the baffled king composing hallelujah
"Takes to two tango," Ronin mumbles, his fingers soft and free of talons now as he lets them trail in gentle patterns along his husband's shoulders and down his back. "Do you know how to dance?" he wonders suddenly. "I think we should dance more." War is coming, there are children and unexpected wards popping up all over the place, and Ronin wants to dance. So sue him.
Grumbling playfully and shifting only slightly so that he can curl his arm around Remi properly, Ronin gazes down at the alchemist with a smile. "I'm not foolish enough to think that in general is likely. So just about laying here, I think." He says. And he's just gotten comfortable when there's a distinct tap at the window, and when the Huntsman looks, it's only a fucking raven with a note tied to its foot.
"No, fuck off," he complains.
Grumbling playfully and shifting only slightly so that he can curl his arm around Remi properly, Ronin gazes down at the alchemist with a smile. "I'm not foolish enough to think that in general is likely. So just about laying here, I think." He says. And he's just gotten comfortable when there's a distinct tap at the window, and when the Huntsman looks, it's only a fucking raven with a note tied to its foot.
"No, fuck off," he complains.
