RONIN
”I can’t get over how real you sound,” Ronin offers in turn, slipping his hand into Remi’s to let his thumb trace soft circles over the back of his palm, happy to be the recipient of all the touches the Lullaby wants to give him. ”Sugar is out rolling in the snow. I think your fever got a bit much even for her, after a while. She’ll be back soon.” Still, bacon sandwiches and wine have the projection narrowing his eyes at Remi, and as the alchemist lolls back, there’s a similarly scandalised look on the real Ronin’s face.
”For you, anything. You bloody heathen,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the tip of Remi’s nose, while his astral projection dutifully goes to pour wine and make bacon. He laughs at the potential joke - and that in itself tells him how much better he’s feeling - shaking his head in a definitive no. ”Were it anyone else, sure, but it might just be cruel to Amalia,” he says. ”She seemed to need it, too. Shame she’s not your type.” He chuckles.
”For you, anything. You bloody heathen,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the tip of Remi’s nose, while his astral projection dutifully goes to pour wine and make bacon. He laughs at the potential joke - and that in itself tells him how much better he’s feeling - shaking his head in a definitive no. ”Were it anyone else, sure, but it might just be cruel to Amalia,” he says. ”She seemed to need it, too. Shame she’s not your type.” He chuckles.
one more wish for you
