RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
"Suit yourself," Ronin murmurs, his eyebrows playfully bouncing up in a gesture that approximates damn, tough crowd, before he raises a hand to ask one of the waitresses to come and remove the cheese masterpiece from in front of the esteemed musician. Wouldn't want to offend his delicate sensibilities. She sweeps straight over, moving to box up the sandwich to-go, and Ronin waves a hand at the other cup of coffee.
"You drink already, too?" he teases, putting down the sandwich to wipe his hands and mouth on a napkin, before settling back with his own coffee. "Oh I see," he says. "Good thing, really - how am I supposed to look for it with you if you've found it already?"
Ronin can feel the awkwardness drape itself over them like a wet blanket. Invite a man for food and he's already eaten, and now they get to walk through drizzle to look for a jacket that, by the time he puts it on, he'll be soaking wet. Then a foot nudges against his beneath the table, and he smirks into his coffee. "That's sweet," he jokes, "but in these boots I couldn't play footsie even if I wanted to."
"You drink already, too?" he teases, putting down the sandwich to wipe his hands and mouth on a napkin, before settling back with his own coffee. "Oh I see," he says. "Good thing, really - how am I supposed to look for it with you if you've found it already?"
Ronin can feel the awkwardness drape itself over them like a wet blanket. Invite a man for food and he's already eaten, and now they get to walk through drizzle to look for a jacket that, by the time he puts it on, he'll be soaking wet. Then a foot nudges against his beneath the table, and he smirks into his coffee. "That's sweet," he jokes, "but in these boots I couldn't play footsie even if I wanted to."
show me your darkness.
