We never painted by the numbers [se]

REMI

Though Remi can sketch well enough, Ronin is the true artist in the family. His strokes are in black, but the blush on the Alchemist's cheeks is quite a vivid pink as he grins and nods his agreement. "Mmhmm. That is absolutely more of what I had in mind." Gods how he loves this man. There is almost no one else, Remi thinks, that could navigate waters like these quite the way Ronin can. A tribute to their dead daughter, sprinkled through with mirth and love, neither of which detract from the seriousness of the task. No, the Alchemist thinks smiling adoringly at Ronin. It is absolutely you, for me.

"No." Remi agrees with a nod, watching the way Ronin's fingers work the scissors, loving him evermore for the care in which he cuts out his ridiculous triangles. With his husband suitably distracted with his shapes, Remi reaches for the leather-bound notebook set apart from the rest of the supplies. Honestly, it might as well have had a glowing exclamation mark over it for how it demanded to be picked up.

"And what's thi—"

Opening the page, the words died in his throat. He'd expect drawings of Vanya, honestly. Or the sea, or...well. Well, not this. Swallowing stupidly, Remi's eyes rise from the pages across to Ronin.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today