and on to the glory at my right hand
Ronin has made a grave error as Flora begins speaking; relaxing as she confirms she's okay, he's grabbed a sip from his glass of water, such that when those three fateful little words leave her lips, he damn near chokes to death. "You love him?" he manages to grate out, surprise written all over his face as he coughs a few times and tries not to drown on land in his daughter's bar. "How long have... wait, what?"
He doesn't laugh, because even with the shock that will likely overtake anything radiating from Flora's mind, he knows that's a massive faux pas with how sincere she sounds. And ultimately, gods, that's the killer for Ronin, his brows drawing together as he watches her across the table. "You... I mean, you know the kind of man he is," he says slowly. "You know he's my age, right?" You know, Flora. Dear old dad who gets called old every conversation?
He doesn't laugh, because even with the shock that will likely overtake anything radiating from Flora's mind, he knows that's a massive faux pas with how sincere she sounds. And ultimately, gods, that's the killer for Ronin, his brows drawing together as he watches her across the table. "You... I mean, you know the kind of man he is," he says slowly. "You know he's my age, right?" You know, Flora. Dear old dad who gets called old every conversation?
ronin
