RONIN
"Unhelpful? That doesn't sound like you at all." Ronin's smile is sly and knowing, and he reaches forward happily to fuss beneath Remi's wings. The hawk in his lap is just as affectionate as the man, and the Huntsman is not going to waste it even for a moment. Raising his eyebrows to hear that not one feather will be lifted in their pursuit of a kitchen, Ronin doesn't look even for a moment as if he's going to complain about it.
"Well," he says. "Would you at least do me the honour of perching on my shoulder and providing me with good conversation while I set things up? You can choose the colours for the paint as well, I suppose." Grinning, he scritches the top of the hawk's head now, sitting up a bit in his chair.
"Well," he says. "Would you at least do me the honour of perching on my shoulder and providing me with good conversation while I set things up? You can choose the colours for the paint as well, I suppose." Grinning, he scritches the top of the hawk's head now, sitting up a bit in his chair.
a star in someone else's sky
