the things we hold are always the first to go
Flashing a charming smile at the barmaid that appreciates her presence as much as it asks her to get him a drink, Ronin settles in his seat. He can only see Cian's profile, really, at the piano, but he can watch his fingers dance over the keys. He can spot the lipstick on his collar, the smoke curling from the cigarette balanced atop the instrument. "Usually both as well," he responds to the question, curiously understanding of it. "But that's not why I'm here today."
Ruffling a hand through his dark mop of hair, Ronin tilts his head back to gaze up at the beams criss-crossing overhead. "Part of me thought you'd already know, but on the off-chance, I'd feel a bit of a dick if I didn't tell you," he murmurs. "The Ascended want to prevent Order members from crossing into the Hollowed Ground. To do that, an Ascended needs to witness a member of the Order using their compass, whatever that entails."
Ruffling a hand through his dark mop of hair, Ronin tilts his head back to gaze up at the beams criss-crossing overhead. "Part of me thought you'd already know, but on the off-chance, I'd feel a bit of a dick if I didn't tell you," he murmurs. "The Ascended want to prevent Order members from crossing into the Hollowed Ground. To do that, an Ascended needs to witness a member of the Order using their compass, whatever that entails."
