RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
They keep snapping from the vaguely sweet to the what the fuck, and by the time Ronin has shrugged into his jacket (is it weird to be glad that it's been warmed up by the dog that's been using it as a pillow?) "Well if I knew what was happening, I'd sure as hell give you clarity about it," he says testily, as if Remi could just as easily decide for himself what he wanted and take it or leave it from there.
"Maybe your charm has been rubbing off on me, what can I say?" he grumbles. And yet, he's still left the invite open, still offered a little piece of himself out there, only for super dramatic Italian to come out instead. Ronin wants to just stand there, all WOT in the face of something he so obviously won't understand, but by then his own temper is flaring (it's not, it's embarrassment) into pink spots high in his cheeks.
"Go breá, ná déan," he snaps instead, heading straight for the door and straight out of it.
In Remi's clothes.
Leaving his own clothes there.
Fucking fuck.
"Maybe your charm has been rubbing off on me, what can I say?" he grumbles. And yet, he's still left the invite open, still offered a little piece of himself out there, only for super dramatic Italian to come out instead. Ronin wants to just stand there, all WOT in the face of something he so obviously won't understand, but by then his own temper is flaring (it's not, it's embarrassment) into pink spots high in his cheeks.
"Go breá, ná déan," he snaps instead, heading straight for the door and straight out of it.
In Remi's clothes.
Leaving his own clothes there.
Fucking fuck.
show me your darkness.
