RONIN
The ladies watch him, and Ronin watches the whiskey in his tumbler. Or he does at first, at least - but by the time it's been filled a bunch of times, well... who fucking knows, honestly? "Interesting that you'd think my mind would go anywhere else in a whorehouse," he remarks, following her gaze down to his crotch and then back up again, the roguish smirk on his face asking if she sees anything she likes.
"Immortal?" he repeats with a snort of laughter, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and turning the tumbler upside down as he sets it back on the bar, to stop it from finding itself refilled. "Who the devil told you that?" He certainly hasn't heard anything like that; it's hilarious to think about, in fact. "That I've been brought back from the dead suggests that I'm far from immortal, don't you reckon?"
"Immortal?" he repeats with a snort of laughter, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and turning the tumbler upside down as he sets it back on the bar, to stop it from finding itself refilled. "Who the devil told you that?" He certainly hasn't heard anything like that; it's hilarious to think about, in fact. "That I've been brought back from the dead suggests that I'm far from immortal, don't you reckon?"
one more wish for you
