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Sweeping around the borders of the shop floor now, Ronin leaves it to his projection to also cock his head to listen, all the while approaching the alchemist to offer himself some cheese rolled up in some ham (it's the best breakfast in his opinion). "You're right," the real Ronin says with a faint smile, sweeping the remainder of the dust out of the shop and sweeping the doorstep as well for good measure. "That's the Pacifist Plaza for you, I suppose." And the strangest part? Ronin could really get used to it.

Stepping back in and leaving the door open that the space might air out, Ronin props the brush beside it and moves to examine the counter properly, searching through drawers that are mostly empty but for a few spiders. "Good marketing? We may as well paint a big skull on these windows and start there," he says with a chuckle, accepting some food from his projection as well before dismissing it for the time being.

At first he's watching Remi rather than the room around them; Ronin is entranced by all these little details that he feels he's never had time to enjoy before. The dust he wants to brush from his husband's shoulder; the way his curls have gotten too long and threaten to fall into his eyes; the expression on his face that makes him look like the man he'd first met on the beach.

Only when he turns - and Ronin is already thinking of the various oddities that Remi might bring from the places they've visited - does he realise the extent of the shop's illusionary tranformation, and the Star's jaw softly drops. Ronin is visibly entranced by the tree and its natural shelves, by the skulls and plants and other specimens. Even the Ianto beneath the bench is enough to round his cheeks with the force of his smile, and he gazes back at Remi with clear wonder in his eyes.

"This," he says, barely above a whisper, "is absolutely incredible. What will you call the place?"

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'Why not?' Remi wonders. Ronin will shortly see for himself why painting a large skull on the window wouldn't be as bad of an idea as he's currently implying it would.

Biting the inside of his cheek and looking thoroughly and boyishly uncomfortable with Ronin's awe, Remi swallows and shrugs trying to appear as casual about the whole thing as possible. 'I don't know...the last time I named something I think I just called it R&R's wagon.' As with his previous naming of alcohols (#7, #100), Remi's creativity seemed abruptly stifled when it came to utilizing words.

"Everything I seem to come up with is...a mouthful." Ronin was somehow both the most talkative but also the pithiest of the pair.

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"But also why?" Ronin wonders right back, with a grin flashed in Remi's direction for good measure. Munching on cold cuts and cheese and meandering around the shop as if it's all real, as if he can smell the flowers and ink and tea, as if he can hear wind chimes and other things rustling in the branches of the tree, he considers Remi's struggles with the name. "I'd just call it The Alchemist," he says softly, turning to glance back at his husband.

It's the man Remi used to be, the man he wants to rediscover in some part. And besides, the place isn't quite an apothecary, isn't quite an artisan's craft shop. It's a lot of somethings, and things that might become other things. Alchemy.

"If you'd prefer something more flowery though, I can certainly think on it." Letting out a sigh, he turns to head back to the counter and nods his approval. "Looks even better from here," he says.

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Popping his own meaty-cheese snack in his mouth, Remi twitches his lips from side to side. 'The Alchemist?' He repeats, trying it on for size But Ronin, that bar in Cardiff will sue us. Swallowing—gods that was good cheese, Remi had to admit—he still looks around with a bit of a frown, before lowering his gaze to his hands. "Am I even that, anymore? As far as marketing goes, anyway." He mumbles this last bit with a humourless laugh, feeling a strange sort of imposter syndrome sinking down heavily upon him.

Watching as Ronin turns, Remi can't help but chuckle slightly as he follows his husband. "That's because you're looking at the food." But with less dust than there had been when they'd started, and with the mustiness already airing itself out rather well, Remi too thinks it all looks better as well. "What about you? Can you see yourself coming down those stairs in the morning? Opening that door and heading off for the day, with a cup of tea you're bound to spill on the way?"

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But Remi, they'll never know! "Mm, I think you are. Just in a different way," he reasons, grabbing another meat-and-cheese rollup to chew on while they talk, while he leans against the counter and imagines it covered in various unfinished projects and a large, old cash register to keep requests and receipts. As he all but feels Remi's discomfort, Ronin has to resist the urge to wind his arms around his husband, to draw him against his chest and hold him until the uncertainty settles into something warm and true.

"What about... the Mortar and Pestle? Or Good Chemistry?" He waggles his eyebrows at Remi, reaching again for the wine to take a more measured sip, holding it out for the Lullaby as he imagines himself rushing down the spiral staircase, armed with a slice of toast and jam and a cup of hot tea, half shrugged into his coat.

Even the thought of it makes him chuckle. "No," he admits, but not for the reasons that Remi might think. "What I mean is yes, but there's a lot more butt-grabbing and inappropriate jokes from you as I go."

