RONIN
"Seems like you weren't quite thorough enough. Don't rush on my account," Ronin mumbles with a lopsided smile, taking a swig of whiskey only to almost choke on it as the hand sneaks down the front of his pants. He grinds against the grip on him without being able to stop himself, slamming the bottle down and coughing at the burn that radiates throughout his chest and throat. "Careful with that," he scolds the whore in his lap, making it perfectly obvious as to what they are both up to.
And in this type of establishment, why on earth should Ronin feel uncomfortable or embarrassed? He gazes back to Cian, back to Molly (not that he knows that she's the owner of the establishment, of course), and offers them a grin. "If there's news, you reckon it can wait?"
And in this type of establishment, why on earth should Ronin feel uncomfortable or embarrassed? He gazes back to Cian, back to Molly (not that he knows that she's the owner of the establishment, of course), and offers them a grin. "If there's news, you reckon it can wait?"
one more wish for you
