RONIN
"It is one of my better traits," Ronin agrees, as if being too kind was something the Huntsman was well-known for. And while it's true that the slant of his lips is decidedly wicked (and not at all kind) as Remi calls him out on his naked shenanigans, he doesn't do anything to further provoke the other man's dick ire. Not yet, anyway.
Instead, he lets an arm stretch around his husband's neck, just enough that he might fuss the ragged feathers of one wing. It's impossible to wrangle them into any kind of sleek order - not like when they had been whole - but it's a job he nonetheless enjoys. "In fairness, I am not sure a monster could get to our door any more," he says with a chuckle, peeking through the space between wing and curls to note the building mound of snow against their still open doorway.
"Mm? You think?" he says regarding the table, rocking his hips enough to make the abused legs groan beneath him (and okay, maybe he's being a cocktease, too) before humming his agreement. "I think Mateo's flowers are alright, but the vase might have broken. We might have to dry off the papers, too, if any water got on them." Their mugs are carved out of peppermint bark, luckily, so no risk of broken ceramics.
In his mind Ronin is already carving away at the trunk of a fallen pine, so at the suggestion that they go shopping, his eyebrows shoot up as if Remi has just suggested Safrin come to tea. "Well," he says, trying and failing not to sound too eager, "where would you like to go for it? Torchline would have some lovely driftwood pieces. Halo is closest, and obviously there is some great wood in the Greatwood."
Instead, he lets an arm stretch around his husband's neck, just enough that he might fuss the ragged feathers of one wing. It's impossible to wrangle them into any kind of sleek order - not like when they had been whole - but it's a job he nonetheless enjoys. "In fairness, I am not sure a monster could get to our door any more," he says with a chuckle, peeking through the space between wing and curls to note the building mound of snow against their still open doorway.
"Mm? You think?" he says regarding the table, rocking his hips enough to make the abused legs groan beneath him (and okay, maybe he's being a cocktease, too) before humming his agreement. "I think Mateo's flowers are alright, but the vase might have broken. We might have to dry off the papers, too, if any water got on them." Their mugs are carved out of peppermint bark, luckily, so no risk of broken ceramics.
In his mind Ronin is already carving away at the trunk of a fallen pine, so at the suggestion that they go shopping, his eyebrows shoot up as if Remi has just suggested Safrin come to tea. "Well," he says, trying and failing not to sound too eager, "where would you like to go for it? Torchline would have some lovely driftwood pieces. Halo is closest, and obviously there is some great wood in the Greatwood."
one more wish for you
