there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"I'll do what I damned well please on my own doorstep-- oh, hi Amalia." Ronin's outburst comes as his foot is within another gourd, the Star shaking the gooey remnants off his boot and kicking another away from the Mortar and Pestle, not nearly as gentle as the Angel who approaches. And he raises his eyebrows at her, as if wondering who this woman is compared to the baker who would once gleefully put the pumpkins into a pie. "What they want," he says slowly, "is to come into my shop and bite my son. And as you can imagine, they aren't going to get what they want."
Still, he wordlessly holds out the broom for her. "If it means so much to you, you can sweep them away. Quite where you're going to sweep them is beyond me, though - they're everywhere, and already making a mess. OI!" That's to another bloodthirsty gourd, Ronin kicking it off his stoop. "How've you been anyways?"
Still, he wordlessly holds out the broom for her. "If it means so much to you, you can sweep them away. Quite where you're going to sweep them is beyond me, though - they're everywhere, and already making a mess. OI!" That's to another bloodthirsty gourd, Ronin kicking it off his stoop. "How've you been anyways?"
RONIN
