long shadows

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "I think you make a fine companion to her," Ronin says with a smug smile, leaning across to kiss Remi's cheek as if he can banish the storminess from his gaze. "If she was here right now, she'd be pulling your hair for overthinking it," he points out, though whether it's a thread that Ronin might do the same is something that they will never get to discover, because Remi is getting up to head back to the bar. It's with a huff of exaggerated sorrow that Ronin turns to watch him go, though he's not ashamed to admit he definitely enjoys the view. Wondering if Remi will eventually master the art of small-talk with the barman if they return often enough, he's nonetheless grinning when the other man returns with their drinks. "Am I meant to eat these?" he wonders of the stones, more than happy with the drink, though he does eye Remi's with suspicion. Before he can offer any advice on how to tackle the ice bubble, though, the Lullaby is asking about a certain jar of dirt, and Ronin's fuuuuuuuuck is enough of an answer, he thinks. "I will send it first thing in the morning," he vows, only to jump a little to feel a hand made cool by ice slip further up his leg. "I think you can do better than that," he murmurs with dark amusement, taking a sip of whiskey and slipping an arm around Remi's waist.