[The gps ping he left for Kavinsky leads to the sort of place you probably wouldn't associate with Ronan Lynch. Which is to say, it's the sort of place that Ronan did his best to keep people from associating with him. A small country road just outside Henrietta, shaded by sleepy trees, leading to a strange little farm with a house and various oddly-shaped barns that dotted the too vibrant hills. Niall's sleeping fairy cows in one of the paddocks, and the gravel driveway where Ronan's BMW and Swan's VW Golf currently sat.
There's a small bonfire and loud music and what is probably the shadow of three boys and too many bottles in a not-too-distant field.
This is Ronan's home. But more than that, it's a dreamer's home. There's no hundred white Mitsubishi's, but Kavinsky of all people can probably pick up on the secrets left in plain sight, tell that this is a little like his dreaming field. By the time he parks his car, Ronan's there with a soft sort of smile, holding a beer bottle out in offer.]
Took you long enough. You drive under the speed limit and everything?
[Which translated for his particular vocabulary, says something like I missed you.]
no subject
There's a small bonfire and loud music and what is probably the shadow of three boys and too many bottles in a not-too-distant field.
This is Ronan's home. But more than that, it's a dreamer's home. There's no hundred white Mitsubishi's, but Kavinsky of all people can probably pick up on the secrets left in plain sight, tell that this is a little like his dreaming field. By the time he parks his car, Ronan's there with a soft sort of smile, holding a beer bottle out in offer.]
Took you long enough. You drive under the speed limit and everything?
[Which translated for his particular vocabulary, says something like I missed you.]