RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
"You'll get them set for life, when you're a big star and everyone realises you buy from them," he points out, as if Bandcamp here really is a saint for doing such a solid for an independent business without them even realising his generosity. But yeah, that's the end of the storytime with imaginary retailers, because the night is getting on and they're both not getting any younger, and the booze in Ronin's system is telling him to reach up and grab the front of the other man's shirt and pull him into a kiss.
He doesn't, of course, because the next thing he knows they're talking about music again, and the piano at his back, and it ties his tongue in frustrating knots. "Oh - sure," he says, assuming that he has misread the situation and shifting to rise to his feet that his host might take to the bench. "Multitalented, huh. I saw that trumpet on the stovetop too."
He doesn't, of course, because the next thing he knows they're talking about music again, and the piano at his back, and it ties his tongue in frustrating knots. "Oh - sure," he says, assuming that he has misread the situation and shifting to rise to his feet that his host might take to the bench. "Multitalented, huh. I saw that trumpet on the stovetop too."
show me your darkness.