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'You sound like my lawyer trying to get me out of a copyright argument." Remi chuckles back, though his uncertainty is still there. "Its been..years since I've been able to properly sit down and create the way I once did. I suppose I just feel like I haven't earned that name back yet."

Reaching for a hunk of cheese and not bothering at all with cutting off an appropriate amount, Remi pops it into his mouth. "Mortal and Pestle?" He snorts. "You mean the things I'm meant to use to grind up things, rather than my hands?" Ever the uncultured brute, preferring to use his hands rather than tools whenever possible, Remi just waggles his fingers at his husband as he reaches for more cheese.

Remi's frown is tentative, but it smoothes itself out as Ronin clarifies. "Ahh." He hums, blushing and looking down. 'How are we...that is, when are we..." The words stall as Remi tries to clumsily draw a circle around what it is they've been avoiding. "It can't be like this forever, and I know it won't be, I just...don't know how to tell if we're being idiots about sex. Because right now.." He bites the inside of his cheek, pale eyes rising up Ronin's fingertips to his arm, shoulder, the curve of his jaw and finally eyes he knows better than any others. "..holding your hand is nearly enough to send me to me knees. I'm not sure I can take things slow and touch anything more than your fingertips."

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"Are you sure? I would be a terrible lawyer," Ronin says with a scoff, though he understand what his husband means, even more so as he continues to explain. "Well, that's half the fun, isn't it?" He tilts his head. "There's no pressure to be or to do anything, whilst you're here. This is all you, Remi. Sooner you start making something with your hands again, sooner you can earn that name back, if you want it." His charming wink is ruined by the way he's shoving a cold cut of ham into his mouth.

He nods brightly at the Lullaby's explanation, resisting the urge to nudge at Remi as if to tell him that they're exactly on the same page. "See," he says around a mouthful of ham, "it can be ironic, or something." Either way, it doesn't really matter what it's called - it's all theirs. And this part in particular is all Remi's.

Swallowing and feeling glad that he has lest he choke when the other man finally broaches the subject they've been dancing around, Ronin also drops his gaze and lets out a breathy laugh. "Yeah," he agrees, his finger gliding along the grain of wood in the countertop. "I've been enjoying it, a bit. Dancing around each other, taking it slow. It feels how it used to, right at the beginning."

But Remi's correct, and Ronin glances up again only to reach out, his hand halting somewhere between brushing a curl out of the Lullaby's face. "We'll have to touch again a little more soon," he says, "because you badly need a haircut."

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"Well I didn't say it was a good argument." The alchemist points out with lopsided smile. 'Oh is that half the fun?' Tugging in a breath and casting his eyes up towards the ceiling (where several cobwebs still remain, not that he minds), Remi shrugs a touch roughly. "I'm not sure I even remember what it feels like for there not to be any pressure, so I'll have to take your word for it." He still had a Greatwood to defend and fortify, after all. A Mathair to find and restore.

But all that seems so easy compared with the task they'd set out for each other. Have a sex healthy life. How hard could that be? Don't use sex as a bandaid...wouldn't it always be, when the pair of them were so consistently broken?

"I have, too." Remi admits shyly, his teeth finding his lower lip as his eyes seek out the Star's. It's quickly released, his lip that is, so that they might part ever so slightly with the smallest of gasps as Ronin oh so nearly touches him. His broad shoulders shiver despite the warm and sweet air that dances in from the street. But then, predictably, Ronin ralphagorns the moment, leaving Remi swatting the Star's hand away with a disgruntled huff. "I was going to grow it out. Wear it in a little knot on the top of my head. I hear that's very in fashion. Who knows? Maybe Stormbreak Remi the Alchemist is now also VeRy FAshIonAblE."

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"Remi!" Ronin huffs out an exasperated laugh, and though there's amusement in his eyes, he does try again at this whole 'being truthful' thing. "Sometimes it feels as though you just want to wallow and for things to always be difficult. You can just roll with it sometimes, you know. Just... brew your favourite wine again, or build one of those mobiles that Vai taught you how to make," he suggests, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess what I'm really trying to say is that it's really hard, sometimes, to keep being the positive bubble trying to lift the mood. Especially when it doesn't feel like it's going anywhere but down." He rubs at the back of his head, almost apologetic for the interjection, but knowing that it's another example of them becoming healthier.

Which... you know. Back to the sex stuff. Ronin can't help but titter as his hand is swatted away, and he desperately wants to reach out and mess up the already messy curls - but he doesn't. "Very fashionable? You? Remi, I love you. I will always love you. But I will believe it when I see it."

