Finished with his work for half a moment, Robin grabs a glass from under the bar to fill it with a more than generous pour of liquor. He sets it in front of Ishiah, before leaning as well as he can over the broad, dark wood of the bar and pressing a humid kiss to the pale skin below Ishiah's ear, along the tight, smooth skin of a very old scar.
"But that's true enough. I had given up on the idea of any face that I recognized. It seemed too improbable. An infinite of infinities and only one of them is the one that I fit into? I would sooner believe in fucking Santa Claus." He gives a wry snort, looking between Ishiah and the large cat. "But here you are. So maybe I have been a good boy this year. Pity it means we get to suffer together."
Though, complain as he might, Robin is doing typically well for himself, sober and inserted into the local economy, living eternal life on his normal day-to-day basis. But there is a subdued quality to all of it, which certainly proves Ishiah's point.
no subject
Finished with his work for half a moment, Robin grabs a glass from under the bar to fill it with a more than generous pour of liquor. He sets it in front of Ishiah, before leaning as well as he can over the broad, dark wood of the bar and pressing a humid kiss to the pale skin below Ishiah's ear, along the tight, smooth skin of a very old scar.
"But that's true enough. I had given up on the idea of any face that I recognized. It seemed too improbable. An infinite of infinities and only one of them is the one that I fit into? I would sooner believe in fucking Santa Claus." He gives a wry snort, looking between Ishiah and the large cat. "But here you are. So maybe I have been a good boy this year. Pity it means we get to suffer together."
Though, complain as he might, Robin is doing typically well for himself, sober and inserted into the local economy, living eternal life on his normal day-to-day basis. But there is a subdued quality to all of it, which certainly proves Ishiah's point.