RONIN
Ronin releases the inside of his cheek only when he begins to taste copper, heaving a sigh and rolling his shoulders, forcing them to relax. Change, he realises, is something he now finds daunting in a way they would have both previously rolled with in wartime. And gods, if that isn't precisely the point. Their peace has been hard-won, and even though they aren't giving it up now, even though they chose to do this together, gods but it feels like it.
Turning, Ronin reaches out to snag an arm around Remi's waist, as if needing him to be the life-raft against the turbulent waves of his emotions. "First step is to rename it, either way," he says, the words murmured against his husband's unruly curls where he has buried his nose. "I'm not setting a foot on board until it's not The Itchy Pussy." Scrunching his nose, he turns only at the sight of a few approaching dock workers.
With them they bring the supplies Ronin had ordered; things to sand and clean and patch, paint and waterproofing, and most importantly liquor to make the process go more smoothly.
Turning, Ronin reaches out to snag an arm around Remi's waist, as if needing him to be the life-raft against the turbulent waves of his emotions. "First step is to rename it, either way," he says, the words murmured against his husband's unruly curls where he has buried his nose. "I'm not setting a foot on board until it's not The Itchy Pussy." Scrunching his nose, he turns only at the sight of a few approaching dock workers.
With them they bring the supplies Ronin had ordered; things to sand and clean and patch, paint and waterproofing, and most importantly liquor to make the process go more smoothly.
one more wish for you
