turning into something caustic

"Yeah, about like that," Ronin agreed, watching the other man as he dried off and rolled up his sleeves. He arched an eyebrow briefly at the sight of the tattoo; the fine golden constellations on his own wrists itched in reflex. But before he could ask about it, or attempt any other private conversation, a little person wrapped herself about his leg and drew his attention down. Smiling a little, he reached down to tousle her curls, before returning his exhausted gaze to Sunjata. "This is Seren," he introduced, having to take long, deep breath before the next part. "She is my daughter. Safrin is her mother." Yes, and let him take from that what he wished. "Seren, this is my friend Sunjata I told you about. We should say thank you to him for letting us use this place for the night, don't you think?" RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.