the baffled king composing hallelujah
“Yeah, there are a few different ways of making them, apparently.” Ronin flashes a grin across at Maeve as he prepares the pan for frying (and critically, for flipping) pancakes. He raises a hand as if to try to backtrack at her remarks; he’d not intended to judge, it was merely a surprise. “And they will live there again, just as soon as everything is all fixed up. Are you planning to head back once the monsoon season is over?” He assumes yes, but Caido has a way of pulling you in different directions.
Glancing back at her while he waits for the oil to heat up, Ronin can only tilt his head at the tells she gives; they don’t yet know each other well enough for him to make a guess, but then Maeve’s talking once more. “Regardless of what I might or might not have been told, I don’t think it’s polite to act on assumptions,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Glancing back at her while he waits for the oil to heat up, Ronin can only tilt his head at the tells she gives; they don’t yet know each other well enough for him to make a guess, but then Maeve’s talking once more. “Regardless of what I might or might not have been told, I don’t think it’s polite to act on assumptions,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
