whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

Ronin wipes at his lips and a lyric about being jealous of the discarded napkin floats through Remi's mind. Without the confidence, alcohol inspires the musician finds his tongue far less sharp than it had been last night. So instead of telling Ronin to fuck off with is truck-stop coffee, he raises it to his lips, sipping at it as if it were a teacup filled with imaginary tea handed to him by a child in a princess dress.

'Good thing.' He agrees with a laugh that's far too amused for the level of humour on offer. Flushing a shade of red he can't blame on the walk over, Remi quickly tucks his feet against the bottom of his side of the bench with an awkward laugh. 'No, I...sorry, restless legs and all that." More like my legs are on fire because I'm out of shape.

"Busy day?" Remi asks, like they aren't complete fucking strangers navigating a sexual chemistry that is at complete odds with how incompatible they seem to be. Raising his eyes to the grease smeared across Ronin's forehead, Remi nods at it, eyebrows raising once. 'You've got...uh, grease, I think. Just there."

ThE RoCkStAr