RONIN
Amalia moved away and Ronin still couldn't look at her face, let alone anywhere else, the hunter straightening up from the counter and fumbling to untie the apron, drawing it up and over his head. He didn't think he would really need it anymore, based on the turn their conversation was taking. "You're right," he muttered. "I still have a lot to learn, and a lot to make up for." Swallowing hard, he circled around the counter as if to put a barrier between himself and the ailing woman, dusting his hands off absently.
"So I'm aware," he mumbled. "I would die again and trade places with Vanya in an instant, if it meant she could give my daughter her mother back." Shrugging, Ronin rubbed at the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I'll go, I... thanks, for teaching me the recipe for those cakes."
"So I'm aware," he mumbled. "I would die again and trade places with Vanya in an instant, if it meant she could give my daughter her mother back." Shrugging, Ronin rubbed at the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I'll go, I... thanks, for teaching me the recipe for those cakes."
