lights will guide you home, & ignite your bones
& i will try to fix you
& i will try to fix you
It might be strange that you feel all the more comfortable away from shore, but you do. Should things take a turn for the worst, out here, you imagine it would be easy for Ronin to swoop you up and away from danger (he has once tonight already, sort of). Rolling your eyes at the Star's antics, you edge a little closer, glancing over at the wheel as if it's some vastly complicated device. "So...that's all there is to it?" You ask through skeptically narrowed lashes.
Grumbling and folding your arms over your chest (only to immediately release them, it not helping your balance at all), you shake your head. "I don't know if you know this, but I tend not to sleep with my patients. Especially when they're still sedated and I'm supposed to be monitoring them." You grin. "There, that's another thing you know about me." Expression softening substantially to hear Ronin talk about his husband and his son, you offer him a small smile as you incline your head toward the cabin and the possibility of wwine.
'Who needs to hold on, when you can—" shift. But you don't need to say it, as you've already shrunk down, only four legs which have much more balance than you otherwise would. With your tongue lolling from your mouth, you dart away to the small cabin. It takes only a moment for you to paw open the door (you don't have thumbs that's true, but you've a lot more sense than a normal canine, and so you manage just fine). Without hands though, the best you can do (after knocking a few things off of a shelf), is to grab a dusty bottle between your teeth. Sorry, glasses not included.
Shifting back, crouched by the wheel, you reach up to steady your hand on something. That something just happens to be one of the rungs of the wheel, which you pull sharply toward yourself.
Grumbling and folding your arms over your chest (only to immediately release them, it not helping your balance at all), you shake your head. "I don't know if you know this, but I tend not to sleep with my patients. Especially when they're still sedated and I'm supposed to be monitoring them." You grin. "There, that's another thing you know about me." Expression softening substantially to hear Ronin talk about his husband and his son, you offer him a small smile as you incline your head toward the cabin and the possibility of wwine.
'Who needs to hold on, when you can—" shift. But you don't need to say it, as you've already shrunk down, only four legs which have much more balance than you otherwise would. With your tongue lolling from your mouth, you dart away to the small cabin. It takes only a moment for you to paw open the door (you don't have thumbs that's true, but you've a lot more sense than a normal canine, and so you manage just fine). Without hands though, the best you can do (after knocking a few things off of a shelf), is to grab a dusty bottle between your teeth. Sorry, glasses not included.
Shifting back, crouched by the wheel, you reach up to steady your hand on something. That something just happens to be one of the rungs of the wheel, which you pull sharply toward yourself.
October
