the wounds are open and bleeding out
The sneeze doesn't catch Ronin's attention (not so surprising, given how interested he is suddenly in the fabric of the rope beneath his fingers, of the tinkle of the booze in the bottle that he holds loosely in one hand) but the voice is impossible to ignore. His turn is clumsy at best, the Star's brow furrowing as he tries to concentrate on the two intruders that have come to make fun of his boxing form at a time when he couldn't give less of a fuck about it. Only it's only actually one intruder, and Ronin blinks hard to bring the other man into focus.
"I don't recall askin' for your opinion," he rumbles, his voice made raw by liquor, liquor that he brings once more to his lips. "Why, you wanna go a round an' find out?" It's true that Ronin can barely hold himself steady whilst staying still, but that doesn't mean he's about to pass up an excuse to feel something other than internal pain. A black eye and a busted lip make a good distraction, in his experience.
"I don't recall askin' for your opinion," he rumbles, his voice made raw by liquor, liquor that he brings once more to his lips. "Why, you wanna go a round an' find out?" It's true that Ronin can barely hold himself steady whilst staying still, but that doesn't mean he's about to pass up an excuse to feel something other than internal pain. A black eye and a busted lip make a good distraction, in his experience.
THE
DARK STAR
