RONIN
Ronin doesn’t know what’s worse: that Remi doesn’t know his obviously-incredibly-accurate middle name, that he doesn’t know what bunting is, that he stole half his sandwich or that he’s just dipped it in wine. His expression is one of perplexed horror as he watches his husband go about his heathen ways, and he takes a very large gulp of his own wine to deal with the uncouth behaviour. ”I’m certainly learning about you right now,” he informs him, Sugar trilling her amusement by the frying pan.
”Bunting,” he explains, ”looks like little triangle flags all connected up with string. You tie them up at festivals as a decoration.” A bit of charcoal has made it into Ronin’s hand, the Star quickly sketching out what it looks like, adding a small and adorable doodle of the two of them holding hands beneath it. ”See?”
Then Remi mentions flower crowns and their daughter and he nearly swallows the last of his sandwich without chewing it at all. ”At least one flower crown,” he agrees, reaching out to tug Remi down beside him, pushing the sketchbook out of the way so they could get started.
”Bunting,” he explains, ”looks like little triangle flags all connected up with string. You tie them up at festivals as a decoration.” A bit of charcoal has made it into Ronin’s hand, the Star quickly sketching out what it looks like, adding a small and adorable doodle of the two of them holding hands beneath it. ”See?”
Then Remi mentions flower crowns and their daughter and he nearly swallows the last of his sandwich without chewing it at all. ”At least one flower crown,” he agrees, reaching out to tug Remi down beside him, pushing the sketchbook out of the way so they could get started.
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
