[One thing Ronan is used to is the unexpected. Eyes unseeing, voices carrying magic, a long-dead language being spoken by trees, like it's normal, like it's real life. A long time ago, dreams and reality had started to blur their lines in Ronan's head, creating smudges along the edges of his mind. But it didn't bother him; he just stopped being surprised.
The limos, when they get out of the warehouse, don't bother him either. He doesn't like them - he doesn't like not being able to drive his own car, misses the feeling of a steering wheel under his hands already. But he's not delusional, either. There's nothing unexpected about the cars, and about being pushed into the back of one, lowly growling at his manhandling escort.
Of course the girl is in the same car as him. He grits his teeth as he settles in the car as best he can, the leather creaking under him. It smells like new - like a car dealership and a gross salesman with clammy hands wearing a garish shirt. It smells like it needs to burn, and Ronan takes a deep breath, biting that frayed part on the inside of his cheek, where his teeth keep on going back to.
The girl, funnily enough, smells better than the new car.]
Guess you didn't try very hard, huh?
[It's the same humor as hers; barely there, sharp and angry. A distant image of what it could be. They're pressed against each other, from shoulder to knee, the window on her other side and some guy on his other side. It's making Ronan want to escape inside his own head.]
You gonna play along with their game? [It's a whisper, meant only for her, his head turned towards hers. They're closer than he'd like, but while they are, might as well ask the kind of question he's certain she's not going to want to answer.]
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The limos, when they get out of the warehouse, don't bother him either. He doesn't like them - he doesn't like not being able to drive his own car, misses the feeling of a steering wheel under his hands already. But he's not delusional, either. There's nothing unexpected about the cars, and about being pushed into the back of one, lowly growling at his manhandling escort.
Of course the girl is in the same car as him. He grits his teeth as he settles in the car as best he can, the leather creaking under him. It smells like new - like a car dealership and a gross salesman with clammy hands wearing a garish shirt. It smells like it needs to burn, and Ronan takes a deep breath, biting that frayed part on the inside of his cheek, where his teeth keep on going back to.
The girl, funnily enough, smells better than the new car.]
Guess you didn't try very hard, huh?
[It's the same humor as hers; barely there, sharp and angry. A distant image of what it could be. They're pressed against each other, from shoulder to knee, the window on her other side and some guy on his other side. It's making Ronan want to escape inside his own head.]
You gonna play along with their game? [It's a whisper, meant only for her, his head turned towards hers. They're closer than he'd like, but while they are, might as well ask the kind of question he's certain she's not going to want to answer.]