RONIN
Making it up as you go is the flavour of Ronin's whole life since being dropped into Caido, and it's evident from the sound of pleasure that rises in the back of his throat that the whore does a good job of it. She pleads and he complies, with touches that relish every blush and every moan drawn in their wake, and given that he's necked back however much was in the bottle of whiskey, it's no wonder that the world blurs into feeling and colour and the feel of silken locks between his fingers.
If you asked Ronin how long it's been, he'd probably not be able to tell you, honestly. Time passes, and the Star is left tousled and with his shirt buttoned up not entirely correctly, leaning against the bar nursing a very sensible glass of water. Probably. Might be gin - Ronin doesn't know and he doesn't care. He's not even sure how many people might have walked in and out of Mother Molly's to find Safrin's chosen fucking on the counter of a bar. And he doesn't care about that either.
If you asked Ronin how long it's been, he'd probably not be able to tell you, honestly. Time passes, and the Star is left tousled and with his shirt buttoned up not entirely correctly, leaning against the bar nursing a very sensible glass of water. Probably. Might be gin - Ronin doesn't know and he doesn't care. He's not even sure how many people might have walked in and out of Mother Molly's to find Safrin's chosen fucking on the counter of a bar. And he doesn't care about that either.
one more wish for you
