Dead men walking

When Ronin responded with something more than a simple 'oh', Loren felt his heart start beating again. Or at least, that’s what it felt like: time had stood still as the librarian waited for the judgment, the shouting, the anger, everything he deserved and more. But now that the moment had actually come there was none of that. And it left the summoner completely off balance, even more than he’d already been. He was so distracted by the lack of a hurt response that the Launceleyn responded without thinking. “What do you mean, it won’t work?” Then his mind caught up to his mouth and he couldn’t believe the casual way he’d replied. Surely he had to do more than that. He couldn't just waltz in here and act as if nothing had changed, offer of healing and wine notwithstanding. Or maybe he could. Loren blinked as the other man let go of the door, not sure what that meant. Then he was given an answer of sorts as Ronin eyed the bottle, apparently came to a decision, and invited Loren inside; for his part, the librarian stepped into the quarters as quickly as he dared, almost as if he was worried the other man would rescind the invitation if the summoner waited too long. Sparing a glance for the room, Loren noted that it was well furnished, beautiful in its own way. There was, however, an odd odor in the air, despite the fact that the skylight was open, letting in a fresh breeze. Obviously Loren wasn’t going to be commenting on it. The sight of the room and the surprise of being allowed inside had taken the librarian’s attention off the situation at hand for a crucial moment, for it was at that exact instant that Ronin asked the question that had surely been on the king’s mind. So much for niceties, but the Launceleyn hadn’t exactly earned that. It was probably for the best that they were getting this out of the way, but it didn't really feel that way to Loren. Barely, he kept the panic at bay. He’d known this question was coming—prepared for it, even—and yet it still managed to catch him off guard. Loren closed his eyes, and gripped the bottle tightly again, mentally steeling himself against Ronin’s response to the librarian's crappy excuse. But eventually the Launceleyn opened them, and met Ronin’s gaze; after everything that the librarian had put the king through the summoner owed the other man that much. After all, what else were old friends for? Loren didn’t know. He’d never had an old friend before, and he wasn’t sure had one now. Hesitantly, in a broken voice, he tried voice what could not be spoken, explain something he didn’t really understand himself (or at least didn't want to admit). “I wish I had...a, a better answer for you. I really do.” Here he bit his lip, trying to keep from breaking down. He’d been doing that far too often since he came back. “I was in the Hollowed Grounds," he admitted in a halting manner. Physically at least: but Loren wasn’t really sure he could say the rest of him was there. He took a deep breath, knowing that Ronin would probably not like to hear that the Launceleyn had been there the whole time. “But…do you remember how I used to get? How I would...retreat? Lose myself?” The words came out choked, and the Launceleyn knew he was botching this. But he was doing the best he could. Still, he had to try harder to make the other man understand, if only so that the librarian could understand it for himself. “I couldn’t deal with...it doesn’t matter. But I couldn’t cope." He took one last deep breath, and let it out. "So I shut myself down.” The statement echoed in the air between them, and Loren looked away. He didn’t want to know what Ronin thought of the Launceleyn's weakness and shameful behavior. LOREN Not quite an open book