the things we hold are always the first to go
”You really can’t see a thing out there, huh. You’d not even know we had neighbours, right now.” Ronin is bonelessly comfortable against the warmth of his husband’s chest, though his blue eyes are interested as he tries to pick out shapes against the wall of constant rain. Grinning and cringing away at the ticklish sensation against his ear, he tilts his head up to look at Remi with a raised eyebrow.
”I can hear the cogs turning in your head,” he remarks. ”Be careful with your plans, yeah? You’re more of a target now than you were - best not draw the Voice’s attention where you don’t need it.” Not that his husband can’t handle himself - Ronin knows that all too well. But he can’t stop from worrying, and nor does he try to. ”I’d hate to be outside in this.”
”I can hear the cogs turning in your head,” he remarks. ”Be careful with your plans, yeah? You’re more of a target now than you were - best not draw the Voice’s attention where you don’t need it.” Not that his husband can’t handle himself - Ronin knows that all too well. But he can’t stop from worrying, and nor does he try to. ”I’d hate to be outside in this.”
