an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs
a knife for the ribs
"And you chose to do all of this shit," Ronin retorts, trying and failing to keep his own voice level (and he's able to use his a lot more). Speaking of which, though, it's with a petty little roll of his wrist that he gestures to the cup of coffee he's brought the Flood, helpfully nestled on his side of the jail cell where he can get to it. Still choosing the high road even now, Jata, see?
Scoffing, he sets down his own cup and rests his elbows on his knees. "No, see, because I never agreed to keep anyone safe but the people in Stormbreak. Things are different than they were years ago when we were still able to make our own choices, when gods weren't breathing down our necks and war wasn't on our fucking doorstep."
Tilting his head, he spreads his palms now and looks at the other man expectantly. "Yeah? And what does that relic even do, Jata?" he wants to know. Because he doesn't. (Not yet, anyway).
Scoffing, he sets down his own cup and rests his elbows on his knees. "No, see, because I never agreed to keep anyone safe but the people in Stormbreak. Things are different than they were years ago when we were still able to make our own choices, when gods weren't breathing down our necks and war wasn't on our fucking doorstep."
Tilting his head, he spreads his palms now and looks at the other man expectantly. "Yeah? And what does that relic even do, Jata?" he wants to know. Because he doesn't. (Not yet, anyway).
RONIN