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Raising his eyebrows a touch and finding his first instinct is to argue, the alchemist instead swallows down his defensiveness that he might hear the truth in his husband's words. "I want to say it's just balancing out how flippant about things you can be, but...It is just easier, to wallow." The realization isn't one that immediately makes him feel lighter for having pinpointed it. It's a dark thing, and despite having it cast in the light, Remi feels himself wanting to curl protectively around it. "Maybe we'll call this place The Baron Wallows, as a reminder of what not to be." He says with an airy laugh, before his smile slips away and he nods. "I can work on it."

But the pendulum swings the other way, and instead of looking broody, Remi is now aiming for haughty. He fails of course, the alchemist having no idea how to contour his lips and eyebrows to appropriately smoulder as his husband does. "Well, you just..." His brows raise as he postures, ready to mic drop with some incredibly witty quip...

..but nothing comes. Deflated, Remi exhales and smirks. "Is it that bad?" He wonders, pushing back his curls from his forehead. "Are you offering, then?"

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Ronin is braced for the argument, in truth, and he's pleasantly surprised when it doesn't come. Contrite at having brought up a criticism - it's still a very uncomfortable thing to do, even though they have promised each other that this is the new normal - he offers his husband a smile that's almost shy in its warmth. "I can be flippant, it's true," he says with a nod. "I'll work on that too. We'll find a balance, between us, I think." Or at the very least, they'll talk about it.

And that's just as good, these days.

"The Baron Wallows, or The Lullaby's Smile," he shoots back, though as Remi tries to smoulder at him, Ronin looks a mix of confused and concerned, as if wondering if his husband is about to dribble or throw up. "Is what that bad? Your fashion sense? Absolutely not - I'm just playing with you. I love how you look, and I'd find it weird if you started dressing up. Your hair, though? I could give you a haircut, I think. And a shave."

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Well, if Remi ever needed reminding that his attractiveness was entirely incidental, here it was. Relaxing his face into a more natural expression, considers his husband's name suggestions before deciding that it didn't need to be decided now.

"Well I shall try my best to walk the line between too feral and too dressed up." Remi says with a roll of his eyes, snagging another wedge of cheese and dressing up a ball of meat with it. "A shave?" Running his fingers through a beard which is now an inch or so long, the alchemist frowns. Its been about as long since Remi has had a normal hair-regiment as he's been wallowing in his feelings. "Fine, fine. But first, lets go and gather the things I picked up. Perhaps we'll come across some mighty luxere on the way who will help pull the wagon back."

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"You don't need to try - you're perfect, even if you do need a shave," Ronin notes with a smile that suggests he knows exactly how thick he's laying on the compliments. Nonetheless, he follows suit and dressed a wedge of cheese up in some meat, popping it into his mouth and then very geneously giving the last of it to Remi. "Mm? Oh, I see how it is. Won't get the boxes delivered, but expects help going to fetch them. When am I supposed to go upstairs to make that apartment into a cutesy home, huh?"

Continuing to grumble, very affectionately Ronin might add, the Star grabs up the keys and heads to the door, waiting for Remi to join him so they can go and collect everything that he's arranged. "There might very well be a mighty luxere available, but I'm afraid the season of majesty has ended." As if to demonstrate, Ronin partially shifts his antlers, or the absence thereof. It's just two bloody, painful looking divots along his hairline. "They dropped just after I got back to Torchline. At least I know what to expect this time."

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'Excuse me, I thought we were going for honesty." Remi chuckles back in response to his husband's use of the word perfect. Compliments aside, it's the offering of the final bit of food that the alchemist really appreciates, and he manages to look sweetly adoring as he scarfs down the last of Cian's gift basket.

"With what, dear husband, will you make it cutesy with?" Remi wants to know, before holding up his hands. "But I suppose if you're already sick of me, or afraid of doing a bit of work yourself, I can always go alone..?"

The jangle of the keys grabs Remi's attention, momentarily confused by the sound of them. It's a luxury for him to not only have a home, but to have a home that locks. Even though it's absent of anything worth taking right now, it warms something never before touched in the alchemist to think that one day this might be a space worth protecting for its own sake.

"Aww. Well I hope you found them. They'd probably look good hanging on Sunjata's wall. He could put a mirror below and pretend to be you." Remi says with a laugh, resisting the urge to rub at his husband's nubs.

Holding his hand out for Ronin's and still feeling that strange but welcome thrill despite how simple the gesture is, Remi nearly forgets to wait for the Star to actually lock the door before tugging him down the streets. "I suppose you won't know really yet, but do you...I mean, does fire fall from you, when you fly?" He asks, because he's already thinking of lifting off and taking flight instead of just ambling along as they are.

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