a blank piece of paper

i'm not the man they think i am at home

It was quite a mess they (read: Remi) had made of things lately. And yet here, bobbing in their houseboat with blood and ink staining their table and whiskey colouring their tea, Remi couldn't have been more content. So what if he had to strong-arm Wessex or Nate into giving him fluid. So what if Isla hated him and all of his friendships had more or less fallen apart because he couldn't be bothered to maintain them?

With Ronin's arm around his waist and that familiar twinkle in the Huntsman's eyes, Remi hadn't a care in the world that his husband's smile couldn't fix. "Alright. Well I would say that is enough note-writing today." Leaning over to press an inky-kiss against Ronin's cheek, Remi pulls back grinning. "Care to come to bed and see what else my fingers can or can't do?"

~FIN