drifting

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Unaware of the turmoil writhing within the man opposite him, Ronin settled into another of the chairs and shifted Aoife against him so she could cling at his shirt and be a general warm lump in a room already prone to be stifling. Honestly, he had been expecting a bollocking from Rory; he had walked out of the meeting that would have been the making of the two of them, had he not let his emotions cloud his judgement. But then again, the child snug against his shoulder would always bring out the best - and worst - in him. So when Rory started to speak and simply... wanted to know how he was doing...? Well. That confused him, and it showed plain in his face. "Uh," he began helpfully, reaching out for a jug of wine chilled by the feisty ice dragon somewhere up in the rafters. Offering to pour Rory a glass as well as himself, he thought the words over. "I'm... surviving, I guess," he said with a wry smile. "A lot of good things have happened and a lot of bad, too. And it does feel like forever, doesn't it? How are things with you?"