Dead men walking

The man before him really was Loren, Ronin realised as the other man moved and spoke and... well, offered near instantly to heal him. Such selflessness could only be the real deal, after all. At once a riot of emotions bombarded the hunter - anger, certainly, for Loren had left without a word. Left him, left Remi (and left him heartbroken at that), left all of them. No sign of him at all, and to just show up again without a word... well. Fuck that, for a start. There was also relief, because of course Ronin was glad that his lost once-friend was alive, but with relief came confusion, frustration, questions - all of which took far more energy than he possessed. "Huh?" he said usefully. "I... no. It won't work, save your strength." Waving away the offer, he let go of the door at last, having been unsure whether or not he would want to slam it in the would-be imposter's face or not. The bottle, as usual, was their saviour, Ronin glancing down as Loren drew his attention towards it. "Yeah, that'll do it," he said, standing aside for the Launceleyn to come in. The room was well lit, mostly by the glass skylight installed by his husband not so long ago, that Ronin might watch his beloved stars without needing to go too far. Said skylight was open, too, so the air was relatively fresh with only a hint of the dry, rotten-earth smell that had been lingering on Ronin's skin for so long now he didn't think he'd ever wash it off, even if he got better. "And where the fuck have you been?" he asked. Tactless, but at least it would get answers. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.