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ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets They were lucky in that, for whatever reason, Ronin awoke absurdly early the following morning. Much earlier than he would expect his lady to rise from sleep to give them a right royal bollocking, anyway. He had slept like the dead, nestled against Remi and the warmth he provided and shuffling about enough to get his head tucked in the crook of the alchemist's neck. It was where he was as he returned to consciousness, and where his hangover dropped a pile of bricks onto his head. He groaned, a muffled and hoarse sound, and turned to roll onto his side and draw the warmth he had seized closer. What Remi might think about being snuggled was utterly not Ronin's concern. And just in case the other man thought he might have been mistaken, Ronin laughed softly and wrinkled his nose. "You are definitely not Vanya," he mumbled, afraid to move or speak too much in case he died of consequences.