[And show up to that fancy fucking farm he does. It takes him about half an hour to get there, taking a taxi like a responsible boy, but he's made good on his alcohol promise, arriving with a paper bag full of clinking glass bottles clutched to his chest. With the sun set he's safe to venture outdoors, but he's still had the forsight to keep an umbrella tucked under an arm just in case he's out come sunrise.]
[Ronan's in the field when he spots headlights approaching down the long driveway, and by the time Cassidy's out of the taxi, Ronan's there to greet him. It's nice and dark out, save for the dream fireflies glittering about in their lazy way despite the chilly autumn air. Ronan smells like he's had plenty to drink already, yet he's steady on his feet. Possibly, he's too well-practiced.]
[He's grinning a broad greeting, genuinely glad for the company, especially when it's Ronan waiting for him. There's some distraction with his surroundings, eyes drifting to trail after the twinkling bugs around him but the question draws him back.]
Oh, aye, it does in a pinch. So long as I got some cover, I do just fine. Here-- [The fully packed bag gets shoved towards Ronan's chest with a grunt of effort and some noisy clattering of the contents.] -- you're the strappin' young lad of the two of us. Put them bleedin' muscles to work, eh.
[Ronan accepts the burden without protest. The bag's easy enough to carry. He hauls around heavier weight on a regular basis. Turning, he leads the way toward the farmhouse at a leisurely pace.]
Seems kinda risky to me. One strong gust of wind and you're barbecued.
[Ronan nudges the door open with his foot, as it hadn't been fully shut before, and leads the way through the house's twisting nonsense corridors. Despite the hour, sunlight shines in through some of the windows. Ronan carefully avoids those and sticks to the nighttime path.]
[Which is to say he wouldn't want to be outside with just a whole bunch of sunscreen between himself and the sun, thanks. Speaking of, he can't help but notice the warm glow of said sun streaming through several windows down another corridor.]
[If ordinary sunscreen can help even a little, then surely Ronan can create something that'll work much better. He'll have to think on it. For now, his attention's diverted by Cassidy's question. Ronan glances at the window, then back to him.]
[Ronan gives Cassidy a sly smile. Sometimes this vampire reminds Ronan of his father. But in that question, Ronan remembers how different he really is from Niall Lynch.]
"Because I want it to" isn't any less infuriating an answer. I told it to work like that, so it works.
[Ronan stops to open a door, leading the way into the home theater. It's one of the few rooms that have no windows at all, but a lot of very comfortable seating for two drunks.]
[Oh, now this is a room he could get used to, his umbrella cast aside at the door as he goes to throw himself across the seating. He sprawls and stretches as he tries to wriggle in a Cass shaped dip into the cushions, like he's already settling in for the night.]
I'm not even gonna pretend I got a clue what you're goin' on about half the time. You're a strange lad.
Mate, in this world, every feckin' thing is hard to understand. I rather just let shite happen and see where it takes me, makes life a whole lot easier.
[There's not exactly much "decent" in that bag, but there's a selection of whiskey, rum, vodka and brandy (plus perhaps a few others) for choosing. There's one bottle in there that looks like it might be worth something; a thirteen year Irish whiskey, but considering everything else it's alongside, it was probably stolen borrowed from someone else. Cassidy can't afford expensive alcohol with his usual drinking pace.]
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yours or mine?
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i can bring some booze. need a fw pickmeups to??
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Does that really work?
[He nods toward the umbrella.]
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Oh, aye, it does in a pinch. So long as I got some cover, I do just fine. Here-- [The fully packed bag gets shoved towards Ronan's chest with a grunt of effort and some noisy clattering of the contents.] -- you're the strappin' young lad of the two of us. Put them bleedin' muscles to work, eh.
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Seems kinda risky to me. One strong gust of wind and you're barbecued.
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[He trails after, gaze wandering as he hooks his umbrella onto a forearm.]
On the plus side, the barbecue don't last long if it does happen.
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[Ronan nudges the door open with his foot, as it hadn't been fully shut before, and leads the way through the house's twisting nonsense corridors. Despite the hour, sunlight shines in through some of the windows. Ronan carefully avoids those and sticks to the nighttime path.]
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[Which is to say he wouldn't want to be outside with just a whole bunch of sunscreen between himself and the sun, thanks. Speaking of, he can't help but notice the warm glow of said sun streaming through several windows down another corridor.]
How the bloody hell does that work?
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How does anything work, really?
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That's not an answer, lad. Th-that's a fortune cookie quote at best. Go on, get outta here with that bollocks, y'edgy little shite.
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"Because I want it to" isn't any less infuriating an answer. I told it to work like that, so it works.
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[Ronan stops to open a door, leading the way into the home theater. It's one of the few rooms that have no windows at all, but a lot of very comfortable seating for two drunks.]
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I'm not even gonna pretend I got a clue what you're goin' on about half the time. You're a strange lad.
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The simple stuff's harder to understand than the complicated stuff, huh.
[He claims the seat beside Cassidy and sets down the bag to rifle through it for a decent bottle.]
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[There's not exactly much "decent" in that bag, but there's a selection of whiskey, rum, vodka and brandy (plus perhaps a few others) for choosing. There's one bottle in there that looks like it might be worth something; a thirteen year Irish whiskey, but considering everything else it's alongside, it was probably
stolenborrowed from someone else. Cassidy can't afford expensive alcohol with his usual drinking pace.]