ronan | michael
A familiar voice caught his attention. Ronan sneered beneath his mask. Slowly he turned, taking the offered flask.
"Something to knock me on my ass, I hope." Ronan's voice is muffled. A moment later and he took off the raven-esque mask. He tucked it under one arm, while the other held the flask. He takes a nice, long sip. The burn of alcohol bites at the back of his throat, and then it warms his stomach.