RONIN
"The vines?" Ronin repeats, following her over the roots and raising an eyebrow down at the jungle floor, as if to keep an eye out for any of the creeping little bastards. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out. Might they have anything to do with the marks on your face?" he asks, mainly to make conversation. It is not nearly a suave or charismatic as it otherwise might be in a different time and place - and Ronin catches himself, at least, as if suddenly realising that they might be the result of something much less savoury.
"I'm sorry - you don't have to answer that," he says, peering through the foliage and drawing up beside the river as it comes into view. "Well, you're in a better position than I am to know what they look like. So I'll keep you safe from any wandering vines until we find the herbs you're looking for. How's that sound?"
"I'm sorry - you don't have to answer that," he says, peering through the foliage and drawing up beside the river as it comes into view. "Well, you're in a better position than I am to know what they look like. So I'll keep you safe from any wandering vines until we find the herbs you're looking for. How's that sound?"
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
