maybe we’re just ghosts

”I mean, he’s the sternest of stern individuals who ever did sternly glance my way,” Ronin says of Deimos with a flash of a smile, dumping yet another bucket or three of water out of the Slagveld. ”But he’s always been good with me. Must be a soldier thing.” He winked, grabbing a mop now to clear the worst from the ground floor. He’s a fast worker, is Ronin; laziness no longer runs in his blood the way it used to. Wrinkling his nose at the potential causes of the flooding, Ronin makes a mental note to go up there when the ground floor is ready to dry out. ”Well, we can make sure it’s patched up before we head out,” he says. ”You didn’t have any important shit up there did you? Advocates stuff and whatnot?” Continuing to mop, it doesn’t take long before the boxing ring starts to look like itself again, even if it does desperately need some time to lose the damp look (and smell). Raising a brow as he straightens up, Sunjata’s question for him draws a mix of suspicion and amusement. ”I’m either going to like this or I’m really going to hate it. Go on,” he invites. ronypony it's always nice to make an impression