you've long seen your downfall, spelled out in another's bones
It's not at all usual for Ronin to be at the House of Midnight, and especially without his husband in tow. It feels weird, like he's trespassing, or like he's walking in the shoes of the man he'd been when he was younger, and they no longer fit as they did. Regardless, he's here for the brothel's proprietor rather than any of its offerings, and though he does see Sunjata's name in looping script on a board as he ducks inside, when he asks the person on the door if he can be reached, it's absolutely not with that in mind.
As they send someone scurrying off to try and locate the Flood, Ronin is directed to the half-familiar bar, and he settles himself on one of the stools to wait. The whiskey he orders is smoky and reminds him vaguely of Halo, its bite welcome as he swirls it into the ice in the glass. The Knight seems tired, as he usually does these days, but with the sort of bone-deep weariness born of grief and internal conflict rather than anything physically taxing.
As they send someone scurrying off to try and locate the Flood, Ronin is directed to the half-familiar bar, and he settles himself on one of the stools to wait. The whiskey he orders is smoky and reminds him vaguely of Halo, its bite welcome as he swirls it into the ice in the glass. The Knight seems tired, as he usually does these days, but with the sort of bone-deep weariness born of grief and internal conflict rather than anything physically taxing.
RONIN
