we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
"You heard." Ronin waggles his eyebrows at Sunjata as if to dare him to repeat it again, but then of course he's totally failing to throw a dart and it's the Flood's turn. Ronin folds his arms across his chest, expecting to be completely shown up - and he is, sort of, but not in the way he remotely expects. He snorts, unable to help himself as well, slinking up to sling an arm around Sunjata and point at where the dart is embedded into the wall. "Gentle," he hisses to his friend, shooing him away so he can try again with another dart.
"Maybe we need more booze. Isn't there supposed to be a sweet spot where you're really good at shit for a while?" Have they already drunk enough to be well beyond that sweet spot? Maybe. Probably. Either way, here Ronin goes. He tries for just right, and the result is something of a mixed bag too. He hits the dartboart and it doesn't go through the wall, but he only really grazes the outer rings. "I did it!"
"Maybe we need more booze. Isn't there supposed to be a sweet spot where you're really good at shit for a while?" Have they already drunk enough to be well beyond that sweet spot? Maybe. Probably. Either way, here Ronin goes. He tries for just right, and the result is something of a mixed bag too. He hits the dartboart and it doesn't go through the wall, but he only really grazes the outer rings. "I did it!"
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
