we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
The shower feels good in a way that makes Ronin almost guilty about it, and Sunjata will have plenty of time to clean himself up (and clean up after the Star, sorry) while he's away. And when he does return, it's in a cloud of steam with skin lightly pink from the heat of the water. The scars shine out on Ronin's skin, his damp, dark hair plastered to his forehead, and whilst his body has benefitted greatly from the time under the hot water, his mental edges are still very frayed.
He doesn't even expect Sunjata to still be there, let alone nursing his split lip and sitting with drinks at the ready, and Ronin grumbles a note of appreciation and irritation both. "Sorry." It's a muttered and raspy apology, the Star slouching onto the couch again and pouring them both a drink. "I don't want to talk about it any more, if it's all the same to you."
He doesn't even expect Sunjata to still be there, let alone nursing his split lip and sitting with drinks at the ready, and Ronin grumbles a note of appreciation and irritation both. "Sorry." It's a muttered and raspy apology, the Star slouching onto the couch again and pouring them both a drink. "I don't want to talk about it any more, if it's all the same to you."
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
