RONIN
”A dipping sauce.” Only Ronin could somehow appear so outraged with a mouthful of food (it’s the eyebrows), and he shakes his head at Remi uncomprehendingly, sinking back against the pillows and drawing the Lullaby against his chest. His contentment rolls out of him in soft, starlit waves, and he similarly doesn’t notice Amalia at first. When he finally glances up - and finishes the sandwich he’s been devouring - he offers the Shield a warm smile, letting his fingers slip out of Remi’s as she comes hopping onto the bed as a leopard.
The Star busies himself in fussing over his husband while Amalia and Remi reunite, figuring it best to allow them to have a moment to themselves despite his obvious being there. His projection flickers out, however, giving them a bit more space to navigate the little room. Only when he offers out the wine soaked sandwich does Ronin have anything to say, laughing warmly and rubbing at the scruff on his chin. ”Don’t you get her involved. It might taste marginally okay, but you’ll never make wine sandwiches a thing.”
The Star busies himself in fussing over his husband while Amalia and Remi reunite, figuring it best to allow them to have a moment to themselves despite his obvious being there. His projection flickers out, however, giving them a bit more space to navigate the little room. Only when he offers out the wine soaked sandwich does Ronin have anything to say, laughing warmly and rubbing at the scruff on his chin. ”Don’t you get her involved. It might taste marginally okay, but you’ll never make wine sandwiches a thing.”
one more wish for you
