think about it, only to grumble and slouch back once Remi is on his feet to go and order them some drinks. Whatever the Knight is having will turn out to be some kind of chowder served alongside a grilled cheese, and it was that or a salad, so in his opinion he's chosen the lesser of two evils. Either way, he feels as though what he's ordered in no way pairs with the monstrosities Remi brings back to the table.
"Wh... Oh. Right, okay." Wrinkling his nose a touch and reaching out, he slides the plain, more alcoholic looking drink towards him, leaving the colourful monstrosity for his husband to contend with. Squeezing the lemon into the drink in a gesture that seems almost hopeful, Ronin shoots it back without a thought, only for white scales to shiver out across his neck and shoulders. "It's strong," he wheezes, unsurprisingly. "How's yours?"
"Wh... Oh. Right, okay." Wrinkling his nose a touch and reaching out, he slides the plain, more alcoholic looking drink towards him, leaving the colourful monstrosity for his husband to contend with. Squeezing the lemon into the drink in a gesture that seems almost hopeful, Ronin shoots it back without a thought, only for white scales to shiver out across his neck and shoulders. "It's strong," he wheezes, unsurprisingly. "How's yours?"
RONIN
