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

"Oil filters do not count." Remi scolds over his shoulder, though he can't deny that there's a bubble of laughter that seems to fill the back of his throat in a way that reminds him of helium. It's stupid and the mechanic has terrible taste in food and music, but as Remi clicks the bathroom door behind him, he feels a lingering warmth in his chest that suggests despite all of their ups and downs, he might just be the littlest bit smitten by Ronin. At least until the man does something properly idiotic and he goes back to nearly hating him.

Opening the door, once again he finds himself in precisely the position he'd been not fifteen minutes prior. This time though they're both wearing smirks that border on the shit-eating. "You seem like the type to put almost anything in your mouth, at least once." Remi says, as if this somehow is the true measure of Ronin. Raising a challenging brow, the musician's head tilts slightly to the side as one eye narrows. 'Unless you have any allergies I should know about...no. You cannot ask what I am ordering."

ThE RoCkStAr