Ronan's lips curve into a scowl, the bruise across the bridge of his nose throbbing at the reminder.
"What the fuck is there to talk about?" he asks. The rope twists itself into a figure eight and stretches taught and Ronan runs his fingers over the knot. "It's done. I can't take it back and neither can he."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-10-12 04:09 am (UTC)"What the fuck is there to talk about?" he asks. The rope twists itself into a figure eight and stretches taught and Ronan runs his fingers over the knot. "It's done. I can't take it back and neither can he."