"Yeah, about like that," Ronin agreed, watching the other man as he dried off and rolled up his sleeves. He arched an eyebrow briefly at the sight of the tattoo; the fine golden constellations on his own wrists itched in reflex. But before he could ask about it, or attempt any other private conversation, a little person wrapped herself about his leg and drew his attention down. Smiling a little, he reached down to tousle her curls, before returning his exhausted gaze to Sunjata. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you. |
turning into something caustic
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